Page 38 of Death of the Glass Angel (Apotheosis #1)

Heras glared at Kahn. “You—you think I sent assassins to kill my own son? You think I managed it without my people knowing? I may not be the warmest person in this frigid country, but I’m insulted to know you think so lowly of me.”

“I never said he wasn’t working with you.” Khan spat.

“And what is it you think I hope to achieve?”

“What else than make official what you’re already doing?” Khan accused. “To become Altanbern’s sole queen.”

“And what of you?” Heras accused. “The assassins were dressed in your colors. They even attacked on your land. Why is that, I wonder?”

“What cause would I have to hurt the lass?”

Chief Esseg raised his hands, calling for silence. “Peace, kin. If you intend to accuse the Royal Chief, Khan, there is a very simple way to go about it.”

“Aye.” Khan sat back, satisfied. “May the ancestors reveal the harpy’s unspoken truth.”

Heras’s jaw set rigidly before her face softened. “Very well. I agree.”

“Agree to what?” Dinu asked, confused.

“Ah.” Paulus leaned forward, hands folded on the table. “A trial by the ancestor’s? How much weight should that hold for the rest of us?”

“This is a dispute amongst our people. Not yours.” Khan answered.

Janus spoke up, though she shrank at the sound of her voice echoing in this hostile space. “What does that mean?”

To her surprise, it was Heras who answered. “The ancestors lay at rest in the Forebear’s Monolith. When accused of a crime, the accuser and accused stand before their tombs and ask them to judge.”

“And they answer?”

“They do,” Heras confirmed.

Hoping to disappear into the folds of the chair’s upholstery, Janus heard the people around her dampen, as though far away, hidden beneath a layer of water. A trial by the ancestors to be accused of guilt? And such certainty they had in its validity.

What if Eros showed up? What if he pointed blame at Janus? Her guilt, plainly revealed to all in the Thruinc alliance.

To learn his spirit lived on in torment and spite. . . nothing frightened Janus more.

“Fine.” Avalon glanced around the table. “But we must be allowed to accompany, to oversee this trial.”

Chief Esseg, his fork frozen in his potatoes, nodded. “All are welcome to observe. The Forebears’ monolith lays bare the soul upon death.”

“This should be interesting.” Paulus returned to his dinner. “I’m eager to hear what your spirits say about the matter.”

Avalon looked to Janus, awaiting her answer. She nodded rigidly, throat closing as it became harder and harder to breathe. Janus wanted to get up and flee, but she was frozen to the spot. Panic consumed her, coating her palms in sweat.

A door slammed open and footsteps clicked across the floor. A smudge of black flew past Janus’ vision as something was tossed onto the table.

A black handkerchief, edges trimmed with golden vines, landed on the table soundlessly. “Sorry to interrupt.” A rich voice, laced with a Sigillite accent, announced. “But I need a moment of the princess’s time.”

Gemellus stood behind the table, dressed in his finest. His blonde waves fell neatly around an open collar, tucked beneath a silken black coat.

Janus closed her eyes in relief. She had never been so glad to see someone in all her life. Slipping into herself, she longed for someone to take the reins, to wrench away the pain.

And they answered.

* * *

Des leaned her head against the wall. Gemellus’ rescue had not been enough to calm Janus’ panic. The girl had withered, the way she always did when she remembered Eros’ death.

From the quiet hall, Des could hear hints of the conversation continuing in the other room. They were still arguing.

“My letter was explicitly clear.” Gemellus placed a hand on his hip. “Stay in your room.”

There was no point in protesting. Des looked down.

“At least all those nights you spent fiddling with my lock paid off.” He chuckled. “Even if you never did break into the vault.”

Des winced. Half her fourth year at Valeria had been spent in isolation for that stunt.

Gemellus leaned down, voice softening. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine,” Des said. “What I need is to go home, and, and think.”

“Let me talk with your hosts. Take a breather.” He encouraged. “I’ll come get you if you’re needed.”

“Thank you.” Des breathed, sinking onto the bench.

“Of course, dear.” Gem smiled and returned to the dining hall.

Running her hands over her face, Des tried to relax. This was supposed to have been a fun trip. How had everything gone so wrong?

Des’ ears perked up, listening to quick footfalls down the hall. A blonde Athelstani woman in a dreadful flower-printed blouse approached and kneeled beside her.

“Are you alright?” Avalon asked with unexpected gentleness.

“I’m fine,” Des answered. “I will be, at least.”

“It’s alright. Take your time.” Avalon glanced over her shoulder. “That was an old trick he pulled. Dinu likes to abuse it, though he never has good cause.”

“You’re far too hard on him.”

“If I’m not, who will put him in his place?” Avalon chuckled. “It’s good-natured. Perhaps I lay it on too thick.” She frowned, glancing over her shoulder nervously again. “Is there someone at that table you’re afraid of?”

“I’m not sure,” Des admitted. “Heras worries me the most, but would she really kill her own son?”

“Do you agree with Kahn?’

“I do,” Des confessed. “He has reason to mistrust her. Or maybe he’s responsible. If we have no leads, why not indulge their spirit trial?”

“Hm.” Avalon pursed her lips. “I don’t know if I believe it myself. We’ll be there, as will all our guards. It will be safe. But if you don’t wish to accompany-”

“I’m coming,” Des affirmed.

“Very well. I suppose there’s not much more we can do until then.”

“I’d say there is.” Dinu’s voice emerged behind Avalon.

“See?” Avalon gestured to the messy-haired man. “Every dinner, he uses the-”

“I didn’t use the handkerchief if that’s what you’re implying.” Dinu raked a hand through his shoulder-length hair, straightening it. “We’re taking an interlude. But, I’ll admit, I cannot believe you willingly left dinner.”

“Do yourself a favor,” Avalon warned, “And stop that line of thinking before it begins.”

“Testy.” Dinu smiled at Des. “I had a thought. Your report says an evoker read your memories. That sort of magic is difficult, and the only documentation on the method is hidden in Valeria.”

“He was from Valeria,” Des said. “Felsin has seen him around the palace.”

“Has he?” Dinu stroked his beard. “I wonder. Could he have used the same technique to wipe memories from the maevruthan?”

Des sat straight. “To hide Heras’ incriminating actions? Is that possible?”

“In theory. Though I imagine it would be taxing.”

Avalon folded her arms. “So we need to find this mystery evoker.”

“Well if he worked here, that should be a simple matter.” Dinu fussed with the handkerchief tucked into his coat pocket. “Heras seemed confident about this trial, though. I wonder why.”

“Maybe we’re all wrong,” Des said. “For that matter, how am I supposed to know I can trust you?”

“You can’t.” Dinu shrugged.

Avalon exhaled annoyedly. “You understand just how to comfort someone, oaf.” She laid a hand on Des’ shoulder. “Would you prefer to be alone, or would you rather we stay with you for a bit?”

“I wouldn’t mind the company,” Des admitted.

“Fair warning—we’re not particularly good company,” Dinu said, pulling a flask from his coat. “Now, my mother—there’s a conversationalist. She changed her mind five times on whether she should attend, all worried I’d offend someone.”

“Have you?” Avalon asked.

“I don’t think so.” Dinu took a drink, the flask pausing at his lips. “At least, not yet.”

“Keep it that way.” Avalon peered down the hall at the dining room door. “We have five minutes or so until we reconvene. Time enough for me to get to know you a bit better. If you’re feeling up to it.”

“I can answer a few questions.” Des leaned against the wall, mind already racing.

She and Gemellus had much to discuss.