Page 6 of Death of the Glass Angel (Apotheosis #1)

The Shadow

Six years ago. . .

Janus. That was her name. So why did it feel like it belonged to someone else?

Leaning on the pillar, Janus watched the other kids from the shadows. Wine-colored robes fluttered about their feet as they ran around the courtyard, some tripping on the trailing fabric. Occasionally, fingers would glow as one got off a spell.

A twig appeared with a burst of light and swept over a boy’s feet, tripping him up. Janus imagined the caster meant to summon a great tree limb. Oh well. Only so much could be expected of twelve-year-old evokers.

Stories below, Lake Valeria lapped against the shores of the tower, locking its students inside its halls.

“You don’t want to join them?”

Startled, Janus whirled around. A man emerged from the shadows beside her, a thick tome clutched under his arm. He tucked a handkerchief into his silver vest and brushed blonde curls behind his ear.

Though a blindfold covered his eyes, Janus swore Professor Gemellus was always watching her.

“It’s childish,” Janus said. “Not to mention dangerous. I don’t want to be nearby when someone gets hurt.”

“They’re being supervised.” Gem nodded to the other teacher, overseeing the kids.

A thick brute of a man. Professor Aevus seemed ill fit for his job, in Janus’s opinion. Evokers were meant to be intelligent, not simple.

“Maybe I’d have faith if it were you,” Janus said. “I would rather spend this time catching up on my studies.”

“I don’t see any books on you.”

“I’m already finished.”

“If I didn’t know any better.” Gemellus said, stepping off the ledge leading inside to stand beside her. “I’d say you’re trying to be my star pupil.”

“Is it working?” Janus smirked.

“You’re lacking in a few areas.” He watched a kid flail his hand, trying and failing to start a spell. “For one, you’re often late to class. For another, you often turn in your papers half torn or chewed.”

“That’s no-” Janus began to say.

Not me.

“Other times, you’re the first to show up. And sometimes, you look like you’ve forgotten you even have hair that needs washing.” Gemellus passed his tome from one arm to the other. He tilted his head. “Janus.”

She tried not to frown, but it slipped out. “Yes?”

“You don’t like it when they call you that, do you?”

“. . .no.”

“Hm.” Gemellus shoved his book into her arms.

Stumbling under its surprising weight, Janus almost fell over. Hefting the tome up, she ran a hand along the unfamiliar language and flipped the cover open. She recognized the letters written in neat ink, but couldn’t read them.

“Professor, this is cefran.”

“Yes. It’s a collection of all known catalysts their prominent mages have used.”

Confused, Janus wrinkled her eyebrows and gave him a look.

A look he couldn’t see. Right.

“A good mage learns more than their own magic.” Gemellus nodded at the tome. “Since you’re ahead, start on next year’s lesson.”

Next year? He was flattering her. And the smile tearing across her face proved it had worked.

“So,” Gemellus said, “What would you like to go by?”

What did she want to go by? If Janus did not feel right. . .

Slamming the book closed, she looked up at her tutor. “I’d like to go by Des.”

“Des.” He repeated. “Very well. When it’s just the two of us, I’ll be sure to call you that.” He tilted his head. “Though, I’m curious. Why Des?”

There was a reason. One she didn’t want to share.

It was her. . .no, their secret. Perhaps she would tell Gem the truth one day.