Page 148 of Death of the Glass Angel
“Good.” Felsin stepped past him, looking up at the night sky. “One final dance. And then, fittingly, the grand finale at the opera house. Yet I see nothing in the stars.”
“And here I thought you were a fortune teller.”
“Evokers pull from their perfect memories, right?” Felsin stared intently at Talon. “Shouldn’t it be obvious how one glimpses fate, then?”
“By having no memories?”
“Closest thing to,” Felsin confirmed. “You let the past go. You let the path behind crumble, never glancing back.”
“But now you’re thinking about. . .”
His father.
“Yes,” Felsin said somberly. “Be careful, Talon. Who can say what awaits?”
Nodding, Talon pulled open the door and stepped inside, hurrying through the palace halls as he pulled his coat on, covering theanmarite arm.
37
Janus/Des
I think about it often. The life you and I might have led.
I shouldn’t.
-Letter from Gemellus Instigo to Lady Entia
Janus sat on the bed, thumbing through her book. Sighing, she turned another page before flipping the book closed and tossing it into the ‘finished’ pile. Grabbing another book from her unread pile, she took a moment to face-plant on the sheets.
Everything hurt. Her head, especially. Thinking hurt.
The door to the suite flew open, and Gemellus whirled inside, gracefully closing the door behind him before sauntering to the table and pulling out a chair, leaning on its back as he faced Janus. He held up a parcel stuffed with letters.
“Good news?” Janus inquired hopefully.
“Useless news,” Gemellus corrected. He shook the parcel. “Can you believe an idiot captain gave me this and told me to read it? To my face?” He made a sound of disgust and tossed Janus the collection of parchment.
Sitting up, Janus unrolled the scroll and scanned its content. The dead from the compound had been collected, but most bodies had been so terribly crushed they could not be identified.
The account reported the ruins intact, littered with dead, some identified as the missing stormborn men. The second report noted all but the captured assassin from the tomb had fled.
The doorknob jimmied as someone unlocked it, and Talon stepped into the room, moving at a sluggish pace. Surprised at Gemellus’s presence, he scooted around him to approach Janus.
Gemellus’ face wrinkled in concentration. “Light, cautious. Talon, I presume? You’re favoring your right side.”
“You can tell all that from footsteps?” Talon mumbled as he swept aside Janus’s books to sit.
Returning the letters to their parcel, Janus wearily brushed back her messy hair. “How’s it going?”
“It’s done,” Talon said, pulling off his coat.
Rolling up his sleeve, Talon displayed the fruits of his labors: anmarite seamlessly grafted to his arm, forming a smooth line with his skin. Sitting beside him, Janus ran a hand along the forearm, feeling the warm skin turn to cool metal.
Gemellus bolted upright from his lax position. “What’s done?”
Smiling, Janus knocked on the anmarite, though it did not reverberate how she hoped, instead dully thudding. “I’ve got to say.” She admitted. “I wasn’t sure it was going to work.”
“What?” Gemellus repeated.
