Page 143 of Death of the Glass Angel
The Royal Chief never seemed like a bad person. Or maybe she was adept at hiding it.
“Can I ask you something?” Janus glanced over the camp. “Why was Kahn so insistent, and why do you and Felsin seem so strained?”
“That’s a rather personal question,” Heras said. “But I suppose he’s told you. The two of you have been spending a lot of time together.” She sighed. “They both feel the same. They take too much stock in the dead and refuse to think about how it’s held us back.”
“Felsin does value the ancestors highly. But I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.”
“There is,” Heras said sharply. “Look around. When we divided the clans, we drove a wedge between us, but we can’t do a damn thing without agreeing. We’ve fallen behind; no other nation in the alliance still has its people living in mud huts.”
Janus fell silent. She didn’t know much about politics.
“We need a strong ruler for what’s to come.” Heras swept a hand across the camp. “Not this.”
“. . .what’s to come?”
Heras stared into the fire. “If you knew calamity approached, and you could save your people alone. . . would you?”
“I. . . I suppose I would. But what could call for such extremes?”
“Nothing.” Heras looked up, smiling. “I’m merely talking in hypotheticals. The crown should always be prepared to protect its people. And as we are, we cannot. That’s all.”
“Right, I. . .”Janus swallowed. “I should. . . Thank you for talking with me.” Bowing her head, Janus quickly turned around and hurried to her camp.
She caught a spot of fire, where Brand watched her across the camp, silently glaring. ‘Least of all what’s coming for them. Do you truly not know?’
Alfaris’ fortune had written death and flames upon the stars. And Gemellus said those fortunes always came true.
Kalid stood by her tent, watching her with concerned eyes. He gripped his glaive tightly, silently nodding as Janus slipped inside. Gathering her hair into a bun, Janus face-planted onto her bedroll, pulling Des the dragon from her bag and cuddling it under the blankets.
Had Janus slept since leaving home? Wide-awake, she tossed and turned until finally her errant thoughts settled and she managed to get comfortable.
Kalid’s voice roused her—he spoke softly to someone outside. Gemellus, or Talon, maybe? Eventually, Kalid allowed them to enter, and they knelt beside her, letting out a soft sigh that revealed their identity.
That had been Felsin’s voice. Frozen, Janus’ eyes sprang open. He was no doubt furious with her. What was he doing here?
“See?” Talon’s voice surprised Janus. “She’s fine.”
“Sh.” Felsin hissed.
“She’s out like a rock. I slipped something into her tea.”
“. . .why?”
“The girl hasn’t slept in days. She needs rest.”
“Drugging a princess, now?” Felsin tutted. “Are you trying to get executed, Talon?”
“Oh, whatever. Sleep will speed her healing.”
Whatever Talon had slipped into Janus’ tea clearly hadn’t worked. Or, more likely, Gemellus had noticed and given her a fresh cup. Janus wasn’t sure if she was thankful or sore about that.
“She’s not used to being wounded, and. . .” Felsin continued, speaking much quieter than Talon. “Gemellus told me what she saw in the tomb.”
“He doesn’t talk to me. . .” Talon murmured.
“You’re not as likable as I am,” Felsin said smugly. Talon made a sound of annoyance. “Drugged or not, Janus doesn’t like to be alone. I just want to sit with her for a bit.”
“. . . alright. You’re lucky Kalid likes me.”
