Page 96 of Death of the Glass Angel
“Are you alright?” Felsin asked softly.
“No,” Janus said honestly. “How did you find us?”
“You can thank Sors for that.” Felsin joked, but his face grew grim. “I saw your fate and caught a glimpse of the mirage. Like it was guiding me.”
“Fate.” Janus echoed. “Was it the fortune with the tower, and death?”
“No. Whatever that portent foretells, it hasn’t come to pass.’
Before coming here, Janus had never believed in fate. Now she clung to it in fear. How desperately she’d wanted him to say yes, to tell her she’d avoided causing another death.
Her hand trembled on the lantern again.
“Here.” Felsin took the lantern from her and offered an arm.
Janus’ fingers sank into his shirt as she grabbed his arm. The world steadied, and her thoughts calmed. Only the silent tunnel and the sound of their footfalls remained.
Felsin slowed as the tunnel widened out, great doors hanging open ahead of them, a torch illuminating a pair of corpses. He motioned for Janus to wait as he crept forward, disappearing into the complex. After a moment, he returned, waving for her to join him.
The entire compound was. . . fine. No cracks marred the ceiling; no rubble covered the floor. Bodies littered the main room, and some workbenches were overturned, but most remained in their original stations. The doors hung open, but not off their hinges, and not one piece of debris cluttered the ground.
Felsin studied the ceiling, stunned. “This had started to break. Collapse.” He pointed to a spot on the ground near the open door. “A boulder the size of a table landed there.”
Carefully tiptoeing forward, Janus nudged one of the workers’ bodies. His head was dented, his chest severely bruised. The guards were in a similar state; their armor caved from blunt force trauma. And from what little Janus could remember—what Des remembered—they had been thrown against the wall, or chunks of the ceiling had crushed them.
“We shouldn’t linger,” Felsin said, stressed. “I don’t like this.”
Backing away from the scene slowly, Janus checked the ceiling and walls one last time before running through the open door, where she and Talon had been cornered by the mirage evoker. A pile of rubble littered the hallway, and a hole the size of an elevator shaft broke up the ceiling. This had remained. Why had nothing else?
Janus returned to the main room to see Felsin crouched over a body—another guard.
“Describe him,” Felsin asked. “The evoker who questioned you.”
“Coppery skin, black hair.” Janus reflected on his face. “Stern features, sharp chin.” She glanced around. “He’s not here.”
“No, he’s not. But he sounds familiar.” Felsin touched his crystal necklace. His eyes glazed over as he sifted through his clan’s memories. “I’ve seen him at the palace. He’s from Valeria.”
“Maybe that’s why he asked about Gem.” Janus wondered. “Who was he?”
“An evoker working for Mother. Court mage, for a time.” Felsin trailed off.
“Working for your mother?” Janus echoed.
“She wouldn’t. . .” Felsin’s eyes darted around. “She wouldn’t order my death.”
“Would she order mine?” Janus wondered. “Something changed. Now they want me alive.”
A glint of silver caught her eye, and she walked toward an overturned workbench. A chunk of anmarite lay on the floor, nearly the same size and shape as the lump Alfaris kept in a display case.
Picking it up, Janus ran a finger over its smooth surface. Eros had been fascinated by this particular rock.
‘Mineral,’ she could hear Evander correcting her.
“Alfaris does nothing by halves,” Felsin said. “He showed that to you because he knew this was coming.”
Janus shoved the ore into her pocket, beside the glass angel. “Then I need to see him again.”
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