Page 142 of Death of the Glass Angel
“Don’t strain yourself.”
“Ah!” Janus lunged toward Gem, and he reared back. “It did! In the tomb! This hummed, and I saw a memory of Alfaris.”
“You peered into another’s mind?” Gemellus asked softly. “Without meaning to?”
“I. . .I must have.”
Gemellus placed the glass angel in her hands. “Keep careful watch over this. Such a skill is useful but dangerous. And forbidden.”
“I know.” Janus swirled her tea, watching the leaves catch the light of the fire. “I think it’s about time you told me about you and Alfaris.”
Sighing, Gemellus back bent and he slid down to sit beside her. “I don’t like thinking about my past.”
“Neither do I. But we’re evokers. It’s kinda funny, when you look at it like that.”
“Yes, it’s hilarious,” Gemellus said dryly. “Alfaris was a kid when we met. Fifteen, I think. He’d been cast out by his family and left for dead.”
“Why?” Janus shifted closer.
“Because he was. . . different. You cannot see it from a glance, but he was born with a disability. It shamed his family, so they got rid of him.”
“And you took him in?”
“I suppose.” Gemellus reached out, as if to catch the embers. “I trained him. Gave him work. I was hardly kind. Aevus was always nicer. Treated him more like a son.”
“Professor Aevus?” Janus asked. “I knew you were friends, but I didn’t realize for so long.”
“For ages, Janus.” Gemellus smiled faintly. Wistfully. “But where were we? Alfaris is not what he seems. He values one thing and one thing alone: the chance for tomorrow to change.”
Janus stared at the stars, trying to understand. “And the cards?”
“As an evoker needs memories, so too does Alfaris need his precious little cards.” Gemellus chuckled, standing. “But enough. You should get some rest.”
Janus didn’t want to be left alone, but she solemnly nodded and stared into her tea.
A shadow passed over her as Gemellus kneeled, taking her hand. “If you need anything, dear, I am here for you.”
“I know.”
Smiling, Gemellus stood. Offering a small bow laced with sarcasm, he sauntered into the night, Sors padding after him.
Janus slumped, letting the steam from the tea waft over her face. She managed to relax for five seconds before she sat upright and raked her fingers through her hair, pulling loose the amethyst pin Gemellus had given her.
A glass angel. Janus ran her thumb over the sculpted flower. This hairpiece had been gifted by someone Gem cared about. She knew so little about her mentor.
Despite the situation, Janus’ spirits rose. Other than architectural and history tomes, Janus had often read stories of mystery and intrigue. The best tales kept her guessing until the end.
In a way, this sprawling web of confusion was kind of like those engrossing books. This was almost fun.
Sighing, Janus watched her mentor’s departing shadow, marveling at how it appeared almost like the magnificent bulk of a dragon, its wings extending from the flames into shadow.
Setting down her cup, Janus leaned over the log, watching the fires dancing in the distance. Heras stood alone by hers, arms folded as she stared over the mountain pass.
A surge of confidence bloomed in Janus’ chest. She stood, smoothing back her hair as she approached Heras. The closer she tread, the more her hand trembled, and she tucked it into her cloak, hoping to conceal her nerves.
“Congratulations.” Janus offered softly. “On winning the trial.”
Heras turned, surprise written on her face. “Thank you. Though I’d rather it not have come to this.”
