Page 97 of Death of the Glass Angel
Janus
Nine years ago. . .
Janus spun before the mirror, watching her dress swirl around her ankles. The delicate white silk gown was the finest garment she had ever donned. Father had outdone himself this time.
The older woman dressing Janus grabbed her shoulders and straightened her out to finish pinning her hair into a patterned orange scarf.
Standing stiffly, Janus murmured an apology. “Sorry, Raja.”
“Hm.” The stern-faced maid stepped back. “Done. Off you go.”
Nodding at her elderly maid, Janus skipped through her door into the hall, where her brother awaited her.
Evander always looked nice, but especially so tonight. A hint of orange decorated his deep blue finery, matching him to his sister. He offered her an arm, and Janus gladly took it.
“Ready?” Evander asked.
“No,” Janus answered, and her brother chuckled.
Janus’s favorite spot was the grand ballroom on the palace’s first floor. Spacious and echoey, your voice sounded dramatic and important when you yelled inside of it. Father disapproved, of course.
Tonight, the halls were packed with people, decorations, and tables. Golden-orange tablecloths draped onto the floor, set with bright white flowers. Matching lanterns strung on streamers, painting a happy, joyful glow. It was Eros’ eighth birthday, and Father had thought it a worthy excuse to throw a ball.
Janus bumped into Evander several times as he led her into the room. So many people surrounded them. Nobles in gaudy silks and embroidered dresses, their patterns and bright colors nauseating.Others, in simple, understated garb, wore hawkish looks in their eyes, and Janus felt as though they peered into her soul, judging her being.
As Janus’s eyes swept the hall, she first found Father. The tall man towered above those surrounding him, his tawny skin wrinkled with a permanent smile. A few paces away, a man in a black suit with a floral-patterned vest twirled a strand of hair idly as a wiry woman with a sharp nose prattled on. Gemellus, an old friend of Father’s. Soon to be her mentor at Valeria.
Next, Janus spotted Eros, a few feet from his ever-regal mother. The kid had a glowing smile plastered to his face that could have melted the iciest heart, and for once, his brown curls were neatly brushed and tucked into a circlet. An overly decorative doublet with a high-collared shoulder cape painted a melodramatic picture of what was, in truth, a silly little boy.
Evander pressed a hand to his mouth to hide a laugh. “Isn’t he kingly tonight?”
As if he had overheard Evander’s comment, Eros’ attention snapped onto his siblings, and he fled his mother’s watch, cape flapping behind him. His bright pink eyes inspected Janus in disbelief.
“Whoa. You almost look like a girl tonight.”
Janus’s mouth twisted into a grimace. “At least I don’t look ridiculously over-decorated.”
“You’re just jealous. I look stunning.” Eros spun, dizzying himself before his gaze steadied on Evander. “Do you think you could convince Mom to let me have some of that punch Gem is guzzling?”
Evander furrowed his brow and looked over at the Sigillite, where he leaned on the refreshments table, a newly filled glass of alcoholic punch in hand. He slurped it down almost desperately as the wiry woman beside him clapped her hands excitedly, beginning a new conversation.
“No.” Evander turned back to Eros. “I don’t think I could.”
“Aw. Looks good, whatever it is. Smells funny, too.” Eros paused, eyes darting around like a dog smelling food. “See you later.”
He turned to run off, and Janus grabbed his arm. “Do I get a dance?”
“With you? Ew, no.” Eros wrinkled his nose, escaped Janus’s grasp, and ran off.
Evander watched Janus’s face sink. “Don’t worry. I give it half an hour before he’s begging you to dance.” Evander paused, then pushed Janus forward. “Go. Mingle.”
“I don’t want to.”
“It’s good for you.”
“But-”
“It’s good for you,” Evander repeated with a smile before he stalked off, merging with the crowd.
