Page 158 of Death of the Glass Angel
The revered ancestors?
Or the truth he suspected?
Pulling out his deck, he shuffled the cards and spread them, face down, on the banister. Tapping his finger, he tried to sense one calling to him, but all were black, meaningless pieces of paper.
Staring into the firmament, Felsin focused on the silver glow of the stars, remembering everything Alfaris had taught him. The sky was a canvas, the stars sentient. Those chroniclers above know our histories and write our futures. One need only release their mortal body and connect with those above.
A truly spiritual experience, one few could grasp. But there was another step, which Alfaris had outlined as the most important rule.
Let not the glance behind steal away your chance to change the foretold end.
Felsin closed his eyes, washing his mind of memories and searching the heavens for tomorrow. He focused on the shimmering patterns of stars taking shape into constellations that matched the cards.
Father had been murdered.
Intrusive thoughts interrupted Felsin’s concentration.
Who would have murdered him? Why? Father had not taken part in Heras’s affairs, supporting her only in the home. While Mother was away, Father raised the children and looked after the house. He had done nothing in politics and was nobody in the Gaevral clan. What benefit was there to his death?
. . . to Felsin’s death?
The stars faded, and the pattern vanished. Blinking lights, distant celestial bodies, unreadable.Meaningless.
Frustrated, Felsin backed away. Mother was right. He was stuck in the past, bound by old traditions, and unable to look forward.
A seer who clung to the voices of those long dead. A man trying to walk two roads, when there couldonly be one.
40
Janus
Let not misguided hope blind you
From the bloodied path left behind
Janus leaned out the viewing window, admiring the vast opera house. Their private box loomed high above the stage, above the rows of seats packed with attendees.
Backing away, Janus dropped into her cushioned seat. Rich red banners of the Gaevral clan decorated the box, glowing faintly under the light of the single lantern.
Outside, Altanese and Sigillite guards stood vigil while Gemellus leaned beside the door, flipping a coin.
His head turned in her direction. “Would some effort have killed you?”
“Hm,” Janus glanced down at her plain white dress. “I wanted to be comfortable. It’s not like anyone’s going to see me.”
“They’ll see you at the banquet.” Gemellus rolled his head, and under his blindfold, probably his eyes, too. Flicking a handkerchief and tucking it into his vest, he ran a hand down the detailed embroidery.
“I’m not vain like you, Gem.” Janus rolled her eyes, too.
“Speaking of which, try to get attacked in public next time. It does me no good if my dashing rescue goes unseen.”
“Who exactly are you trying to impress?”
He smirked. “The world itself. Nothing less.”
Shaking her head, Janus closed her eyes and remembered what Des had overheard last night. Who was the lead actor? And what did Heras expect them to do?
Gemellus furrowed his brow and stepped outside, returning a moment later with a guest. Dressed richly in red tweed wrap with awhite fur cloak, Felsin nodded thanks at Gemellus before setting his golden gaze on Janus.
