Page 19 of Death of the Glass Angel (Apotheosis #1)

Janus/Talon

Galas—what awful business. I don’t miss them one bit. If the hours spent preening were not enough to drive me mad, the several other hours waiting for Gemellus to finish preening were absolute torture.

-Private letter from Professor Aevus to Sir Penna

Panic rushed through Janus in unrelenting streams of hot fire.

She knit her fingers together, clenching her hands before her chest. Heavy security watched over the palace, but it was not assassins Janus feared this night.

Hoping to appear unremarkable, Janus had chosen the plainest dress she owned. A cream-colored gown with a beaded collar and sleeves embroidered with bright purple patterns.

Gods willing, the night would be over quickly. Janus had more important things to worry about than dances.

“Are you ready?” Talon asked, straightening his collar and smoothing his black velvet shoulder cape. “The assassination attempt will be the talk of the night.”

“Don’t remind me,” Janus muttered, but she presented a smile for Kalid as he held the doors open for them.

“You’ll be fine,” Talon said encouragingly, taking her arm.

If only his confidence in her was earned.

This palace was foreboding. They passed between braziers dousing dark stone walls in fire, footsteps muffled on scarlet carpet.

Clusters of nobles populated the dance floor, a sea of unfamiliar faces.

Only one acquaintance stood out, a man with light-brown skin and wavy black hair, wearing a rather unfanciful white tunic with a tweed coat wrapped around his waist.

Felsin offered only a shallow bow, wincing and pressing a hand to his side. “There you are. Excited to be swarmed?”

“Oh, gods,” Janus murmured.

Brushing Janus’ cheek, Felsin tilted up her chin. Her first reaction was to gape with her teeth gritted, which couldn’t possibly be attractive. A noticeable blush followed.

“The bruise on your neck hasn’t faded. Play it for sympathy points if you need an escape.” He suggested, “I’ll join you later if that’s all right?”

“Of course!” Janus beamed at him, hand pressed to her chest. She temporarily forgot Talon’s presence until she noticed his eyebrows—they were closer to his hairline than his eyes. “Are you going to stick with me?”

“No.” Talon denied.

“Could you?”

“I taught you everything I know. Don’t you think it’s time the baby bird flew the nest?”

As Talon moved to walk away, Janus grabbed onto his elbow and pulled him back. “I’m funding your ticket. You’re staying with me.”

Talon sighed. “Very well, my lady.”

The setting sun poured orange light through the wall of windows, illuminating nosy and curious gazes as people Janus didn’t want anywhere near her turned in her direction. Pretending to admire the wall of banners and flags, Janus calmed her thrumming heart.

They were just people. Why was the threat of people so much more pressing than blades?

“Talon,” Janus turned to her date.

Her date, who was no longer there.

A twinge of guilt pricked at Janus’ heart. Years ago, she’d slip away from Eros just like that. He’d been clingy, and as a young girl, she’d longed for space.

And now that she had it, Janus would give anything to spend even a single hour with Eros again.

Janus exhaled heavily. Talon was right. She needed to learn to overcome these nerves, lest she fail to solve the mysteries at hand.

Her gaze landed on Dinu, who sat at the end of the bar, drink in hand. Judging from his slightly messy hair and slightly wrinkled doublet, he no more wanted to be here than she did.

Rushing to his side, Janus reached him before the old woman who’d been watching her from across the room could launch an interrogation.

Dinu looked up from his drink. “Evening, Janus. You look different tonight, what without the. . .” He passed a hand over his eyes.

Janus studied his eyelids, confused. “Without the what?”

“Dark smudgy stuff,” Dinu gestured to his eyes again. “This is the second time you’ve come to see me first. Am I more handsome than I thought?”

“You look like you don’t want to be here.”

“Ah. You don’t want to be here, either.” He took a heavy swig of his drink. “Can’t blame you. You must be shaken up.”

“A little.” Janus sank into the seat beside him.

“Imagine how I feel.” Dinu gestured broadly. “I wasn’t at the hunt when it happened, so naturally, everyone thinks I did it.”

“Neither was Paulus.”

“Right, everyone else thinks it was him.”

“Oh.”

“And the others think it was Kahn.” Dinu shook his head. “I hate gossip. I guess I could assure you I had nothing to do with that attack, but then again, that’s precisely what the assassin would say.”

“How would you have killed me?”

“That’s a weird question.” Dinu set down his drink. “Well, for one, I wouldn’t have done it in plain daylight. Probably would have staged an accident or poisoned your drink. The former is more reliable. Barring all that, invite you to an evening out and shoot you in a back alley.”

“I guess it wasn’t you, then.”

“Fastest trial I’ve ever seen.”

Janus chuckled, swiveling restlessly in her seat. She caught the iron-eyed gaze of Royal Chief Heras, who sat at the head table with the other clan chiefs. The woman looked remarkably like her son, though Janus supposed that wasn’t surprising.

Heras offered a cordial smile before turning away.

Though Janus could not recall, Talon had mentioned Heras staring at Janus oddly. Maybe. . .

Janus took a deep breath and drained her wine glass. With every gulp, Dinu’s eyebrows rose further. Sitting the glass down with a clink, Janus stood. “I’m going to talk with the chiefs.”

“May that liquid courage do more good than harm.” Dinu offered words of support before returning to his mug.

Janus smiled at Dinu as she strode away. She was going to need it.

* * *

Talon glanced over his shoulder but caught no sign of Janus. He felt terrible leaving the girl alone, but she needed to grow a backbone. And unless someone felt particularly bold tonight, Janus was perfectly safe here.

Wandering to the dance floor, Talon joined the crowd lining its edge, watching the couples spin.

An ensemble of every instrument gathered on a stage across from him, switching between various styles and cultures.

As one song ended and the performers picked up violins and cellos, Talon knew a waltz was coming.

A red-headed woman dressed in a complementary pale green gown approached Talon and offered him a curtsy. “You’re the best-looking guy here. Could I steal a dance?”

Talon smiled and bowed. “I’d love nothing more.” He took her hand and led her to the dance floor.

As they stood opposite one another, Valkyrie laid a hand on Talon’s shoulder and leaned in. “Clever, our villain. I haven’t found one clue pointing to who sent those assassins. "

“Neither have I,” Talon replied, watching her dress swirl across the floor. “Did you-”

“Get the impression the attack was meant to send a message?” Valkyrie finished his thought. “Good. So did I. But are they threatening Felsin and Janus? Or someone else?”

“I’m not sure. My instinct is they meant to frame Kahn.”

“But why him?” Valkyrie asked. Talon spun her and pulled her back in. “Sigilus had nothing to do with it.”

“How certain are you of that?”

“As certain as I can be. Paulus is stunned.” She paused. “I wonder if the attack comes from outside the alliance.”

“I doubt it. Why would they target Janus? Why not Dinu or Paulus?” Talon twirled Valkyrie around, pulling them to an isolated corner of the dance floor.

“Let’s switch,” Valkyrie suggested. “You take over the stone quarter. I’ll pursue this line of thought.”

“Why?”

“Oh, Talon.” Valkyrie’s dry voice teased. “You’re not fit to chase assassins. Let me handle the danger.”

“And what if whoever’s vanishing people in the stone quarter kidnaps me, hm?”

“Flash those pretty eyes of yours. It works on most people.”

“But not you.” Talon retorted.

“No, not me.” She smiled for half a moment, then frowned.

“I did find one thing,” Talon murmured. “In the Gaevral maevruthan.”

“Do tell.”

While they danced, Talon relayed everything he could remember about the peculiar memory he had seen. In hindsight, nothing condemning hid in Heras’s words to her companion, but the conversation was undeniably strange.

The unseen voices spoke over one another.

He’s going to trip. They whispered.

He’s going to be overheard. The deep voice added.

He’s not much of a dancer. Another teased.

He left Janus behind.

Valkyrie patiently waited for Talon to finish his account despite the multiple interruptions where he listened to people who were not present, their voices maddeningly loud, pulling his attention in multiple directions.

“What an odd exchange.” Valkyrie’s brow wrinkled. “Why bring up the death of Prince Eros now?”

“Who knows? But she thinks it’s connected to Felsin’s potential death.”

The song wound down. Valkyrie took Talon’s hand and led him from the dance floor. “I wonder if she’s right. Lark was sent to investigate Eros’ death, but he never found anything. I suppose it could have been murder. But why? Whoever did it never followed up on it.”

Talon shrugged. It was the best answer he could conjure.

Valkyrie chuckled softly but not genuinely. “Invite me to your table later.”

“I’d love to, Lady Mela.” He offered her a bow. “Until then.”

As Valkyrie merged with the crowd, Talon rubbed his neck, where the folds of his collar rubbed against his scar, itching.

The stone quarter. It did not seem related to anything else, but if Valkyrie thought it worth investigating, he supposed he could look into it. But how was he supposed to slip away from Janus?

Easily. It was only Des who watched him like a hawk.

Talon’s mind wandered. How could Janus be so different, yet the same? Notes of the same personality appeared between the two, but otherwise, they were entirely distinct. And while Janus elicited nothing in Talon. . .

Des certainly did.

Searching for the woman in question, Talon found her across the room, boldly approaching Chief Heras.