Page 18 of Death of the Glass Angel
“There’s plenty of pillows on my bed, that’s for sure. I can lend you some, cozy up the -” Janus paused mid-sentence, her eyes glazing over as she stared at Talon.
Looking down at himself and back up at her, Talon followed her eyes to their target: his neck, where the hint of a nasty burn scar peeked out from beneath his shirt. Hastily pulling the collar up, he folded his arms tightly over his chest, intending to pretend she had not seen it.
But Janus remained frozen, horror replacing her hesitancy. Deep horror, as though flashes of war fled across her eyes. And then she changed.
Someone could have convinced Talon that a fell wind blew in from the window, spluttering the flames and darkening the lights. The air itself grew colder. Janus blinked rapidly and stood taller, her shoulders no longer slumped. Her eyes narrowed, and Talon swore her features sharpened, and her chin drew to a finer point.
Though the woman standing before him was unequivocally Janus, she could have passed for a different person altogether.
Evander had warned Talon this might happen. The prince had said Janus was, at times, different. He had advised Talon to take this in stride and speak no mention of it to the nervous bookworm of a princess whenever the girl called Janus again emerged.
Three weeks on the road, the Thuatian princess had been an anxious but bright-eyed girl. Now, Talon supposed he was about to meet her other half.
Her shadow.
6
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.”
