Page 25 of Death of the Glass Angel (Apotheosis #1)

Janus/Talon

I suspect you’ve done something you weren’t meant to. You lie as if deception’s your second language, but I’ve known you too long to be fooled. What did you do to that girl? The one with the red hair?

-Private letter from Sir Penna to Gemellus Instigo

The road back to the city had flown by in a blur. Guards had swarmed her until the palace courtyard, where Janus had managed to convince them to give her space. Kalid would disapprove of her using the opportunity to train for battle.

With the assassin dead, all leads had died. Janus would have to learn to defend herself; whoever wanted her dead would strike again, and she didn’t mean to die yet.

“Alright.” Janus shook her limbs, loosening them. “Hit me.”

Folding his arms, Felsin approached Janus, pressing her back to the courtyard wall. “The key to survival is perception. Listening for movements in the earth, watching the world around you. Not all assassins will appear as shadows with knives.”

Movements in the earth? Easy for an earthborn cefra to say. Janus glanced at the moss-covered dirt, tapping it with her foot.

“We’ll start with something simple.” Felsin skimmed over the courtyard. “I’m going to make a section of this garden tremble slightly. Tell me where.”

Gemellus had employed a lesson like this: he’d ask Janus to seek out tiny details in her environment while focusing on something else entirely. They had. . . not gone well.

Staring at Felsin, Janus attempted to focus, to listen. Gemellus’ worries had seemed unwarranted back then, as had Evander’s. Now that a knife had grazed her throat, Janus finally took the lesson to heart.

There, behind a table, a rock trembled slightly. Gentle reverberations snaked through the earth, barely brushing her feet. Janus nodded behind the table, and Felsin smiled.

“Good.” Felsin continued. “Now, do I seem like I’m about to attack you?”

Janus studied the man before her, his arms folded tightly, a slight frown on his face. If there was anything to read in his body language or facial expression, Janus missed it. She had never been good at this.

“No-”

Janus’s response was cut short. The cefran man was upon her, grabbing her wrist and twisting it behind her back. Within a heartbeat, he had her pinned to the wall, at his mercy.

If he meant to frighten her, it failed. The opposite flourished in her heart. Heat rushed through her cheeks when she noticed how close they were, and how tightly he held her.

“You’re dead,” Felsin said casually, dropping her wrist.

Disappointed, Janus rolled up her sleeves and pulled off her cloak. “Alright. Let’s try again.”

“In a real battle, you only have a breath to defend yourself.” He said, pacing around her. “But you’ve learned that already.”

Janus recalled Talon appearing at her side, drenched by the rain, a dagger in hand. He’d learned this lesson, and he was only a merchant. She could do this.

Just when Janus thought Felsin wasn’t going to attack, he lunged. A thousand memories flashed past Janus’ mind in her panic, and she failed to grasp any of them. An axe crafted from stone appeared at her throat as she was pinned to the wall again.

“Dead,” Felsin announced. “Though, you looked like you were trying. . . something.”

“I never realized how hard it was to find a specific memory under duress.”

“Talon said you made a carriage the first time. It’s not. . . conventional, but it worked.” He lowered his axe, and it crumbled into dust. “Use whatever comes to mind. It doesn’t have to be a weapon.”

Whatever came to mind? Stuffed dates arrived first, detestable nuggets of sorrow Thuatians adored for some reason.

Chains that held up a great stone bridge leading over the Valerian Lake followed. The result was somewhat muddled.

Felsin gasped in surprise as shackles bolted around his wrists, dragging him onto his back, and chaining him to the courtyard floor. A plate of stuffed dates appeared beside him. His brows furrowed when he noticed them.

“Huh.” Janus chuckled, concentrating on her spells.

“I was teaching you to defend, but I guess this works too.” Felsin stared at the dates. “Ah, but what-”

“They came to mind.”

Janus stepped over him, intending to lean down and unlock the chains. She kneeled at his side, distracted by his golden eyes. Without a pupil, they were like a sea of molten gold, unreadable and unreachable. Endless.

“Janus,” Felsin said softly. “It’s a spell. Can’t you just. . . dismiss it?”

“Oh. I guess.”

“Or do you not want to?”

The question took her off guard, and a booming, amused voice filled the ensuing silence.

“What’s going on here?” Brand strode into the courtyard.

Janus fell backward onto her ass, losing concentration on her spell. Felsin bolted to his feet, standing in front of her protectively.

The plate of dates lingered.

Janus swallowed, looking up at Brand, Felsin’s red-headed brother. A wicked sneer crossed his face, a mix of emotions. “Getting close with the little shut-in, are we?”

Felsin brushed himself off. “Would it kill you to enter a room quietly for once?”

Brand’s mouth fell into a line. “I hear our assassin was killed and dumped. Whoever wants your head is resourceful—and hard to find.”

“Assassins you led to us.”

“I was given an escort. Do you interrogate your men on every outing?” Brand stepped around Felsin, staring at Janus. “I’ve heard you had high marks at Valeria. Is that really all you can manage?”

“I. . .” Janus wanted to defend herself, but found nothing to say.

“Not every evoker exists to start bar fights.” Felsin jabbed.

“Don’t lie to yourself, brother. You get into just as many.” Brand’s eyes darted west. “Ah, but you have a guest.” Glancing at Janus, he walked away.

A red-haired woman in a plain pale-green gown curtsied to Brand before approaching Janus. Scarlet eyes searched Janus’ face as the cefran woman curtsied.

“Sorry to bother you, Lady Janus.” The woman said. “I’m looking for someone, and your steward said only you would know where to find them.”

“Who? Talon?” Janus guessed.

“Yes. Have you seen him? He was late for our appointment.”

Janus flipped through her mind, recalling the woman. Lady Mela, Prince Paulus’ lover. Why was she looking for Talon? Shaking her head, Janus responded. “I haven’t seen Talon all day.”

“Did he mention where he might be going?”

“Shopping. He wanted to peruse the visiting merchants.”

“Ah. He’s probably lost track of time then.” Lady Mela offered another curtsy. “Thank you.” She spun on her heel and strode away.

Janus watched the woman depart, a frown deepening on her face. A shiver ran down her spine, and she stiffened.

The woman’s silhouette as she faded into the night matched the starlit woman in Janus’ vision; the one beneath the hanged man’s constellation. The one consumed by dragon’s shadow.

Waiting for Mela to leave, Felsin turned to Janus. “I keep retracing what Alfaris showed you. He’s never been direct, but I usually puzzle out what he means.”

“Did you figure it out?”

“We’re missing something. You said you didn’t recognize the woman standing with the antlered dragon.”

“Good timing,” Janus said. “I just found her.”

* * *

Talon was fed up with this investigation. What a waste of time. Here he stood in the barren stone quarter, tracking down a kidnapper.

Assassins stalked the city, ordered by a shadowed hand. What was Valkyrie thinking, wasting his time with this?

Thumbing through his list of names, Talon watched the crowds funneling through the mountain city’s streets. Fifty young men were gone. All stormborn cefra. But nobody cared.

Sighing, Talon fished his pocket watch from his coat and snapped it open. He stared at the ticking hands before starting. Valkyrie had wanted to meet him at a café to exchange notes and update each other. He usually was rather punctual. Evidently, not tonight.

“There you are.”

How timely. Returning the watch to his pocket, Talon spun to face Valkyrie, dressed down from her Lady Mela guise into simple leathers. She looked equal parts irritated and amused.

“Sorry. I’ve been distracted.” Talon muttered.

“Find anything?”

“Someone’s got it out for no-name stormborns,” Talon explained. “What about you?”

“Not much. The assassin who fled was found dead.” Valkyrie said, eyes scanning the maze-like streets of huts. “You said all the victims were stormborn?”

“Yeah. Young men, nobody will miss.”

“Hm.” Valkyrie’s eyes flashed. “Like you.”

“Yes.” Talon sighed. “Like me. Which is why I’m not keen to stick around.”

“Not until I follow this to its answer.” Valkyrie insisted. “Why don’t we bait our culprit out? See if he stalks you?”

“And get myself killed?”

“Don’t you think at least one body would have been found by now if it were just some wanton butcher? I’ll be watching. If you’re in danger, I’ll be right behind you.”

Talon thumbed through his notebook, loath to accept her suggestion. But if indulging her meant he could move on to more fruitful endeavors. . .

“Fine,” Talon said shortly. “I’ll wander to a remote part of town and look vulnerable.”

“I’ll be watching,” Valkyrie promised.

She disappeared into a winding alley. A chill wind rustled Talon’s coattails, and he shivered. Tucking the notebook back into his pocket, he shoved his hands into their warmth and strolled north. Maybe nothing would happen. He hoped so.

What is he doing? The deep voice questioned.

He’s going to get himself killed. A low voice warned.

No, let him go. Another encouraged.

He’s missing something.

* * *

Janus leaned on her suite door, fastening her nightgown’s strings before unlacing them again. Raja leaned over her bed, smoothing down the sheets and placing a warming pan beneath the mattress.

The old woman stood, brushing loose white strands behind her ears. “Something wrong?”

“Talon isn’t back,” Janus answered. “It’s almost midnight.”

“So?”

“I’m just worried.”

“Don’t be. He’s your guide, not your charge.” Raja rubbed her hands on her apron and left the room, closing the door behind her.