“I’m sure,” Janus assured him.
“But I already had everything set aside for it.”
“I’d rather ride.” She swallowed. “I. . . don’t like carriages.”
Haraj shook his head. “Your horse isn’t a hauler, though; I’ll have to find another to pull this.”
“Great.”
Suppressing a curse, Haraj scowled at her. “Anything for the king’s beloved daughter, I suppose.”
“Listen,” Janus pleaded, “I really am sorry about-”
Turning abruptly away, the stable master returned to the store room and slammed the door. Janus flinched. Three years ago, a slight evoking mishap had destroyed half the stables. A mishap that might have been Janus’ fault. Haraj had never forgiven her.
Knitting her hands together, Janus waited impatiently. She hardly recalled the last Badulf-Esseg ball. Her time had been spent reassuring Eros that Father and Evander would return in a few weeks rather than never.
A losing battle. Eros always assumed he’d been abandoned.
“Does he still hate you?”
Janus jumped out of her skin. “Gem!” She gasped. “Don’t sneak up on me.”
Hands tucked calmly in his pockets, Gemellus glanced at the store room. “Let him handle it. Why don’t we do something more interesting? I have a lesson for you.”
“I graduated two years ago, Gem.”
“And you’re never too old to learn.” He tilted his head. “C’mon.”
Swallowing as she watched Haraj’s angry shadow pass the stables, Janus eagerly followed Gemellus. ”Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
Leading her away from the palace, Gemellus guided her onto the crowded streets of Piona. Under the setting sun, the clusters of sandstone buildings shone golden red. Navigating down a set of broad steps, Gemellus brought them down to the docks and onto a rocky hill overlooking the distant lake.
“Here,” he stated.
“What’s here?” Janus asked, standing on her tiptoes.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Gemellus suggested. “I’ve been observing a sinkhole forming here. I think it’s going to open up soon.”
“Are you sure we’re safe here?”
“Perfectly. I measured it earlier.”
Supposing she trusted him, Janus folded her arms and waited. Gemellus never felt the need to fill space with idle chatter, unlike Janus. She opened her mouth to ramble about something, only to recall his lessons in the value of quiet companionship. Bored, she allowed her shoulders to slump as she watched the ground ahead of her.
The last sunlight faded, bathing the world in purple light. And just as night arrived to take the sun’s place, the sinkhole opened.
Janus started as the ground a few feet away collapsed, revealing a pocket of empty space hiding just below the surface, about three feet wide and several feet deep.
“There it is!” Gemellus declared cheerfully. “I’d wager you’ve never seen anything like that before?”
“I haven’t,” Janus confirmed, locking the memory in her mind.
“Memories are the most precious things we possess. Especially for evokers.” He turned to her, and it felt like his eyes gazed directly into hers, though they hid behind a blindfold. “Every experience is an asset. Even boring ballroom dances.”
“Are you suggesting I open a sinkhole at the ball?”
