Page 53 of Death of the Glass Angel
Janus pressed her palms on the table. “I need to see him.”
“I can arrange a meeting.” Felsin nodded. “But there’s something more dire we have to do first.”
“What?”
“Attend the next ball.”
15
Janus/Talon
Galas—what awful business. I don’t miss them one bit. If the hours spent preening were not enough to drive me mad, the several other hours waiting for Gemellus to finish preening were absolute torture.
-Private letter from Professor Aevus to Sir Penna
Panic rushed through Janus in unrelenting streams of hot fire.
She knit her fingers together, clenching her hands before her chest. Heavy security watched over the palace, but it was not assassins Janus feared this night.
Hoping to appear unremarkable, Janus had chosen the plainest dress she owned. A cream-colored gown with a beaded collar and sleeves embroidered with bright purple patterns.
Gods willing, the night would be over quickly. Janus had more important things to worry about than dances.
“Are you ready?” Talon asked, straightening his collar and smoothing his black velvet shoulder cape. “The assassination attempt will be the talk of the night.”
“Don’t remind me,” Janus muttered, but she presented a smile for Kalid as he held the doors open for them.
“You’ll be fine,” Talon said encouragingly, taking her arm.
If only his confidence in her was earned.
This palace was foreboding. They passed between braziers dousing dark stone walls in fire, footsteps muffled on scarlet carpet. Clusters of nobles populated the dance floor, a sea of unfamiliar faces. Only one acquaintance stood out, a man with light-brown skin and wavy blackhair, wearing a rather unfanciful white tunic with a tweed coat wrapped around his waist.
Felsin offered only a shallow bow, wincing and pressing a hand to his side. “There you are. Excited to be swarmed?”
“Oh, gods,” Janus murmured.
Brushing Janus’ cheek, Felsin tilted up her chin. Her first reaction was to gape with her teeth gritted, which couldn’t possibly be attractive. A noticeable blush followed.
“The bruise on your neck hasn’t faded. Play it for sympathy points if you need an escape.” He suggested, “I’ll join you later if that’s all right?”
“Of course!” Janus beamed at him, hand pressed to her chest. She temporarily forgot Talon’s presence until she noticed his eyebrows—they were closer to his hairline than his eyes. “Are you going to stick with me?”
“No.” Talon denied.
“Could you?”
“I taught you everything I know. Don’t you think it’s time the baby bird flew the nest?”
As Talon moved to walk away, Janus grabbed onto his elbow and pulled him back. “I’m funding your ticket. You’re staying with me.”
Talon sighed. “Very well, my lady.”
The setting sun poured orange light through the wall of windows, illuminating nosy and curious gazes as people Janus didn’t want anywhere near her turned in her direction. Pretending to admire the wall of banners and flags, Janus calmed her thrumming heart.
They were just people. Why was the threat of people so much more pressing than blades?
“Talon,” Janus turned to her date.
