Page 61 of Death of the Glass Angel (Apotheosis #1)

Janus

Let those who die

Live forevermore

Janus presumed she was dead, though she’d expected death to hurt. Instead, it was somewhat wet, a little warm, and suffocating.

Opening her eyes, she saw rock and water, a drenched fur cloak, and golden eyes.

“Are you alright?” Felsin asked.

Stunned, Janus looked around. The two of them were shoved into a tiny spot of water, surrounded by jagged chunks of rock. Felsin wrapped her in a tight embrace, shielding her.

Gods, what a sight. Her sinkhole was filled with debris, piling high with water spilled across every surface. The night sky peered down on them, and half the walls had fallen. Collapsed private boxes hung limp from their frames or crashed into the ground.

Janus tried to speak, but her vision swam, and her memory faltered.

“We need to get out of here.” Felsin released Janus and climbed atop a submerged boulder. Balancing on its slick surface, he pulled her out of the drink.

“Janus!” Gemellus’ voice cut through the haze. He dropped beside her. “Are you alright?”

“You,” she breathed, “Were supposed to protect me.”

His mouth warbled into a smile. Gathering her into his arms, he gently lifted her. Grateful for his presence, Janus closed her eyes and leaned her head against him, allowing the darkness to claim her.

The memory of Eros lingered in her mind.

It had been cruel to let her see him again.

* * *

Destruction, flames, and blood. Janus sat amidst a throng of panicked, wounded people. Guards rushed past in droves, returning to the theater. Shortly after Gemellus had dragged Janus outside, the fire consuming the building had died, but the crumbled ruins remained.

A once magnificent building, reduced to a broken shell.

Was this the same magic that had destroyed the ruins? Would the opera house be restored, come the morning?

So much was yet unknown. Janus had studied at Valeria for years, only to learn she knew nothing at all.

Gemellus’s face appeared in Janus’s blurry vision. “Keep still,” he ordered.

Janus winced as sharp pain stabbed through her skull. Lying still against Gemellus’ arm, she surveyed their bleak surroundings.

So many were wounded. Janus did not want to think about how many were buried in the rubble. She had glimpsed a few broken bodies and burnt corpses during their escape.

Gemellus pressed torn cloth to her gash. “That sinkhole was brilliant. To react so quickly when you had but a second before death.”

“Oh,” Janus mumbled. “I didn’t. . . did I hurt anyone?”

“I don’t think so. But you saved your life and Felsin’s,” Gemellus said. “I’m proud of you.”

Proud? Maybe it was selfish to smile amidst the tragedy.

Felsin knelt beside her, wet hair clinging to his face. “Is she going to be okay?”

“She’ll be fine, if concussed,” Gemellus assured him. “I’m getting her to a doctor, and then we’re leaving this godsforsaken city.”

“But-” Janus protested weakly. Felsin wrapped his arms around her, silencing the rest.

The fuzzy pain in Janus’s head dulled, pressed to his warm, damp chest. Normally, the touch of a man’s muscles and their clear outline through wet cloth would occupy most of Janus’ thoughts.

And it certainly occupied a small corner. But the majority of Janus’ mind filled with a rush of blissful calm—as though the pain of yesterday would fade if only she could remain in his arms long enough.

She wished they’d had more time together. Maybe Janus could have slowly become the woman he deserved.

Felsin grabbed her shoulders tightly, pushing her back to look her in the eye. “Stay with Gem, Janus,” He ordered. “I need to find my family.” Turning away, he left her behind.

“Wait!” Janus broke from Gemellus and followed him. She heard her mentor curse, but he did not stop her.

Felsin pushed through the crowd, searching for familiar faces. He halted in the center of the courtyard. “Mother!” He called, running forward.

An Esseg healer in green tweed sat beside Heras, attending to a bloody wound in her chest, just above her heart. The red fabric of her gown rose and fell as she breathed heavily.

Janus’ gaze drifted from Heras to her son. Brand, his tunic torn and singed, stood guard over an unconscious Talon, a bloody welt torn across his forehead.

Felsin tore away from his mother. “Brand. What are you doing?”

“This one tried to kill us.” Brand snarled.

“Talon would not have attacked without good cause.”

“And what, brother, do you consider good cause?”

Janus tried to go to them, but Gemellus pulled her back.

“Let Felsin handle it.” He whispered into her ear. “The last thing you need now is to make a scene.”

“Why?” Janus spat childishly, struggling to escape. “What if they hurt him?”

“Why?” Gemellus hissed. “Because someone just destroyed the theater housing every noble lord from the visiting alliance. He declared war on them, proved their weakness, and fled before they knew if they should blame one another or an outside force.”

His words sank in, and Janus ceased writhing. Heras was gravely injured. Fire had consumed the theater, while Heras was a mere earthborn, capable of shaping dirt and stone singularly. She could not have been to blame for this.

“Nobody at Valeria ever believed Alfaris,” Gemellus whispered. “It was his greatest strength. He could walk beneath all the world’s notice.”

“But. . . why would he do this?”

“To tear the alliance apart.”

“Was all this a last-minute effort?” Janus panted. “Was my death supposed to start it?”

“Maybe.” Gemellus mused. “Fate is not a script, as Alfaris so loves to tell me.”

Before Janus could ask what he meant, Avalon ran to her side, armor dented in a few places and surcoat singed. She pushed her bangs from her eyes. “Janus. Thank the goddess.” She looked up at Gemellus. “What. . . what happened?”

“We were attacked,” Gemellus answered plainly. “By someone with power, the alliance lacks.

“I can’t believe we wasted so much time chasing Heras.” Avalon looked over at the injured High Chief. “The real instigator slipped all our notice.” She pressed a hand to her head. “I’m going to help look for survivors.”

“Be careful.” Janus pleaded as she walked away.

Tightening his grip on her arm, Gemellus tilted his head to look at her. “What happened? When you vanished.”

“I fell into a memory. We both did.” Janus closed her eyes, trying to explain. “I saw that old tower in Thuatia, the one you took Eros and me to see.” She swallowed. “It was so real. I could feel Eros, touch him.”

“Ah. . . “Gemellus breathed in understanding.

“Did. . . did I create that place? Was I the one who trapped us there?”

“I. . .” He hesitated. “Strange, isn’t it? I didn’t expect it either.”

He avoided the question, answering one she had not asked instead. His grip on her relaxed, and Janus slipped free. Cradling her head, she limped toward Felsin.

He and his brother stood tensely opposite each other, hands clenched at their sides. Felsin interrupted whatever Brand had been saying. “Enough. Tell me the truth or I’ll force it out of you.”

“Are you threatening me?” Brand’s eyes flashed.

A sheet of stone jutted from the courtyard and slammed into Brand’s gut, throwing him onto his back. Felsin kneeled atop his brother. “Yes. Talk.”

Brand coughed. “I told you the truth. I protected Altanbern’s future. Its savior. And my place atop its throne.”

Two Gaevral soldiers rushed from Heras’s side and grabbed Felsin, pulling him off his brother. Esseg ran between them, offering Brand a hand up. Squeezing between them, Janus darted to Talon’s side and dropped to her knees, pressing a hand to his neck.

A pulse beat faintly, and his chest rose and fell. He was still alive.

“Little lass.” Esseg approached, round face pulled into a frown. “Step away.”

“No.” Janus’s voice was cracked and hoarse.

Esseg stared at her somberly, backing away to give her space. Someone approached her, and the world spun as Janus tried to look up at them.

“-Altanese law demands death.” She heard Brand say when she came to.

“Are you an idiot?” Gemellus spat. “You’d kill him without questioning him?”

“You saw what happened in there! Who knows what he’s capable of.”

Gritting her teeth, Janus wrapped her fingers around Talon’s wrist, refusing to let go. Gemellus stood a pace from Brand, arguing with him. Felsin watched them, golden eyes drifting to Janus.

“You have no say here, evoker.” Brand shoved past Gemellus.

Dinu pushed through the crowd, amber eyes sweeping the scene before widening. He darted between Brand and Janus. “Whoa. Why are we still killing each other?”

“Move.” Brand ordered. “That one tried to kill us. He’s working for the ones responsible.”

“Yeah? And who the hell’s that?”

Paulus was a step behind Dinu. A nasty gash cut from his cheek to his neck. “Castelmar, allegedly, but last I checked, evokers could not pull off such feats alone.” He glared at Heras, noticing her wound. “Something’s unraveling beneath our feet, and we’ve all been played for fools.”

“On that we can agree.” Brand tilted his head. “Move, Dobrescu.”

Dinu glanced back at Janus. “Not until I hear his side of the story.”

“I concur.” Paulus spat at Brand. “We have no reason to trust you lot these days.”

Janus raised her head, noticing Chief Kahn for the first time. He lingered behind Heras, uncertainty torn across his face. Though the motions seemed to pain him, he stepped forward. “Stand aside. The Altanese do not bend on our laws—assassins are to be made an example of.”

“Why are you in such a rush? He’s not going anywhere.”

Janus clutched Talons’ wrist tightly, watching Altanese guards close in around her, one gauntlet-bound hand reaching for her arm.

“Enough,” Felsin yelled. “I invoke the right of exile.”

“What?” Brand broke away from Gemellus. “Are you mad?”

Heras stood, clutching her wounded chest. “Silence, Brand.” She turned to Felsin. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Felsin said calmly.

Pushing Brand out of his way, Gemellus grabbed Janus, pulling her away from the opera house despite her faint protests. “Relax.” He said, wrapping an arm around her.

“No. I can’t leave Talon. Not the way I left Eros.”

“Janus. . .” Gemellus stopped, taking her by the shoulders. “Felsin has it handled. Talon will be fine. I promise.”

“What. . . what did Felsin mean?”

“The right of exile is an ancient tradition,” Gemellus said quickly. “Life for life, memory for trust, one place for another.” He glanced back. “Talon will be absolved of sin, and Felsin will be exiled in his place.”