Page 3 of Death of the Glass Angel (Apotheosis #1)

Janus

One innocent yet lives in this world. One glass angel. Such creatures only grace our world but once every thousand years. And I intend to claim him.

-Letter from Lady Entia to Gemellus Instigo

Evander finished tying Janus’ deep purple headscarf into place and tilted his head to gaze into the mirror. Observing her expression, he sighed. “You look pathetic, Janus.”

“Don’t I know it?” Janus agreed.

“Traveling isn’t pleasant for anyone, but it’s not as bad as you think.” Evander stepped away. “And you’re the one who denied taking a carriage.”

“I wanted to ride.”

“Because horses seem more like adventures.” Evander assumed

He was partially correct. At least on horseback, Janus could pretend she was striking out to ancient ruins rather than a ballroom.

A carriage had brought her home on the day of the fire. It was such a silly thing, but. . .

Reaching up to check her brother’s work, Janus wrinkled her nose as she observed herself in the mirror. When had she grown to resemble her brother so strongly? Matching brown eyes and dark hair. Their waves even curled in the same place.

“You know,” Evander added, running a finger along his chin as he stared at their reflections. “Dates don’t grow in Altanbern. I daresay you won’t see one during your stay there.”

“Are you trying to cheer me up?”

“Is it working?”

“A little.” Grabbing her traveling bag from her desk and throwing it over her shoulder, Janus sighed and nodded. “Alright. I’m ready.”

Evander pushed the door open, and they stepped outside. Their footsteps echoed through the hallway as they approached the stairs. Gemellus loitered at the banister, clutching something as he turned to intercept them.

“Ah, Janus.” Gemellus shook his hand, unfolding a small black cloth embroidered with golden vines. He tilted his head and reached forward, gently tying it around Janus’ neck.

“What’s this?” She asked, looking down and thumbing the cloth’s edge.

“I wore this during my time in Sigilus’ courts.

It’s more a secret code than a fashion statement.

” Gemellus explained. “Say you’re dining with someone you really can’t stand.

Throwing that handkerchief on the table is a polite way of informing them you would rather choke on a chicken bone than spend another moment in their company. ”

“Won’t I offend someone?”

“Not at all. It’s considered polite.” Gemellus paused. “But if your brother is looking at me the way I imagine he is, I also must advise you to use it sparingly.”

“Good grief,” Evander muttered.

“You’re the best, Gem.” Janus declared.

“I’m well aware.” He offered her a polite, stiff bow. “Safe travels, dear.”

Shaking his head, Evander steered her away from their mentor. At the base of the stairwell, the king and queen awaited them to see Janus off.

Queen Tauret, ageless, looked not a day over thirty, though she must have been in her mid-forties by now. Her purple eyes had lost much of their luster in the past few years, but her white-blonde hair was always pulled tautly into a neat bun.

Father had fared worse. His once-tall, lean build had slumped, and he had put on weight.

The golden-orange tiara on his head was slightly obscured by dark hair that had grown long and messy, but when he saw his children, his face lit up, nearly matching the splendor of his intricately embroidered tunic.

Tight yet fleeting, Father pulled Janus into a hug and released her. “Be careful. Do not go anywhere without an escort.”

“I won’t,” Janus promised.

Queen Tauret glared at Janus, her mouth set in a hard line. She had never been cruel. But the coldness between them had hardened like ice. Janus doubted they had shared more than a few words over the years.

Janus and Evander shared a mother—a woman Janus could scarcely remember. Even while Eros was alive, Tauret had not cared for her step-children. Now? The queen glared at Janus with a silent accusation she’d never voiced: you murdered my son.

Looking down, Janus offered the queen and king a bow, and they dipped their heads.

“Keep your ears and eyes open,” Father said quietly. “If you hear or see anything unusual, bring it back to me.”

If Father was worried about something specific, he did not voice it. Confused, Janus nodded and returned to Evander’s side.

Six guards and one attendant would travel with her, though Janus wished she could go alone.

They weren’t bad people, at least. The older woman serving as her maid for the trip hardly spoke, always wearing a concentrated expression as she set about her work.

Janus was unfamiliar with most guards, but one of the six was the pudgy, kindly-faced guard she recalled from the night of Eros’ funeral.

He had made a habit of checking on her on occasion.

Kalid. Janus had made a point to ask his name.

Evander remained with her as they exited the palace, but paused on the promenade. “Father’s right.” He whispered. “You should watch your back.”

“We’re at peace.” Janus protested. “What could possibly go wrong?”

“You’ll be on your own. Easy prey for anyone seeking to hurt you.”

“Do you think someone is going to try?”

“No,” Evander said quickly. “But it never hurts to be careful.”

“Good thing I never leave my room, then, huh?” Janus said.

Evander breathed a laugh and embraced Janus, allowing the hug to linger as he rocked her back and forth for a few seconds before reluctantly releasing her. Janus felt like a bird pushed from its nest when he stepped away.

Shouldering her bag, Janus danced down two steps and froze, glancing back at her brother. He watched her calmly, expression underlined with worry. Taking a deep breath, Janus turned away. The sooner she left, the sooner she would be home.

Piona’s towering stone gates revealed a stretch of desert road and the scattered homes along the city’s outskirts.

Dozens of guards patrolled the walls, turbans flapping in the wind beneath their helmets.

People from other countries gathered in vast numbers, their clothing distinct from the native Thuatians.

Janus stared at a mountain of a horse, with broad hooves and a thick neck.

It pulled a thin metal wagon with a strange black tarp pulled tautly over top.

An older man with auburn hair, dressed in a fluttering red suit, barked orders at his employees.

Merchants from Dragos, accompanied by a Dragosi mountain-stepper.

Janus’s mouth warbled as she watched the horse paw the dirt and swish its tail.

Her much smaller horse nuzzled the back of her head, wetting her hair with saliva. Making a face of disgust, Janus ran a hand over her tan and white paint horse, its body short yet broad.

What was the hold-up? Kalid had walked away to meet with their guide but had been gone a while. Glancing at her guards, Janus slipped away when their gazes fell elsewhere.

Pushing past the horde of carriages, Janus walked back inside the walls, turning to look up at the ancient gates—gorgeous structures, though she rarely got to see them.

Pulling out her journal, she sketched the outline of the ancient walls and the statue of Yesharu, the god of time, who stood guard over the southern exit.

She marveled at the sheer scope of the statue, carved centuries ago. So many tiny details were engraved in the great sundial he clutched.

Something brushed against her. Looking around, she noticed someone running away from her before realizing her purse was gone. Patting her belt, she cursed and chased after the pickpocket.

Pushing through a family, Janus caught sight of the thief several paces ahead, a raggedly clothed young man. He was far faster than she was. Within a few seconds, the distance between them grew as he dashed deeper into the city.

A man in a light blue coat stepped from a shop’s awning into the thief’s path. Deftly grabbing the young man’s arm, he quickly restrained him, twisting his arm behind his back.

Relieved, Janus caught up as her savior wrenched the bag from the pickpocket. Holding up the purse, he flashed her a smile.

Oh. He was rather more attractive than she expected. Sharp featured, freckles scattered across his high cheekbones, rising to meet his rich purple eyes. Bright and radiant, his irises glowed, broken up only by a barely visible pupil. He was cefran.

“This yours?” An elegant accent touched his words. He tossed the bag to Janus.

“Thank you.” She gasped, out of breath.

“And what of this one?” He turned the thief around.

Janus clutched her bag to her chest, taking in the thief’s young features. He could only be about fourteen. “Let him go.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Releasing the pickpocket, he watched as the kid scrambled to escape. “That’s kind of you. If naive.”

“I just don’t have time.” Janus caught her breath, hooking her purse to her belt. “That was impressive. Are you a. . .” She cocked her head, trying to size him up. He looked far too rich and well-dressed to be a soldier.

“I’m from Sigilus.” He said, amused. “Pickpockets are a dime a dozen, there. Catching them is an innate skill we all have.” He glanced past her. “I’m late for an appointment, but I suspect you’re my client.”

Spinning around, Janus saw Kalid running toward her, mail clinking with every step. “My lady.” He called. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Brow wrinkled, Janus looked between the men. “Is this who you were looking for?”

“Yes.” Kalid bowed his head.

The other man nodded politely. “Forgive my lateness. It’s an honor to meet you, my lady. Talon’s the name.” He winked, striding past her to join Kalid.

Janus had imagined someone quite different when Kalid mentioned a guide. An old man, or an eccentric woman, not. . .

Realizing she’d dropped her journal in the chaos, she retraced her steps and retrieved the now dusty tome.

Trailing Kalid, Janus hastily sketched the final piece of the gates: the great sundial Yesharu clutched in his left hand. Snapping her book closed, she ran to catch up, taking one last glance at her home.

As they weaved back through the crowds, Kalid placed a firm hand on her arm, only releasing her once the caravan was mounted and prepared to leave. Her guards fanned out, forming a protective circle around Janus, but the new member of their company rode alongside Janus atop a sleek, dark stallion.

Sizing him up, Janus rehearsed a few approaches in her head before finding the courage to speak. “So, you’re a guide?”

Talon chuckled. “Not for a living. I’m a merchant. My travels take me to Altanbern several times a year, so I know it like the back of my hand.”

“A Sigillite merchant? How did Kalid find you?”

“Chance encounter, a few years back.” Changing the subject, he leaned forward on his saddle. “I’ve heard a bit about you. The prodigious star of Valeria.”

“Ahah.” Janus brushed her bangs behind her ear. “I made high marks, but I wouldn’t say-”

“And I hear you’re not much of a socialite.” Talon tilted his head. “Luckily for you, I am. If you have any questions about Altanese customs, you only have to ask.”

Questions? Janus had a million questions and no idea how to act around so many important people. Evander had continuously encouraged her to ‘be herself’ and ‘behave.’ Useless advice.

Herself was. . . How had Gemellus put it? ‘An aura of destruction.’

“What about the other nations?” Janus asked. “Nobles from across the alliance will be there.”

“I haven’t been to Dragos much,” He grimaced. “But I hear they aren’t particularly friendly. Just don’t talk to them.”

“Easy enough.”

“The rest? I could recite every dance from their history.”

“Great,” Janus said a bit too forcefully. “I’m expected to go in there alone, and. . . and when I’m in a crowded room it’s like my throat closes up.”

Taken aback by her frank answer, Talon chuckled. “You’re young. Most people will be trying to court you or hoping to make you court their children. The rest will engage in idle gossip. Know any good rumors?”

“Um. . .”

“Alright, that’s a no. Can you dance?”

“Not particularly well.”

“Oh dear.” He hid an amused smile. “Well, we have a couple of weeks ahead of us on the road. Time enough to learn.” He leaned his head on his closed fist. “Gossiping is easy enough. Why don’t we start now?”

“Do we chat about our sex lives or someone else’s?” Janus asked.

“Oh, nothing so trite as that.” Talon tutted. His face darkened, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Royal Chief Heras has been acting strangely, don’t you think?”

“She has?”

“Everyone knows it. She’s been holding private meetings with unknown guests and didn’t attend the last Thruinc Council meeting.” Talon continued. “What do you think she’s up to?”

It took a moment, but Janus realized Talon wasn’t asking her. “Oh, you want me to make up a theory?”

“Or retort with something of your own.”

“I don’t really know much about the Royal Chief.”

“Alright, how about this?” He drummed his fingers on his knee. “Don’t Thuatians all hate each other?”

“No. We easterners are superior to westerners, because they all smell like coal. But they say we smell of fish, and the northerners claim none of us understand culture.” Janus paused. “Which, I guess, I agree with. Northern architecture is much more interesting.”

She looked back at Talon to see him grinning. “See? Easy.”

“Well,” Janus smiled half-heartedly, “I hope nobles enjoy hearing about centuries-old squabbles over rocks.”

“That’s a good strategy. Bore them until they leave.” He winked, riding away to talk to Kalid.

Janus’ mind froze as she replayed the wink in her mind. She had expected her guide to be a place of comfort, an eccentric with an inviting crinkled face, not a charming young man.

Was this a blessing or a curse? She couldn’t decide.

All she knew was Gemellus would have something snarky to say about it.