Page 84 of Death of the Glass Angel
Felsin reclined in his porch’s rocking chair, looking between the promenade sprawling below and the sky of stars above. A sense of unease pervaded him, though he was not sure why. Janus was under tight guard, and he was home. They were both safe.
Flipping through his deck of cards, Felsin dwelt on the trip to the observatory and the impromptu training session.
Janus was an awkward young woman. Nervous and frightened, a dark cloud hung over her. The past haunted the poor girl.
Maybe others would think her strange, but Felsin was growing to like her. She was cute, especially when enthusiasm brightened her eyes and all timidness melted away.
The door creaked open, and a woman, curly-haired and dark-skinned, peeked outside. “There you are.”
Felsin couldn’t remember the last time his mother willingly sought him out. She had been too busy of late.
“Mother.” He sat forward. “Something wrong?”
“No.” Heras shook her head. “Someone tried to kill you, remember? But you haven’t seen fit to inform me of your comings and goings.”
“Sorry. I’ll leave a note next time.” He paused. “Did anyone recognize the dead man?”
“No, of course not. He was probably foreign.”
“Right,”Felsin murmured.
Heras stepped outside and laid a hand on his shoulder before retreating inside. They had been standoffish to one another recently. Felsin supposed he was equally to blame for the rift.
Sighing, he returned his gaze to the stars.
Near-freezing temperatures blanketed the city tonight, but the cold never bothered Felsin. He quite liked it. Basking in the pleasant chill, he studied the heavens, straining to see what Alfaris did—to watch more than what appeared to the naked eye.
Felsin pulled his deck out and shuffled it, pulling a random card. An evoker in flowing robes, hands extended to the stars—The Magician.
The stars brightened and changed, resonating. Concentrating on Janus’s star, Felsin watched a feminine figure, outlined in bright starlight, move through the heavens, bowing as though an actor relieved of the stage as a shadow dashed ahead and led the way. Hasty steps carried her onward, laced with tense anxiety. She ducked and weaved through a narrow hall or cramped tunnel.
The figure in starlight collapsed, as though struck down by a blade. Then, the canvas blurred and darkened, and Felsin lost concentration.
Worried, Felsin leaned forward, trying again, but his thoughts ran rampant, interrupting the quiet calm required for readings.
Rocketing from his chair, Felsin grabbed his coat from where it draped over the balcony and pulled it on, raking his curls into a short ponytail. He stepped onto the railing, a prick of pain coursing through his veins as he channeled his blood into earthen magic.
Stone steps formed against the balcony, slamming into place one by one as he raced down to the courtyard below. Ignoring the guard calling out in surprise, he climbed over the walls and dropped onto the other side.
“Going somewhere?” Brand leaned against the wall, red locks bright against the night.
Felsin froze. “Is there a reason you’re loitering outside?”
“I was coming home when I heard you leaving.” Brand pushed off the wall. “Well?”
“I saw something,” Felsin said reluctantly.
“Not with your eyes, I’d guess.” Brand gestured for Felsin to lead. “Someone did try to kill you. You might want company.”
“Where have you been?” Felsin asked, trudging down the street. “You show up to interrupt my-”
Brand didn’t let him finish. “Interrupt your little date?”
“Training session.” Felsin corrected, looking away. Their practiced jabs had been. . . a bit more than friendly. “I have questions for you, Brand. About the assassins you brought to me, for one.”
“They fooled all of us. And if you recall, I have my hands full.” Brand said sharply. “Khan has it out for mother.”
“For good reason. Chiefs are not meant to act alone.”
