Page 19 of Death of the Glass Angel
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,theirsecret. Perhaps she would tell Gemthe truth one day.
7
Talon
Dragosi heirs have a penchant for depravity. Maybe that’s why I like them. I see so much of myself in the prince, but in my time I was lauded. Everyone makes assumptions. But nobody knows the truth.
-Private letter from Professor Aevus to Gemellus Instigo
She knows.
She knows.
She knows!The voices taunted, one after the other.
“She doesn’t.” Talon hissed. He bit his tongue when he accidentally spoke aloud.
Talon leaned on the armrest, fidgeting with his coat as a burning sensation grew beneath his collar and flared down his back. He wanted to rip his clothes off and scratch the scar until it bled, but shoved the irritation down and ignored it.
After Janus’ demeanor and expression had inexplicably shifted, she had excused herself and slipped into the washroom, claiming she wished to change before they departed.
Before the washroom door slammed behind her, Janus had peered at Talon with searching eyes, like torches sweeping the dark. Master Lark would chew Talon a new one if one of the Thruinc alliance’s royalty uncovered his identity.
The sound of clicking heels echoed through the main room as Janus returned from her room.
By the heavenly rays, she was unrecognizable. A black kurta with a deep-cut neck hugged her figure, tied off with a silver sash. Thoughusually bound into a tight ponytail, Janus’s dark hair tumbled around her shoulders and fell to her mid-back in well-groomed waves. Dark makeup smudged her eyes, painted with an expert hand.
