Page 16 of Death of the Glass Angel (Apotheosis #1)

Janus

Eight years ago. . .

“Do you play?” Eros asked, thumbing through a deck of cards.

“You’ll have to be more specific,” Gemellus responded as he flipped the chalkboard over and cleared the previous day’s writing.

“Specific?” Eros dropped the deck onto the desk. “Is there more than one kind of card game?”

Gemellus laughed as he picked up a piece of chalk. “There are five separate kinds in Clodia alone, Eros.”

Flummoxed, Eros spread his cards out, nose wrinkled. Janus chuckled and flipped open her notebook.

The other students funneled into the classroom, chattering in small groups. Janus had yet to make any friends. Or acquaintances, really. Eros followed her everywhere, regardless, so she never wanted for company.

Technically, her brother was too young to attend Valeria, but Father allowed him to begin early. The kid would be a mage regardless, even if his human half did not inherit the evoking talent.

“Gem.” Eros looked up, annoying innocence blooming in his bright pink eyes. “Could you teach me to gamble?”

“Do I strike you as a gambler?”

“Yes.” Eros tilted his head. “You dress like one.”

Gemellus paused writing to run a hand down his vest. Janus caught a hint of a rumpled frown on her mentor’s face. “Silence is a virtue, Eros. Especially during lessons.”

Eros nodded solemnly, arranging the cards in the pattern of a flower.

Something flashed behind Janus, and she swiveled in her seat. Two boys at the back of the room were practicing evoking—one had conjured a puddle of mud in the walkway between desks. The walkways Gemellus always paced during his lectures.

Sinking into her chair, Janus’s eyes darted around. This wouldn’t end well.

Without looking up from the chalkboard, Gemellus flicked his wrist, fingers alighting silver. A pair of handcuffs slammed down on the boy’s wrists and dragged him forward. He lost his balance and tumbled into his own mud puddle.

The filth vanished after covering the boy’s robes and face in mud.

“Thank you for the valuable lesson, Adrescu,” Gemellus said. “When an evoker loses concentration, his spell disappears. But if the memory interacts with the living world, the effects remain.”

Everyone hushed, staring at the unfortunate student as he rose to his feet. Snickering followed, abruptly silencing when Gemellus again flicked his wrist, removing the kid’s shackles.

“Take your seats,” Gemellus ordered.

Eros glanced at Janus with something between awe and abject terror. Knowing a blind man could sense your actions even from across the room. . .

“Today.” Gemellus began as he drew several bending lines on the board. “We’ll be learning about mirages.”

Janus sat forward, leaning on her elbows. This sounded interesting.

“In truth, there’s nothing magical about them. Merely a trick of the light.” Gemellus explained as he finished drawing his diagram.

As Janus carefully copied the diagram and Gemellus’ explanations into her journal, she caught Eros paying more attention to the chalkboard than his cards. Eros, focused? A rare sighting.

He never listened to his sister.

“Janus,” Gemellus called her name. “Can you tell us who Mother Taniyn is?”

“Yes,” Janus answered, tapping her quill on her desk. “She’s the mother dragon of the cefran tribe who live in the Argiris desert.”

“Do you know her story?”

“Not really.”

“Mother Taniyn was born when a lake appeared in the desert. The Argiris saw a great, winged dragon burst from the watery womb and ascend to the sky. When she faded into the clouds, the lake vanished.” Gemellus finished his story with a slight smile.

Janus furrowed her brow. Fascinating tale, but she wasn’t sure of its relevance.

“Oh.” Eros breathed. “She was a mirage.”

Gemellus raised his eyebrows and turned to Eros.

“Very good. Though the Argiris say otherwise, scholars assume a mirage created the appearance of the sky upon the earth. In truth, the dragon was but a crimson-plumed desert bird diving from the clouds. But the illusion made the Argiris believe a red dragon ascended from the earth.”

“How do you know she wasn’t a dragon?” Someone behind Janus asked.

“Dragons aren’t real,” another boy said. “They don’t even live in Dragos.”

“No, they don’t,” Gemellus confirmed. “It’s important to remember that evokers cannot conjure that which is unreal. Even if you believe you have seen something, if it was merely the work of a mirage, you would be unable to conjure it, nor recall it.”

Janus scrawled the note into her journal.

“In fact, there are several things besides mirages that evokers cannot conjure.” Gemellus continued. “The living, for one.”

Janus copied every word of the lecture, sorting various concepts into those she could evoke and those she could not. She glanced over occasionally to see Eros’ attention wavering, bright pink eyes wandering the vaulted ceiling.

The tower bell sounded as a new hour began. Most of the kids leaped up, eager to escape the classroom.

“Wait.” Gemellus’ voice shot through Janus like ice.

And everyone else. The kids froze.

“I’ve left a pile of cards by the door. One for each of you. If you can hold onto them for the rest of the night without taking your eyes off them, I’ll automatically pass you on the next exam.”

“How would you know if we looked away?” A girl asked.

“Take another look at poor Adrescu,” Gemellus said, gesturing to the mud-coated boy. “I’ll know.”

The kids glanced at each other in fear. Hurried movement replaced the stillness as the little basket by the door was assaulted, kids fighting over cards. Janus chortled.

“Cards, huh?” Eros shifted in his seat. “So you are a gambler.”

Gemellus walked to the desk and knelt at the boy’s eye level. “You found me out. During my glory days in Sigilus, I was a famed crime lord who ran a popular gambling den. I could teach you my sordid secrets, but it won’t come free.”

“Uh-huh?” Eros leaned forward, enraptured.

Gemellus reached down and patted his coat, pulling a card from his pocket: rose vines swirled on a glossy black surface.

“This is a special card,” Gemellus said. “From a game played only in Sigilus. If you are lucky enough to be dealt this card, it assures your victory. Poor gamblers play it early and squander an easy win. Talented gamblers understand how to turn a losing game into a jackpot.”

Eros reached for the card, but Gemellus pulled his hand away.

“Everyone gets one. Keep your eyes on it until night falls.”

“I can do that!” Eros insisted, reaching for the card again.

This time, Gemellus let him take it. “I mean it. Keep at least one eye on it at all times. If you so much as look away for a second, I’ll know.”

Gathering her bag, Janus paused. “How do you know?”

“A gentleman never reveals his secrets,” Gemellus smirked, walking away.

One card remained in the basket. Janus picked it up daintily, elevating her arm to avoid staring at the floor and risk tumbling down the stairs or off a balcony.

Eros bumped into the edge of a desk first, then bumbled into the door frame, his card clutched in both hands, held firmly before his eyes.

A simple design painted Janus’ card: a winged woman, eyes concealed by a blindfold.

“What are you two doing?” Evander asked.

Janus resisted looking up at her brother but could see his vague shape waiting outside the classroom.

“Staring,” Eros answered as he turned down a bend in the hall and missed the archway by a couple of steps, instead slamming into the corner.

Janus nearly looked away to meet Evander’s eyes but maintained her watch on the card. “Gemellus promised a prize if we keep our eyes on the cards until night. A free pass on the next exam.”

Evander snorted. “Gemellus used to do things like that for our class, too. He’s messing with you.”

“Nuh-uh.” Eros righted himself, rubbing his nose. “Gemellus is a man of his word, Evander.”

“Is he?” Evander gently pushed Eros down the hall, guiding him away from obstacles.

“Can’t you tell?” Eros pointed to himself. “Takes one to know one.”

“I’m sure it does, Eros.” Evander agreed, rolling his eyes playfully.

Grinning, Janus trailed after them. With her gaze downcast, she didn’t notice a student walking the other way and slammed into his arm. Hastily apologizing, she looked back at her hand to see the card was gone.

“You didn’t make it far.” Gemellus’ deep voice sounded behind her, startling her.

Flexing her hand, Janus spun around, searching for where she’d dropped it. Gem caught her hand and held it up, running his fingers across her palm. When his touch left her skin, the card was sitting in her grasp.

“What are you, a cheap magician?” Janus asked.

“At times.” Gem tapped her shoulder as she passed. “Problem is, Janus, when you take your eyes off something, you can never be sure the one you get back is the same as the one you lost.”

Frowning, Janus watched him depart and examined the card. It looked the same to her. Brushing her hair back, she gasped. Father had ordered her to never lose sight of Eros.

Shoving the card into her bag, she jogged down the stairs, where Evander and Eros awaited her. The kid still had his eyes glued to the rose pattern card, only the freckles patterning his cheeks visible behind the black.

Sighing, Janus ruffled Eros’ hair. “There you are.”