Page 12 of Death of the Glass Angel (Apotheosis #1)

Talon

Humanity has always gazed upon dragons and seen divinity. Strength beyond measure, wisdom and intelligence of unfathomable years. Even the wings on my helm were meant to invoke them.

-Excerpt from Sir Penna’s journal

Talon leaned on the short stone wall overlooking a terrifying descent down the mountain’s slope. A cold wind blew against his back, unpleasant, but preferable to the heat.

He should jump. A low voice whispered.

He should. Another voice agreed.

He survived the last fall.

A fall from this height would either kill him or break all his bones on the descent. But the incessant voices were difficult to ignore.

‘What you hear isn’t real.’ Master Lark had snapped. ‘Block it out.’

Pressing hands to his ears, Talon heard the wind and distant chatter of the crowds fade until muted, but the disembodied voices continued, as loud as before.

Not real. If he could hear them when all else fell silent, they were not real.

But who would have the power to speak directly into his mind if not the gods themselves?

Backing away from the edge, Talon heard footsteps and whirled around to see a red-haired woman in a plain dress approaching him, a coy smile on her face.

“What’s a handsome man like you doing in a place like this?” Valkyrie teased.

“Meeting you.” Talon leaned his back against the wall, crossing his ankles. “Won’t your date be jealous?”

“I’m sure he’ll manage.” Valkyrie sat on the wall beside him. “I’m dying to know. What’s the sheltered Princess Janus like?”

“Boring,” Talon answered, shoving his hands in his pockets to escape the chill. “Something of a bookworm. Doesn’t seem to pay a lick of attention to politics, let alone her own father’s.”

Boring. A true enough description for Janus, but not for Des.

Valkyrie frowned. “Really? What’s Heras’ problem with her, then?”

“You noticed that, too?”

“Hard not to. Heras seemed restless for most of the first hour. It wasn’t until Janus walked in with you that I realized she had been anxiously waiting to get eyes on Thuatia’s princess.” Valkyrie paused. “Like she wanted to size her up.”

“Whatever’s going on, Janus is blameless, I assure you. Unless she’s a brilliant expert in deception, she’s a threat to no one. And oblivious, to boot.”

“The opposite of Paulus, I guess.”

“I’ve never met him. What’s he like?”

“What you saw.” Valkyrie gestured vaguely. “Shy. Aloof. Doesn’t like talking much. But he’s attentive. He listens to everything and everyone. Very carefully.”

Jump. The voices urged.

He should jump. They echoed.

Unable to ignore them, Talon glanced at the dizzying fall into the valley. “Any news from Sigilus?”

“No. The king has struck a deal with Dragos to buy one of their flying ships.” Valkyrie shrugged. “But, all in all, it’s been a quiet year.”

“Well, good.”

“Abroad. It’s been a quiet year abroad.” Valkyrie pulled out a scroll and offered it to Talon.

Curious, Talon unrolled it, taking a moment to adjust to the Altanese scrawl on the parchment: a report from a guard to Weisskopf’s captain of security, detailing a stream of missing persons in the Stone Quarter, a rough neighborhood on the city’s south end.

A few without homes had gone missing, then a handful of former prisoners. The investigation had picked up in earnest once the owner of a bakery had also vanished. According to this report, no one had been found, and no evidence had turned up.

“Strange.” Talon rolled the scroll back up. “But hardly our problem. Why the interest?”

“The disappearances started a year ago, a week after Heras missed the Thruinc council,” Valkyrie said.

“And? I doubt the two are related.”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“Look into it if you’re that curious.” Talon handed her the scroll. “I should stick by Janus, try to puzzle out who wants her dead.”

Valkyrie plucked the missive from his hands and tucked it into her bag. “Want to make a bet?”

A flash of fire erupted on Valkyrie’s fingertip as she pulled out a cigar and lit it. Talon flinched beneath the flame’s glow and shimmied a step away from her.

Why is he scared? The voices whispered.

He should jump.

Irritating, repetitive. Talon wished they’d stop. He rolled his tongue in his mouth as it dried out, the taste of smoke infecting it. The scent of burning wood carried on the wind, far more potent than what Valkyrie’s cigar should have produced.

Talon swallowed, forcing back his memories.

Letting out a puff of smoke, Valkyrie’s hand drooped. “Well?”

“You know I can’t say no to a gamble.”

“Ten gold says I’ll find something of worth investigating this.” She waved the missive.

“Twenty gold says you’re wrong.”

“Deal.” She tried to blow a circle of smoke, but it emerged more like a squiggle. “I’m Lady Mela of House Parnesius, by the way.”

“Parnesius?” Talon whistled. “How did Dove get you that?”

“I’m just a lesser cousin. The prince likes me for my personality.” She smirked. “Should we make each other’s acquaintance at the next ball? Paulus is skipping the hunt.”

“I’ll save you a dance,” Talon promised.

“Bet you five gold you’ll forget.”

“Down, girl. You’ll lose your entire purse at this rate.”

Chuckling, Valkyrie dropped her cigar and waltzed away, disappearing down a set of stairs.

Taking a final glance over the ledge, Talon gripped the stone so tightly it dug into his skin. Fire paralyzed him to this day, yet he harbored no fear of heights.

Strange, how some memories lingered like blood stains on stone. Others faded, washed away by time and rain.

Sighing, Talon returned to the princess’s suite. There was a chance, however slim, that Des would awaken in the night to see if he was still there.

The guard on duty nodded and let Talon in, and he quietly crept through the manor into the parlor. Shrugging off his coat, he laid it across the back of a chair. As he loosened his cuffs, the sound of footsteps and a thud caught his ear, and he wandered back into the foyer.

Des stood by the fire, warming a kettle over the heat, her old maid insisting she return to bed. With a sharp order, Des shooed her off. Throwing up her hands in defeat, Raja walked away.

“Can’t sleep?” Talon asked, approaching Des.

“No. It’s too cold,” Des said, pouring hot water from the kettle into a mug. “I’m not used to this frigid air.”

“Probably because you ran around barefoot in a backless dress.”

“I felt fine, then. Adrenaline keeps me plenty warm.” Her brown eyes, now washed of makeup, flicked up at him. “Sheets do not.” Grabbing her mug, she returned to her room.

Her body language was relaxed, not dismissive. She wanted him to follow. Leaning against the door frame, Talon crossed his ankles. “I can think of a few ways to keep warm,” He lost his train of thought upon noticing a small knitted creature lying on her bedside table.

It was a little dragon. Well-used, judging from the loose threads around its button eyes and the hole in one of its wings. Des snatched it and tucked it behind her back. “What?” She barked.

“Who’s that?” Talon asked.

“She’s. . .” Des’s shoulders slumped, defeated. “Des.”

“You named it after yourself? And I thought I was vain.”

“Janus named it. I put it there when I go to sleep, in case. . .”

“In case what?”

She gently returned the stuffed creature to the bedside table. “It belonged to Eros. Janus never sleeps without it.”

Talon stood straight, hearing the deceased prince’s name. The poor kid had only been ten when he’d died in a freak accident.

From a fire that should not have been able to start in a sandstone room. Lark had often wondered if there was more to the story, but no evidence turned up.

“I see,” Talon said. “I’m not half bad at stitching if you need someone to touch her up.”

“Would you believe this is the thing Janus takes the best care of?” Des chuckled. “I might take you up on that offer.” Her eyes darkened. “I’m going on a hike with Felsin, and I don’t want you to come.”

“I’m hurt. And here I thought we were getting along so well.”

Des made a sound of disgust. “As if I’d desire the company of either of those brothers. Did you see the way Brand treated me?”

“I caught the tail end of it.” Talon reflected on the odd expression Brand had worn. “He was ogling you, but also taunting you.”

“He was.” Des played with a strand of her hair.

“Want me to kill him?”

“That’s a little excessive, no? I’d rather you-”

“Shadow you on your hike?”

“You read my mind.”

“Can’t say I’m used to woods.” Talon unclasped his cuffs. “I’m a city boy.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage.” Des shivered. “This tea isn’t warming me as much as I’d like.” She glanced down at her bed and back at him.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have pointed out the stuffed dragon. He’d squandered the perfect opportunity to slip into her bed and secure her trust.

Seeing her clutch the little yarn dragon, Talon was glad the moment passed them by. Using people was easier when you knew nothing of the vulnerabilities they hid inside.

He’d bedded countless women to aid his job, and disappeared once they’d exhausted their usefulness. It should have been easy to do the same to Des.

But Talon didn’t want to hurt her.

“Need an extra blanket?” He asked instead.

“I’m fine.” Des shooed him off with a dismissive flick of her fingers.

Bowing exaggeratedly, Talon smiled at her. “Goodnight, my lady.” He glanced over his shoulder as he closed her door, noticing her tilt the dragon so its frayed snout could stalwartly watch over the bed.