And then the screams fell silent, and all Janus could hear was the sound of crackling flame.
Someone ran up to her, the pounding of their footfalls against the ground a distant echo. Someone grabbed her shoulders and cried for help. But they were too late.
* * *
“Janus?” A soft voice murmured. They waited a moment before trying again. “Janus?”
Blinking rapidly, Janus looked up at her elder brother. Black, unflattering robes swallowed him, blurring him into the sea of darkness around them. Evander’s eyes were puffy and red. He nudged her, beckoning her to look up.
A plump old man in the glittering silver of the clergy stood elevated on the docks, conducting the sermon.
Janus had never attended a funeral before. Perhaps she should have listened to the priest’s words. But her head sank until it once again stared at her boots, hidden beneath the hem of her dress.
Sighing, Evander gave up and stood straight as he listened to the sermon, though he reached down to hold Janus’s hand. A lifetime passed them by, composed only of distant murmurs, dark fog, and the warmth of her older brother’s hand enveloping hers.
An elbow jabbed Janus in the ribs, and she looked up to see the crowd parting for a procession. Two guards in ceremonial attire, their helms topped with twin horns, carried a coffin toward the boat waiting in the harbor.
It was beautiful, at least. Engravings of flowers and storm clouds, lightning tracing from their ether to a gentle sea, decorated the boat. The coffin was gently placed inside. The guards bowed and stepped back.
Queen Tauret stood at the front of the crowd, face buried in her hands as she sobbed. Father wrapped his arm around her, his face stoic but cracked. Janus took a shaky breath as the boat was pushed onto the lake, its sail catching the wind.
Slowly, the vessel would drift until it reached the opposite shore. Once it washed up on the beach, Eros’ soul would have found its way to the gods and joined their domain. Two lanterns burned on opposite sides of the boat—one for Ellaila, goddess of life, and one for Yesharu, god of time.
Janus wanted nothing more than to curse the gods, to chase the boat and ensure it never reached the opposite shore. When it landed, when the coffin was retrieved and placed inside the mausoleum, his death would become real.
The crowd remained to watch the boat begin its voyage. But the great lake was vast. Once the vessel was out of sight, the crowd dispersed.
Only the family remained. Eventually, Father guided Tauret from the shore. Weakened by tears, she stumbled in a daze as she followed her husband.
Evander rigidly gazed ahead. “You should follow Father. I think I’m going to stay a bit longer.”
Nodding blearily, Janus spun around, and a guard handed her the crutch he’d been holding. Wobbling on her cast-encased leg, Janus made no rush to follow her father and accepted no help from her attendant.
The pudgy-faced guard did not push her. He walked at her side, waiting when she stumbled.
The city sprawled before her and the lake behind, but Janus only made it to the edge of the first building before someone intercepted her.
A tall man draped in a black coat stood before her, wavy blonde hair framing his blindfolded eyes. Gemellus kneeled before her.
“Do you need help getting back?” He asked, voice heavily accented by the elegant Sigillite drawl.
“No,” Janus said, returning her gaze to the ground.
“Hm. Why don’t you go back to Evander, then? I think. . . I think he could use your company as much as you need his.”
“He told me to leave.”
“People do not always say what they truly feel.”
Broken, Janus looked over her shoulder, where her brother stood alone by the shore. “Okay.” She managed.
Gemellus gently turned her around, hand lingering on her shoulder until she took her first step. He touched the arm of her guard, ordering the kindly-faced man to stay back.
Hobbling on her crutch, Janus made the agonizing journey back to the lakeshore. A low thunder rang in the clouds, black masses blotting out the sun, but no rain fell.
Evander dropped to his knees. Worried, Janus limped as quickly as she could manage, but once she heard his voice, she halted. Distraught pain and rage poured from his mouth, like she’d never heard.
“Forgive me.” He repeated, over and over, amidst a stream of tears. The remainder of his ramblings were incoherent, but Janus heard those two words strong and clear.
