“There are better ways to escape from boredom,” Gemellus said. “Considering where you’re going, I suggest the sneering gossip the ladies of Sigilus partake in as though it’s their lifeblood.”
“I’m not much for gossip. Or talking.”
“Find someone to teach you, then. Weren’t you staring longingly at the charming young man who cleans the horse’s hooves?”
“I swear you spy on me.”
“You never leave the palace, Janus.” Gemellus tutted. “Spying on you is all too easy.”
“Ugh.” Janus frowned. “Are you sure you’re actually blind?”
Without pause, Gemellus pulled off his blindfold, revealing scratched-up, scarred eyes with milky-white irises. “Yes.”
Janus had probably asked him fifty times, and each question yielded the same response. “I’m jealous. You’re still more perceptive than I’ll ever be.”
“Not necessarily. I’m merely seasoned, like a finely aged wine.” He retied the blindfold, hiding the scars. “When you get to my age, perhaps you will be just as richly flavored. But,” he enunciated. “You’ll have to start leaving your room more often.”
“I’d rather be like aged cheese than wine,” Janus said, glancing back at the sinkhole.
“I. . .” Gemellus shook his head. “You should spend what remains of the night with Evander. He’s been fretting over you like a mother hen.” Gemellus placed a gentle hand on Janus’s back to steer her back toward the palace.
As they walked, Janus couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder repeatedly. Eros would have gaped in awe had Janus managed to tear a hole in the ground with only her mind. He might have even liked it as much as the opportunity to wear fanciful clothing and mingle with the continent’s highest of society at the legendary Badulf-Esseg.
Raising an arm, Janus wiped away moisture forming at the edges of her eyes. Everyone had told her years ago that pain would mend with time.
But it never had.
Gemellus dropped her off at the palace doors, and Janus continued alone to the second-story lounge. A fire crackled in the hearth. Giving it a wide berth, Janus poured herself a drink and curled up on the couch, hugging a pillow to her chest.
Her fingers trembled on the glass as she lifted it to drink.
Janus chuckled, despite herself. She was ridiculous.
Every woman her age would dream of attending a ball like this. They’d delight in tailoring a gorgeous gown and dancing with handsome young men. Janus should be excited. Both ideas sounded wonderful.
Fear choked her throat. Fear of eyes landing on her, searching, scouring. Finding the truth she hid inside.
No man should court a woman like her. A murderer.
3
Janus
One innocent yet lives in this world. One glass angel. Such creatures only grace our world but once every thousand years. And I intend to claim him.
-Letter from Lady Entia to Gemellus Instigo
Evander finished tying Janus’ deep purple headscarf into place and tilted his head to gaze into the mirror. Observing her expression, he sighed. “You look pathetic, Janus.”
“Don’t I know it?” Janus agreed.
“Traveling isn’t pleasant for anyone, but it’s not as bad as you think.” Evander stepped away. “And you’re the one who denied taking a carriage.”
“I wanted to ride.”
“Because horses seem more like adventures.” Evander assumed
He was partially correct. At least on horseback, Janus could pretend she was striking out to ancient ruins rather than a ballroom.
