Page 58 of Death of the Glass Angel
His eyebrows fell. “You look distressed. Did he harass you again?”
“N-no. I’m just dizzy.”
Avalon barreled through the crowd and grabbed Felsin’s shoulder. “There you are.” She beamed. “Ready for a game?”
“Ash and cinder.” Dinu cursed behind Janus, startling her. He wandered up, fresh glass of ale in hand. “You alright? You look a little pale.”
“I’m fine.” Janus steadied her voice. “Too much wine.”
“I don’t think that’s a bad problem to have. Oh! By the way,” Dinu continued, “I convinced Paulus to sit with us tonight.”
“You did?” Avalon’s tone changed instantly. “How?”
“What is a man’s worth if not the weight of his mysteries?” Dinu chortled into his drink and sauntered away. Felsin chased after him, saying something Janus couldn’t hear.
She lingered on Felsin’s back as he hailed a servant and spoke with her. For a cefra, he had broad shoulders and defined muscles. And pretty eyes. And pretty hair. Janus rather liked the whole package.
Save for his brother. Janus bit her lip, reflecting on their dance. Brand had utterly controlled the situation, gotten under her skin within seconds. She was ashamed of herself.
“He’s not spoken for.” Avalon’s voice snapped Janus from her trance.
“What?”
“Felsin,” Avalon said with humor. “He’s unwed.”
* * *
Card games were one of many ways to quickly analyze someone’s character and find hidden details in their subtle mannerisms. Talon always invited his targets to a game upon their first meeting.
Avalon pulled her cards close and carefully shielded them from prying eyes. She took the game entirely too seriously and refused to let anyone steal a peek, though no one was trying. Here was a woman who did nothing by halves and did not open up easily. She placed great weight behind every play. Doubtless, a heavy burden had weighed on her shoulders, one where every decision mattered.
Then there was Paulus, the emerald green backs of his cards a perfect match for his cape and eyes. He reclined in his seat, lackadaisical, as though victory was assured. Or perhaps he knew this little game didn’t matter. He paid no mind to those who passed; politics mattered little to him.
Felsin hardly paid his cards any mind, his attention fixed on the others at the table. Enjoyment came not from his hand, strong or weak, but when another played a brilliant set. The outcome mattered more than winning. He prized not knowing the end, rather than relishing the now.
His brother lounged casually behind him, scarlet eyes flashing around the table and watching Felsin’s every move. Did Talon detect a hint of jealousy on Brand’s face? Not for his brother’s appearance or cards, but something unseen. Yet on the outside, he pretended not to care.
Dinu was perhaps the most interesting. He drank heavily and held his cards sloppily. Had Janus cared to lean over, she could have easily seen his hand. But beneath the disheveled exterior, Talon caught Dinu’s eyes darting over the other players, taking in their expressions, observing their moves. And to most people’s surprise, he won more rounds than he lost.
He hid himself inside a useless shell, but was his intention to lower others’ guards, or to escape from his shame?
“So, Janus,” Dinu said as he sorted his cards. “How many marriage proposals have you received?”
“None,” Janus answered.
“None? I’m surprised.”
“I’m not.” Janus chortled. “Have you seen me?”
“Don’t sweat it.” Dinu laid his hand down. Another high-scoring set. “Nobody asks Avalon to marry them, either.”
If looks could kill, Dinu would be a dead man. Avalon glared over her cards before resuming her intense concentration.
Paulus chuckled. “No need to insult her. I think Avalon is a fine young woman.”
“Young,” Dinu repeated, breathing out a laugh.
“You’re older than I am,” Avalon said sharply.
