Page 57 of Death of the Glass Angel
No sooner had he left her side than a swarm of nobles descended upon her like hawks. She didn’t recognize a face among them.
“Heavens.” An older woman said. “You’re rather brave, showing up despite what happened.”
“Surely you must have some idea who sent them?” A man’s voice asked, but Janus’ gaze had dropped to the floor.
“Leave the lass alone.” A handsome red-haired cefra pushed through the crowd and stood in front of Janus. “Need an escape?” Brand whispered, driving her away from the swarm.
“Thank you,” Janus whispered back.
“Of course.” His eyebrows knit. “You seem different tonight.”
“I do?”
“And you never did give me a dance.” Leading her to the dance floor, Brand’s scarlet eyes flashed as he offered her a hand.
Janus tentatively accepted, though a faint voice at the back of her mind advised otherwise.
“I am sorry about what happened on the mountain,” Brand whispered as he laid a hand on her waist.
“It’s fine,” Janus said, staring at the floor. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“No, it wasn’t. It was yours.”
Confused, Janus looked up sharply. Brand spun her around, dizzying her before pulling her back to his side.
“Why didn’t you turn back after the first attempt on your life?”
“I. . .” Janus trailed off. Why had she demanded they keep going?
She had feared coming to this ball, but had she stayed home? Janus never would have left Piona’s walls again.
“It’s foolish.” Brand lowered his voice. “To willingly enter a den of wolves. If I were you, I’d go home.”
“No.” Janus blurted out, meeting his eyes. “I need to know what’s going on.”
Brand’s grip on her waist tightened. Janus couldn’t read his face at all. Did he hate her, or simply pity her?
“What would you know?” His voice hardened. Fingernails dug into her dress—into her hand. “You’ve locked yourself away, shut out the world. You know nothing of your people—what they desire, what they need, and least of all, what’s coming for them.”
Janus hung on his last words. “What would be coming for them?”
“Do you truly not know?”
Digging through her mind, Janus searched for any clue as to what he meant. “Why are you acting like this?” She blurted out instead. “Did I do something to offend you?”
“Does it delight you to be ignorant and inept?” Brand hissed. “Stay here—wait for the knife in the dark to find you. Isn’t that what murderers deserve?” He spun her, releasing her at its climax.
Janus tripped as she backed away from him, paling.
Murderer?
Did he know?
Throat tightening, Janus’ vision blurred as she stumbled into the crowd, pushing past voices and faces she couldn’t see. A black mass appeared before her. Turning to avoid it, Janus felt someone grab her arms.
“Fleeing the dance floor?” Felsin’s voice penetrated the fog. “I would too, had I been forced to dance with Brand.”
Relieved, Janus looked up into his warm, golden eyes.
