Page 37 of Death of the Glass Angel (Apotheosis #1)

Janus/Des

I was never accused of my crimes, never prosecuted. No wanted posters displayed my face, no people whispered of my misdeeds. How could they have? By all rights, I did not exist.

-Gemellus’ private journal

On the journey home, Janus had constructed several excuses. Now sitting in her suite, safe and warm, a cup of warm tea in hand, her words escaped her. Kalid sat across the table, exhausted and concerned, waiting for her response.

Janus had always liked Kalid. He had always been kind to Janus, even if he lamented his job at home. And after the harrowing events in the ruins, his pudgy face was a great comfort.

“I snuck out.” Janus finally admitted, tapping her fingers on the mug. “I was worried about Talon.”

Kalid sighed. “I figured. Felsin came looking for you like he knew. Did-”

“No.” Janus cut him off. “Felsin helped save my life.”

Kalid drummed his fingers on the table before nodding, accepting her answer. “And nothing explained who they were?”

“No.” Janus shook her head.

Leaning back in his chair, Kalid released a heavy exhale. “Your brother is going to have me executed.”

“He won’t. You weren’t on watch that night.” Janus pursed her lips. “Who was? He’s going to be executed.”

Chuckling, Kalid stood. “I have a thousand people to question and report to. You.” He pointed at Janus. “Don’t move.”

“Yes, sir,” Janus said quietly.

Grabbing his cloak, Kalid swept out the door.

Extra guards stood watch outside but had been instructed to give Janus privacy in her room.

Tugging her blanket around her shoulders, Janus picked up her tea and sat on the edge of her bed.

The blankets and curtains were a pleasant pale yellow but did little to brighten her mood.

With a clink, Janus set her teacup down on the night table and rose. She fished through her bags, producing the strange glass bulb with bright wings. It had been labeled ‘The Glass Angel.’ A title.

The rare rose of the desert. Only one bloomed each year.

Turning it over, Janus ran a hand through her hair. Des had pulled the ponytail free while sitting in her cell. Janus could remember it. But despite the free-falling locks, a clip still pinned back her bangs. The rose-shaped hairpiece Gemellus had given her for good luck.

A hairpiece meant to resemble the glass angel.

The winged necklace sat quietly in Janus’s hands, a stunning piece of jewelry. She turned it over a few times, watching the chandelier’s light bounce off the pale blue hidden within the lustrous metal wings. This pattern was familiar, but Janus could not place why.

A knock sounded at the door before it swung open, and Talon walked in, his bandaged arm safely concealed beneath a dark gray coat. His signature pale blue jacket had been tarnished with blood and dirt.

As he closed the door behind them, Talon spoke chipperly. “Your guard wasn’t sure if they should let me back in. I mean, everyone attested that I was kidnapped with you, but they briefly wondered if I wasn’t the culprit. Tsk.” He shoved his hands in his pockets as he wandered over.

Janus frowned. “They really can’t tell you’re a-”

“A what?” Talon asked, pointedly glaring.

Nodding, Janus changed subjects. “How are you feeling?”

“Oh, I’ve been better.” Talon turned over his injured arm. “But I guess I can’t complain. I’m still alive, after all.” He smirked. “I bet your mind is still on those ruins.”

“They were fascinating.” Janus agreed. “I’ve started to sketch them out. I think it was the old palace before the clans separated.” She paused. “It should be gone. But it’s not. It doesn’t make sense.”

“No.” He agreed. “It doesn’t.”

Clutching the glass angel to her chest, Janus walked forward. “Listen, Talon. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you; I was just stressed and overwhelmed, and-”

“Oh.” Talon chuckled. “You’re worried about that? I’ve done worse to Valkyrie in my time.” He shrugged. “Water under the bridge.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure Janus. I’m fine.”

His usual lighthearted tone and easy smile accompanied the words. The same attitude he’d employed since meeting Janus. A merchant, her chipper guide.

Sure, he’d returned to his old temperament. But Talon had always been lying.

A second knock interrupted their privacy. Raja poked her head in. “You’ve a summons, girl. An urgent meeting is being held at the palace.”

* * *

Janus shifted in her seat, tugging at her dress to relieve the itching under her skin. By all accounts, she sat in the lap of luxury, seated in a cushioned chair with a buffet splayed across the lavish table.

Janus picked up her fork and laid it down again, remembering one of Gemellus’ earliest lessons: how to read a room. Raising her head, she scanned the table.

Brand sat to one side of her, and Felsin on the other, poking at his dinner. His eyes darted around, eventually landing on her. Reaching under the table, he clicked his fingers a few times and held out a piece of ham.

A tiny white cat scurried under the chair, chasing the ham when Felsin tossed it beneath Janus. The warm, fuzzy creature stuffed itself under her legs, dispelling some of her nerves.

Sors was not supposed to be here. Felsin discreetly lifted his hand and winked at Janus. The black kohl smudged around his eyes made his irises gleam like gold. Janus probably looked like a buck-toothed horse, gaping at him like a love-sick idiot.

Pressing her feet against the cat, Janus took a deep breath and looked around.

Heras sat at the head of the table, her black curls falling loose over her crimson gown.

Dinu and Avalon sat to either side of her, far less impressive in mien.

Dishevelment clung to Dinu at all times; tonight, his coat was slightly crooked, and one side of his collar was flipped down.

Avalon dressed acceptably by Athelstani standards—her frilly collar and flower-patterned sleeves a sight to behold.

Across from Janus sat Chief Kahn and Chief Esseg. The green-tweed-wrapped Chief Esseg seemed pleasant, his face kindly and plump. Khan had a more intimidating air, a yellow kilt wrapped tightly below his barrel chest, his expression stern.

Finally, Prince Paulus sat at the table’s other end, a bored countenance idly observing the soup before him. He brushed back his neat, dark hair and glanced in Janus’s direction before returning to the food.

Though Janus had never been good at reading a room, the ambiance in this chamber was plain as day. Tension hung over every soul, and distrust permeated the air.

Avalon broke the silence first. “You look well despite everything. Such strength is a rarity.”

Realizing Avalon was talking to her, Janus sat upright with a start. “Th-thanks.”

“Truly.” Chief Kahn agreed, sitting forward. “To think such an operation was hidden beneath our notice, beneath our city.” He looked pointedly at Heras, who ignored his gaze.

Someone had mentioned Kahn and Heras arguing over her newfound secrecy. Janus wondered what the Royal Chief had to hide.

“And,” Paulus looked up, “They wore no markings, yes? They must be intent on hiding their true allegiance. Though I must say, they were fools. Anmarite has been left untouched for a reason.”

“I agree.” Dinu sat back, folding his hands in his lap. “Anmarite has one known property: its near invulnerability. To pour research—unethical research—into prestigious armor has but one motive.”

Felsin nodded, stirring his soup. “And who else should we point the finger at but Altanbern, considering where their base was located?”

Shuffling back in her seat, Janus gazed at Felsin curiously. He had exploded at Talon for daring to accuse his mother. Had he changed his mind?

No, he hadn’t. His gaze lingered on his brother.

Khan echoed the sentiment. “Who precisely are you blaming?”

“No one. But imagine how it must seem to everyone else.”

Brand sat forward. “That traitors hide amongst us? That the feuding of the clans has finally come to a head?”

Though reluctant, Kahn nodded in agreement after much tugging at his mustache. “We should call off the ball and send Lady Janus home to safety.”

“Call it off?” Avalon interjected, fork piercing her roast and clinking against the plate. “Call off the celebration of our alliance while it looks like we’re trying to kill one another?”

Janus listened to them argue, her mind drifting to her father. They had never been particularly close, but he would be overcome with fury to learn of what had happened to his daughter. He would be impossible to assuage, as would Evander.

Pushing her food around, Janus glanced at Heras. She needed to press the royal chief on her relationship with the copper-skinned evoker. The sole survivor from the ruins.

“Foreigners?” Dinu scoffed, though Janus had missed some of the conversation. “And are you suggesting the assassins worked for them, too?”

“Conceivably,” Heras said, politely taking a bite of her dinner. She appeared relaxed, guiltless.

“I doubt it.” Avalon shook her head. “One struck to kill, the other did not. They were separate groups.”

“They were not.” Heras corrected, eyes flashing to Janus. “The princess said their leader confessed to being the same.”

“He did,” Janus confirmed softly.

“What changed their damn minds, then?” Kahn leaned forward. “Perhaps someone keeping secrets might know.”

Heras stared icily at him.

“You failed to attend the last council meeting.” Kahn continued. “You’ve made several decisions without seeking our consent—including dismissing the first missing persons report without informing me.”

“Kahn,” Felsin articulated, voice lined with an edge. “The Gaevral clan knows her mind. If she was hiding something of significance, we would know, and someone would have shared.”

“So you say. But I’ve heard her memories seem. . .” Khan wavered. “Incomplete.”

Had Talon told him that? Or had rumors spread on their own?