Page 29 of Death of the Glass Angel (Apotheosis #1)

She grabbed something that resembled an ice pick from the tray and studied him. “You’re not like the others.” She said in Altanese. “You’re calm.”

“There’s no need for whatever that is,” Talon assured her. “I’ll answer whatever you ask.”

“You were looking for us.” She continued. “Why?”

“I was hired to look into the disappearances.” He glanced around. “I was expecting a butcher with specific tastes. Instead, I found an entire group. Organized, at that.”

The torturer tapped the ice pick against her hand. “Are you trained?”

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Magic.” She spat. “Have you been trained?”

Every cefra could use magic, but an untrained stormborn could produce sparks at best.

“Yes. What of it?”

“Show me.” She pointed to the far wall.

Now there was an opportunity. Maybe Talon could kill her and the guard and pick his way loose. But without knowing where Des was, it seemed too risky.

Her safety was more important than his life.

Heeding her order, Talon focused on the wall. Every cefra channeled through a catalyst, the link through which their magic swelled. For some, it was a memory, a chant, or a gesture.

For Talon, it was fear. He could only produce magic if he was terrified. After everything he’d been through, it took quite a lot to scare him. Though it made him a better spy, using magic had become more difficult with each passing year.

“You’re right,” Talon said. “I am calm. And unfortunately, my catalyst is fear.”

The torturer eyed the tray of instruments before glancing back at him.

Talon followed her gaze, tracing over the various uncomfortable tools she would use to torment him. But physical pain had long lost its power over him. Breathing steadily, Talon looked back at her and smiled.

Shifting tactics, the woman set the ice pick down. “That girl. The princess. Do you care for her?”

“She’s a princess?” Talon lied. “News to me. Before you kidnapped us, we’d never met.”

Tapping the ice pick against her palm, the woman strode closer. “She’s at our mercy. Should you refuse to cooperate, she’ll learn what it means to know pain but not die. And after that, well. . .there’s no shortage of men here who’ve gone weeks without the touch of a woman.”

Talon swallowed as a tiny feeling blossomed inside him, one rarely felt.

Fear.

* * *

Des sat against the cold wall of the dungeon, wondering if they’d dragged Talon away to his death. Alone in the dark, she was forced to confront an unpleasant truth: she could not escape without help.

A heavy weight lifted from her heart when she heard a door open in the distance, followed by footfalls. A guard dragged Talon back to his cell and locked him inside.

Shooting to her feet, Des pressed herself against the bars. “Are you alright?”

“Mm. A bit dizzy.” He sank to his knees, eyes heavily shadowed. Blood trickled down his arm. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

Sitting, Des leaned against the icy bars. “No. An evoker questioned me. He asked about Eros and Gemellus.” She bit her lip. “He dug through my mind when I wouldn’t give him what he wanted.”

Talon narrowed his eyes. “What did he look like?”

“Copper skin. Black hair. Thin beard.”

“Shit,” Talon murmured. “You said he read your memories? I’m no evoker, but as I understand, that’s a difficult—and forbidden—spell.”

“It is.”

“We need to get out of here.” He shifted to retrieve his lockpick, but his eyes fluttered and he nearly lost balance. “You’ll need to cover me, I’m not exactly at my best.”

Des leaned toward him, wishing she could help. “What did they do to you?”

“Some light torture. Nothing I couldn’t handle.” He said cheerily. “I think I might have seen a way out, but I’ll need you to evoke a few tools.”

She bit her lip. “I can’t evoke.”

“. . . what?”

“Janus evokes. I can’t.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. You’re the same damn person.”

“Are we?” Des snapped. “I’ve never been able to evoke. Never.”

He stared at her and slowly nodded. “Alright. We’ll do it the old-fashioned way, then. The guards wear axes on their belts and a dagger on the other side. If we sneak up on one, we can disarm him. Once you have it, drive it into the gaps in the armor at the neck.”

“Gods, you are a songbird, aren’t you?”

“Des, darling, did I not tell you that already?”

“I thought you were joking.” Des shook her head. She suddenly felt out of her depth, but desperately didn’t want Talon to know that. “You’re lithe. How are you going to take down one of those steel nightmares?”

“A child could cut you with a dagger, Des,” Talon replied, unamused, “If you did not see it coming.”

“Comparing yourself to a child isn’t instilling confidence in me.”

He motioned for her to press her back against the bars and fit his lockpick into her shackles. “Do you want my dagger, then?” He murmured into her ear.

“With how well you threw them last time? Not a chance.”

“I’m glad you noticed.” He held his lockpick between his teeth as he unclasped her shackles. “It’s the least of my talents. Shame you haven’t gotten to see the others.”

“And here I thought you danced pretty well.”

Talon flashed her a smile as she turned around. He was irritatingly handsome, especially now that she knew he was a spy who’d been sent to watch her.

Something bright caught her eye, and she glanced down to see water pooling across the floor.

Shooting to her feet, she backed away, trying to find its source.

When it washed over her feet, it did not feel wet, though it certainly appeared as if water lapped over her boots.

And though only faint light illuminated the room from a single torch, the water reflected everything above it as though lit by the sun.

Des froze, watching as phantom tendrils, not unlike grasping hands, raced across the surface of the reflective water and receded into the opposite wall, leaving behind dry stone floors.

Talon touched his boot, surprised to find it dry. “Saint’s winds. What was that?”

“Keep alert,” Des warned. “I think we have an uninvited guest.”