Page 73 of Death of the Glass Angel
“No-”
Janus’s response was cut short. The cefran man was upon her, grabbing her wrist and twisting it behind her back. Within a heartbeat, he had her pinned to the wall, at his mercy.
If he meant to frighten her, it failed. The opposite flourished in her heart. Heat rushed through her cheeks when she noticed how close they were, and how tightly he held her.
“You’re dead,” Felsin said casually, dropping her wrist.
Disappointed, Janus rolled up her sleeves and pulled off her cloak. “Alright. Let’s try again.”
“In a real battle, you only have a breath to defend yourself.” He said, pacing around her. “But you’ve learned that already.”
Janus recalled Talon appearing at her side, drenched by the rain, a dagger in hand. He’d learned this lesson, and he was only a merchant. She could do this.
Just when Janus thought Felsin wasn’t going to attack, he lunged. A thousand memories flashed past Janus’ mind in her panic, and she failed to grasp any of them. An axe crafted from stone appeared at her throat as she was pinned to the wall again.
“Dead,” Felsin announced. “Though, you looked like you were trying. . . something.”
“I never realized how hard it was to find a specific memory under duress.”
“Talon said you made a carriage the first time. It’s not. . . conventional, but it worked.” He lowered his axe, and it crumbled into dust. “Use whatever comes to mind. It doesn’t have to be a weapon.”
Whatever came to mind? Stuffed dates arrived first, detestable nuggets of sorrow Thuatians adored for some reason.
Chains that held up a great stone bridge leading over the Valerian Lake followed. The result was somewhat muddled.
Felsin gasped in surprise as shackles bolted around his wrists, dragging him onto his back, and chaining him to the courtyard floor. A plate of stuffed dates appeared beside him. His brows furrowed when he noticed them.
“Huh.” Janus chuckled, concentrating on her spells.
“I was teaching you to defend, but I guess this works too.” Felsin stared at the dates. “Ah, but what-”
“They came to mind.”
Janus stepped over him, intending to lean down and unlock the chains. She kneeled at his side, distracted by his golden eyes. Without a pupil, they were like a sea of molten gold, unreadable and unreachable. Endless.
“Janus,” Felsin said softly. “It’s a spell. Can’t you just. . . dismiss it?”
“Oh. I guess.”
“Or do you not want to?”
The question took her off guard, and a booming, amused voice filled the ensuing silence.
“What’s going on here?” Brand strode into the courtyard.
Janus fell backward onto her ass, losing concentration on her spell. Felsin bolted to his feet, standing in front of her protectively.
The plate of dates lingered.
Janus swallowed, looking up at Brand, Felsin’s red-headed brother. A wicked sneer crossed his face, a mix of emotions. “Getting close with the little shut-in, are we?”
Felsin brushed himself off. “Would it kill you to enter a room quietly for once?”
Brand’s mouth fell into a line. “I hear our assassin was killed and dumped. Whoever wants your head is resourceful—and hard to find.”
“Assassins you led to us.”
“I was given an escort. Do you interrogate your men on every outing?” Brand stepped around Felsin, staring at Janus. “I’ve heard you had high marks at Valeria. Is that really all you can manage?”
