Page 149 of Death of the Glass Angel
“The evoker, er, Castelmar. We found his plans to graft anmarite to stormborn.” Janus tapped the metal arm again. “It worked.”
Gemellus stuttered over his words, a sound Janus had never before heard. Eventually, he managed to string together a coherent sentence. “By the scour-” He cut off whatever curse had been coming. “You went through with it? Have you taken leave of your senses?”
Exhausted, Talon offered only a halfhearted response. “The skin had a hole. I filled it.”
Janus snorted and regretted it. Gemellus did not seem amused.
“Why with anmarite?” Gemellus demanded. “Why not with—with anything else?”
“What else is there?” Talon shrugged despondently. “It worked, didn’t it? At least my arm is indestructible now.”
Teeth gritted, Gemellus exhaled and yanked off his blindfold to rub his eyes. “Of all the-”
Frowning, Janus leaned forward to look her tutor in the eyes. “What’s gotten into you? Do you know something about anmarite we don’t?”
“Supposedly, it amplifies magic. What if it amplifies spells cast on you?”
“I’m not in the habit of getting into fights,” Talon said.
Gemellus opened his mouth to speak further, but bit his lip and looked away.
“Are you okay, Gem?” Janus asked.
“It’s the color of the room.” Gemellus gestured to the drapes. “Yellow. Joyful. It seeps into my skin like poison.”
“Someone’s being dramatic today.”
“I’m dramatic every day, Janus.” He gathered up his parcels and swept his coat over his shoulders. “Did you know I practiced theatre in my youth?”
“You did?”
“Oh, the stories I could tell.” He glanced between them. “Keep an eye on each other.” Gemellus bowed and opened the door.
Before Janus could ask where he was going, the door clicked shut behind him.
“I think he’s upset,” Talon observed.
“You don’t say.” Janus teased.
Leaning back, Janus stared at the chandelier before returning to Talon. Pallid skin, dotted with dark freckles and smudged with tired shadows, made him look ill. Releasing a heavy exhale, Talon plonked onto his side, head connecting with her pillow.
They were alone. And they had not found a moment to themselves in days.
“So. . .” Janus started, unsure how to hold this kind of conversation. “Felsin.”
“What about him?” Talon’s voice was muffled by the pillow.
“He said your star had a shadow. Like mine.” Janus said carefully.
“Oh. At least offer me a drink first.”
“Ah.” Janus rose and nervously dusted herself off, running to the small bar in the corner where the servants had stocked a couple of bottles of liquor. Tapping on the bottles, Janus read off the labels.
A half-filled barrel of Altanese ale had served Janus many a night. Something told her Talon had more refined tastes. An unopened bottle of aged liquor, its name printed in Altanese glyphs, would probably be more to his taste.
Pouring him a small glass, Janus returned to the bed and offered it. Talon sat up and drained the liquor in one go before dropping the empty glass into Janus’s hands, silently asking for a refill.
Doing as he commanded, Janus returned with a much fuller glass, hoping he could hold his liquor. To her relief, he merely sipped. Clearing her throat, she sat delicately beside him. “That bad?”
