Page 11 of Death of the Glass Angel (Apotheosis #1)

Des

I watched the stars for the first time when I was sent to my death. They should have displayed only doom, but I saw something more. I saw life. I saw people. And painted on that great canvas in the heavens, for the first time in my life, I saw hope. And the next day, I met Aevus.

-Excerpt from Alfaris’ personal journal

Des glanced behind her as she slipped out of the palace gates. Nobody pursued her. Good.

Talon stared at her with raised brows. “You’re going to get in trouble.”

“Not if I return before my escort notices I’m gone.” She insisted, searching the road for their quarry.

Avalon led the heirs down a bend in the road, past a flurry of gaudy-dressed nobility and soldiers. Hiding in the shadows not lit by street lanterns, Des kept a fair way behind them.

Taking a set of stairs out of the palace district, the nobles descended into the bustling lower district.

Yanking off her heels, Des quietly padded down the stairs before darting behind the nearest building.

Tracing a path to the roof, she grabbed a loose brick and climbed from the window’s edge to the roof sill.

Crouching, she crossed the roof and watched the other heirs from above.

“What are you doing?” Talon breathed beside her. She hadn’t heard him ascend behind her.

“Getting a better vantage point,” Des whispered.

“The best way to follow someone is to blend with the crowd, not climb around, drawing attention.” He sighed. “Too late now, I suppose.”

“Do you follow people often?” Des asked, rising before he could answer and leaping the gap to the next building.

This city resembled her home. Flat roofs on square buildings clustered together—perfect for this sort of thing.

And for a simple merchant, Talon kept up with her effortlessly. He landed beside her and followed the bright spot of Avalon’s blonde braid as it rounded a bend. A door opened in the shadows of the next street, spilling firelight into the night.

“I know that place,” Talon murmured. “Follow me.”

Crossing the roofs, he stopped atop the building the nobles entered and patted his pockets. Freezing, he smirked and looked up at her.

“Do you have a lock pick on you?”

“Yes.” Des pulled a pin out of her hair. She’d tucked it in there, just in case.

“There’s a hatch.” He tapped his foot on hollow metal. “Here.”

Kneeling beside him, she felt around for the latch in the dark. Trying to hide her nerves, she studied the lock before pushing the pin into it.

She could lock pick, sure, but oftentimes it took a few tries. The last thing she wanted was for him to see her fail.

Snap. The lock pick broke.

“Here. Let me.” Talon offered.

“I got it.” Des insisted, snatching another pin from her hair. Bangs fell across her eyes as she tried again.

Snap.

Smug, Talon gently grabbed her hand and pushed it aside.

With the grace only the well-practiced could wield, he pulled a pick from. . . somewhere. Des hardly kept track of his hands as they flitted through the night, pushing the pick into the lock and deftly opening it, as though he’d used its key.

“Lady’s first.” He pulled the hatch open.

Eyeing him with suspicion, Des glanced down and grabbed the ladder. Shimmying into the tavern’s attic, the voices of its patrons reached her ears from below. Talon closed the hatch behind him and joined her, pressing his back to a door and listening before slipping through.

A small walkway circled the tavern’s edges, overlooking the floor space. A chandelier hung at eye level, and a pulley anchored to the wall raised and lowered it.

The staff must have used this walkway to light the chandelier. But with the candles burning brightly, Des doubted they would be disturbed for some time.

Grabbing the wooden banister, Des searched below. Talon leaned beside her.

Avalon approached the counter and passed a few coins to the bartender—a smudge of brown hair to Des’ eyes.

He gestured, and a table was cleared for them.

Most curious about Felsin, Des followed the shape of his curly black hair and the trail of his red sash as he grabbed a basket of darts and tossed one to Dinu.

The disheveled prince aimed and threw, effortlessly impaling the bullseye. Avalon grabbed a second and quickly threw hers, missing the target by a hair. Des leaned forward, impressed.

“How?” Avalon demanded. “How can you see straight enough to hit the bullseye?”

“Talent,” Dinu answered, voice slurred.

Felsin lazily raised his own, saying something Des couldn’t quite make out. Brand snorted in response, seating himself atop the table, easy to make out from the smudge of red waves.

“Everything seems normal to me,” Talon said. “Would you rather go down and join them?”

“I want to hear what they say.” Des insisted.

“I think you just wanted an excuse to climb the roofs,” Talon murmured.

Felsin sat on the table beside his brother. “Are you coming?”

“Of course.” Avalon grabbed another dart.

“You aren’t expecting me to come, I hope,” Dinu said, lazily throwing another dart and nailing another bullseye.

Avalon’s hands clenched into fists as she grabbed the basket.

Brand pointed at her as she angrily fished out a dart. “You spent some time with our newest lady. What did you make of her?”

“She’s not what I expected,” Avalon admitted. “It’s like she’s done this kind of thing before.” She paused. “Or she’s an outstanding actor.”

In the gloom of the walkway, Des figured her smirk would be well-hidden. She turned back to Talon to see one of his eyebrows raised.

“You,” Avalon continued, pointing at Brand. “Have been something of an ass tonight.”

The redhead shrugged nonchalantly. “Seeing all you blood heirs reminded me how fleeting my title is. It’s irritating.”

“It’s how the ancestors intended.” Felsin disagreed.

“Have you ever considered that, perhaps, they were wrong?”

Though Des couldn’t see his eyes, she could feel the glowering look Felsin shot his brother. Talon sucked in air through his teeth.

“What?” Des whispered.

“Ancestors are sacred here,” Talon explained. “Saying that is like cursing Ellaila.”

Des nodded. Everyone would stop and gape at you should you say such a thing in the streets of Piona. The tension downstairs grew until Dinu broke the silence.

“So, Felsin.” Dinu paused to drain a mug. “How’s the business going?”

“For the last time, Dinu, I’m not a fortune teller.”

“Well, if you aren’t swindling people, you might as well take it to Valeria.”

“Why would anyone want to go to Dragos?” Felsin asked. “Your country is always on fire.”

“That’s part of its charm,” Dinu said fondly, hardly looking as he tossed another perfect shot.

Des furrowed her brow. “He’s cheating.” She whispered.

“How can you tell?” Talon asked.

“I saw his hands. They glowed just before he threw. The dart striking the target is an evoked fake; the real one is tucked behind his back.”

“Sharp eyes. I’m impressed.”

Hiding a smile, Des made herself comfortable.

“Nobody at Valeria would take me seriously.” Felsin continued their earlier conversation. “Besides, I don’t mind being its only wielder.”

“That’s fair.” Dinu shrugged. “I don’t believe you either.”

Avalon snickered. “You should give us another, for old time’s sake.”

Everyone turned to look at Felsin expectantly. Des caught a flash of annoyance in golden eyes as Felsin threw up his hands. “Fine. I’ll pull cards after the hunt.”

“Atta boy.” Brand slapped his brother’s shoulder.

The conversation resumed as a second round of drinks arrived at the table. The odd behavior the boys had displayed at the ball was absent now. Their ire had been directed solely at Des.

“Still hoping to convince Paulus to attend the hunt?” Dinu asked.

“Yes, but I’m not going anywhere until we’re tied,” Avalon growled. The box of darts was nearly empty.

“I can extend an invite,” Felsin said, grabbing his scarf from the back of his chair. “You’ll be coming, Dinu?”

“Ash and cinder, no.” Dinu denied.

Chuckling, Felsin strolled out of sight. Des heard the door creak open. Pushing off the railing, she whispered to Talon. “Let’s get back.”

“Satisfied?” He murmured, trailing behind her.

Climbing out of the hatch, Des searched for a path down to the street. There was no need for secrecy on the return journey.

“If Heras or one of her family ordered the assassins,” Talon whispered. “They’d hardly mention it to others.”

“That’s not why I followed them,” Des said. “It’s useful to know how people act when you aren’t around. And Heras’ sons treated me differently from everyone else.”

Talon eyed her curiously, then smiled knowingly at her. “Oh, you do this for everyone, don’t you? Your guards, your brother, your father. . . that tutor of yours, even the servants?”

“Of course,” Des said, glancing away. She’s gotten good at shadowing people, but could never fool Gemellus.

He always caught her.

“What was Felsin talking about?” Talon asked. “About Valeria, and being something’s only wielder?”

“I’m not sure. Valeria’s home to evoking college, and a hive of brilliant magical minds. Something related to that?” Des guessed. Finding a path of loose stones and window sills, she crouched to begin her climb down.

“Let me go first.” Talon swung over the roof and effortlessly climbed down.

Merchant. Right. Slipping over the side far more slowly than he, Des halted halfway down when she noticed Talon beckoning to her.

“Jump.” He called.

“Why? So you can laugh when I break my leg?”

“You wound me, my lady. I only wished to treat you as a princess deserves.”

Des could see the mischief in his eyes, even from up here. Closing her eyes and inhaling deeply, she prayed she wouldn’t regret this choice.

Releasing her handhold, she let herself drop.

Talon caught her in his arms gracefully. Cradled against his chest, Des almost found the moment incredibly romantic.

Almost.

Talon smiled triumphantly. “By the Gods. It’s an angel, fallen from the sky.”

Elbowing him, Des weaseled out of his arms and grabbed her shoes. She turned to see him laughing. “I thought you were charming.”

“I wasn’t trying to be charming, Des. I was trying to be funny.”

“We’ve already established you aren’t funny,” Des mumbled. “Come on. Kalid’s going to realize I’m missing.”

Talon offered her an arm. “Shall we court, or do you plan to sneak back?”

Des stared at his offered arm, tracing the black fabric of his coat up to his face. He smiled broadly, freckles pooling in his dimples beneath his brilliant purple eyes.

“Keep making fun of me, and I’ll bite back.” Des took his arm. “Watch your tongue.”

The amused expression shifted into an amorous smirk. “I’ll be sure to redouble my efforts, then.”

Flushing, Des glanced away, trying to hide her expression. The memory of Gemellus catching her practicing flirting in the mirror returned to haunt her, in tune with Talon’s wicked grin.

The palace was still packed when they returned, though several people were trickling out in pairs or groups. Felsin hesitated by the gates, awkwardly turning around and wandering toward a dead end that overlooked the mountains.

“Stay here,” Des said.

“As you say, my lady,” Talon said sarcastically.

Grabbing the hem of her dress, Des stopped a couple of paces behind the Altanese prince. “I thought you went out for drinks.”

Felsin slowly pulled his gaze from the starlit firmament to look at her. “Janus. Should you be out here alone?”

“I’m hardly alone.” Des gestured to the sea of guards around the promenade behind them. “What did you mean?” She pressed. “Were you mocking me?”

‘Do I speak to the princess or her shadow?’ He’d said.

Felsin tilted his head. “Oh, when I asked who I addressed?” He inclined his chin. “Look up. It’s a beautiful night. What do you see?”

A cold breeze stirred the mountainside, fluttering Des’s dress. Humoring him, she glanced up at the stars. Thousands twinkled around the moon, a tiny white orb lost in a sea of darkness.

“Stars.” Des looked back down. “What’s your point?”

“Curious things,” Felsin murmured. “One amongst a million possesses something the others do not. They cast a shadow.” He turned his head, staring at Talon behind them. “Like yours. And his.”

“Do you typically speak in riddles?”

Felsin smiled. “There’s a hunt on in a couple of days. I was asked to extend an invitation to you and Paulus.”

“A hunt?”

“Classic Altanese tradition. Nothing more heartfelt than gifting another a piece of your catch.”

“I’m not much of a hunter.” Des denied.

“Neither am I.” Felsin smiled. “How about a hike, then? Even if you aren’t riding with the men, it would be a shame to miss the valley. And there’s something there I think you’d like to see.”

“I’ll go.” Des narrowed her eyes. “But you haven’t-”

Felsin abruptly walked away, pausing to speak softly in her ear. “We’ll have plenty of time to speak then. I have questions of my own. But they shouldn’t be asked here.”

Before she could think of a response, he was gone, slipping through the palace gates. Talon returned to her side. “Seemed like a fruitful conversation.”

Des opened her mouth to respond, but she had no idea what to say. Nor what to make of the prince’s odd words.

“Now, shall we? If you get caught sneaking out while assassins are after your head. . .” Talon warned, offering his arm.

“Something tells me I have more troubles than mere assassins.” She took his arm.

“A rash?”

“Is that your idea of a joke?”

“Yes.” Talon smiled at her, pupil-less purple eyes nearly as bright as the stars.

He was irritatingly handsome. And he knew it, too.

Before they passed through the palace doors, Des took a final glance at the stars, searching the starry canvas for shadows dancing beneath the starlight.