Page 27 of Death of the Glass Angel (Apotheosis #1)

Janus

Five years ago. . .

So many people walked the streets, bright smiles on their faces and laughs on their lips.

And though the carpenter had lost his wife and the mason his child, you would never read in their eyes a semblance of grief.

Were they indifferent, uncaring? Or did they crumble to pieces once the doors shut behind their backs?

Janus’s hands trembled on the edges of her book, and she wiped the beads of sweat growing on her palms on her pants before tightening her hold on the tome.

Some days were more painless than others. Sometimes, it was almost easy to forget. But more often than not, the absence gnawed at Janus like an all-consuming hole growing ever larger in her chest.

A heavy thud startled Janus as Evander dropped a book onto his desk before striding to his office door and throwing it open.

Without missing a beat, he whirled around and marched to the window, parting the drapes and throwing the glass panes open.

A breeze blustered through, throwing wild Evander’s cloak and neatly kept hair.

Relieved, Evander returned to the pile of books on his desk and gathered them into his arms. He stood before his bookshelf, carefully sorting them on the shelves. Janus shrank back into her armchair, watching him idly.

“Are you alright?” She asked quietly.

“Fine,” Evander answered.

Dropping the matter, Janus fell silent. Grief weighed heavily on both of their shoulders. The palace had not been warm for years.

As each book found its new home on the shelf, Janus noticed Evander left one untouched; it lay by its lonesome on his desk. Slipping off the armchair, Janus curiously approached the desk, observing the cover of the left-behind book.

Oh. This book detailed ores and minerals found on their continent. This had been Eros’s book. The boy had taken a strange interest in rocks. And though Janus had never found them particularly gripping, she felt a twinge of inquisitiveness today.

“Is this Eros’s book on rocks?” She asked.

“Minerals.” Evander corrected.

Same thing. Janus reached for the book.

“Don’t touch that.” Evander snapped.

Janus froze, hand hovering over the tome’s worn cover. “Why not?”

“Because. . .” Evander’s eyes darted around, and Janus noticed an expression she often wore. He was searching for an answer he didn’t have. “Because you’ll ruin it.”

With a slam, Evander shoved the next book on the shelf and continued his work, eyes fixed forward as if to ignore Janus’s presence. Retracting her hand, Janus eyed the book.

A last remnant of Eros. Perhaps it was better left untouched.

Slinking back to her chair, Janus curled up in its embrace and picked up her book, but the lines of text were little more than unintelligible smudges to her fogged mind. She thumbed aimlessly through the pages.

Her mind dwelt on her brother. On his death. On the fire. On her failure. And the screams from that night echoed in her head, like nails on a chalkboard, as real as though sounding in the room next door.

Pain. Agony. Death. All her fault.

Janus’s breathing came quicker and quicker, and she dropped the book, pressing her hands to her face, hoping to claw the memory from her mind. She raked her hands across her eyes, and her mind darkened.

Straightening her shoulders and tidying her hair, Des reached down and recovered the book, brushing its cover off and setting it aside. Evander stiffened by the bookshelf, though his back remained to her. After a moment’s pause, he continued sorting.

“Hello, Des.” He said.

Narrowing her eyes, Des stared at Janus’s brother. How had he known?

Another gust of wind burst through the window. As Evander’s cloak settled with the ceasing of the wind, Des noticed something hanging around his neck, visible for the briefest moment before Evander straightened his collar and hid the pendant once more.

What an unusual piece of jewelry. Part of it resembled glass, a small, bulb-shaped piece. But wings emerged off the pendant, shining and brilliant, like the brightest silver, yet flecked with lustrous spots of pale blue. Des had never seen anything like it.

“What is that?” Des asked, pointing at his neck.

Evander set down his final book and turned, following her finger. “Oh. A necklace.”

“It’s beautiful. Why do you hide it?”

“I don’t. You’ve just never noticed it.”

His answers were purposefully dodgy. Frowning, Des stared into Evander’s dark brown eyes. “Where did you get it?”

“It was a gift.”

“From a suitor?”

Evander stared at her for a moment before chuckling. “Sure.” He smoothed down his hair and fixed his cloak. “Father wanted to have lunch with me. I suppose I should get going.” He offered a curt bow and swept out the door.

That man was hiding something.

Gently placing her book on the end table, Des returned to the desk and flipped open Eros’ book on minerals.

Several notations marred the pages, penned in Eros’s surprisingly neat hand.

Nothing interesting revealed itself in the notes.

The best applications for each metal were jotted near the top, and facts Eros found fascinating were outlined.

Occasionally, a rough sketch of whatever Eros hoped to create from the various metals colored the top right corner.

That kid, a blacksmith? Des smirked. He was much too scrawny. Given another year or two, he would have drifted on to another obsession.

Letting the book fall closed, Des carefully returned it to its previous position and exited the office, closing the door behind her. Fixing her bangs, she strolled down the hall, passing by her blonde-haired, blindfolded tutor. Gemellus paused, turning in her direction.

“Hello, Des.” He said.

She whirled around, exasperated. “How did you know?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Gemellus teased. “You know, I always commend a healthy curiosity.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“Must your answers always be sarcastic? I know you think you know everything at the ripe age of fourteen, but I promise you there’s more to be found.” Gemellus continued. “You only need to look.”

He was getting at something. Wrinkling her brow, Des studied the eccentric tutor. “What do you mean?”

“I like to check every nook and cranny. Much of interest can be found behind the mundane.”

Was he talking about what Des believed he was? Gemellus had always had an odd eye for, well, everything. Chancing her guess, she folded her arms. “It was a book on rocks. How interesting could it be?”

Shoving his hands back into his pocket, Gemellus gracefully spun back around. “You never know until you look.”

Des remained frozen in the hall until the man faded from sight. Sighing to herself, she stalked back to the office and pulled the door open. Returning to the book, she flipped it open, quickly skimming through the back half.

Eros was fascinated by anmarite, the ore immune to flame and shaped by lightning’s touch. He dreamed of being the first smith to craft armor from the rare metal.

But nothing else was here. Only scribblings from an innocent child.