Janus’ mind raced with a thousand ideas. She had no room for them.
Rubbing her aching temples, Janus tried not to move her wounded arm. Swiveling on the overturned log, she glanced across the camp, at the fire crackling near Heras’ tent.
Felsin was going to kill her. Deservedly so.
Gemellus pulled a kettle from their fire and poured her a cup of tea. A heavy wind blew wild her cloak and fluttered the bands of his blindfold.
“Thanks,” Janus said, taking the cup.
“Only another night of this,” Gem said, pouring himself a cup and sitting beside her. “Then we’ll be back in the city. Safe and sound,” he added the last part with a heavy dose of sarcasm.
“I think Talon’s been avoiding me.” Janus shifted back and forth.
“He wants to lessen the link between you two.”
“What’s he going to do, exactly?”
Gemellus paused thoughtfully. “Songbirds are sometimes assassins, as well as spies. Many a noble who died of sudden illness or accident was actually murdered.”
“So. . .” Janus digested his words. “I won’t know until he does it.”
“Precisely. If he’s good, you might even doubt the cause.”
“. . . what gives them the right to decide who lives and dies?”
“Themselves.” Gemellus brushed his bangs back. “They’ve made many mistakes. A price they think is worth paying.”
“Do you think so?”
A coy smile tugged at his lips. “You’d be surprised to hear my views on assassinating kings.”
Silence drenched their camp save for the flickering fire. Janus looked over her shoulder again, searching for Felsin.
Nowhere to be found.
“Gem,” Janus said, turning back. “Did Alfaris. . .?”
“Anything could follow those words, and the answer would still be ‘I don’t know.’”
“You don’t know something?”
“It happens.” Gemellus shrugged. “I’mbrilliant. . . but not omniscient.”
There was that ego of his.
Ego. Alfaris had mentioned the weakness hidden in Gem’s arrogance. Feeling the satchel around her hip, Janus reached into her bag and sorted its contents.
She carried little on her. The stuffed dragon, a couple of notebooks, a change of clothes, and most recently. . . the glass angel.
Pulling out the glass pendant, Janus ran a finger along its grooved wings. Gemellus shifted uncomfortably beside her.
“This was in the ruins,” Janus said. “But if it’s related to my other problems, I can’t see it.”
“We’ve been over this, dear. I don’t know what it is.”
“Surely you do.” Janus pressed. “You knoweverything. If you don’t know, who does?”
“Ijustsaid I don’t know everything.”
