Page 44 of Death of the Glass Angel (Apotheosis #1)

Des

As a girl I dreamed of falling in love. Who didn’t?

But when finally my heart found the man I yearned for, it met with an icy wall.

He pushed me away every chance he got, choosing instead to shroud himself in shadow.

It was fun, I’ll admit, pushing against his refusal until he gave in to me.

To know I was the only soul who’d snuck behind those unseeing eyes.

-Excerpt from Lady Entia’s private journal

Des stepped from the carriage, eyes adjusting to the night. Activity buzzed around the parked carriages as guards and stewards set up camp, lighting torches along the perimeter.

Someone strode past Des and squeezed her shoulder. Startled, she whipped around to see Avalon passing her, royal blue surcoat fluttering behind her.

Avalon flashed her a grin and was gone. Her entourage trailed her, middle-aged men with graying hair, their tunics a deep blue. “My lady, I must ask you to sit down. Allow us to. . .”

The conversation drifted away.

Battering-ram. That’s what Dinu had called Avalon. Now Des understood, watching her set about pitching her tent, much to her steward’s chagrin.

Searching for the Dragosi prince, Des spotted him standing under a torch not far from the carriages. Drawing her cloak around her shoulders, she approached him, motioning towards Avalon. “Is she always like this?”

Dinu glanced over and wearily nodded. “All the time. If you offered her a massage, you’d be better off loosening a sheet of metal.”

“Hm.” Des chuckled. “Is she hoping to make us look bad?”

“She can try all she wants.” Dinu reached under his thick, velvet cloak and pulled out a cigar. “I’m content letting others do the busywork for me.”

“I admit,” Des said. “I’m jealous of your coat. Looks warm.”

“It’s always scalding in Thuatia, isn’t it?” Dinu puffed out a mouthful of smoke. “Dragos is either cold as tits or hot as sin. No in-between. We’ve learned to happily bake when the skies set us on fire.”

“I’ve always wanted to see a Dragosi ashfall.”

“So says every foreigner. Trust me.” He released a long line of smoke. “You don’t.” His amber eyes lit up, and he fished beneath his coat like an entire cabinet of supplies hid beneath. Eventually, he pulled out a pair of small bottles. “Here.”

Des took them both, turning them over. Finely aged liquor from Dragos, judging from the labels. “For me?”

“You look like you could use a drink.”

“Or two?”

“I only meant to grab one, but,” Dinu shrugged, “Eh.”

“Well, thank you.” Des bowed her head gratefully.

“Mhm.” He winked at her and pulled out his flask. As he raised it to his lips, Des noticed his fingers trembling. The man hesitated before gulping the liquor down like his life depended on it.

Des watched Dinu saunter away, wondering what he was hiding. He might have the world fooled into thinking him a worthless slob, but Des thought otherwise.

Tucking the bottles into her satchel, Des meandered through the camp, scanning the tents and carriages for familiar faces.

She gravitated toward Talon without thinking. He sat on a rock near Chief Heras’ tent, back turned but ears perked up, listening.

“I’m cutting my losses.” He announced as she approached. “I’m going scouting tonight. Want to come?”

“Just what do you mean by ‘cutting your losses’?” Des sat on a rock opposite him.

“You’re going to follow me, so I might as well bring you from the onset.” Talon leaned forward. “It’s nothing exciting. Just making sure no one’s following us, or lurking in the passes.”

“A good idea.” She rose abruptly. “I’ll see you later, then.”

“Leaving already?”

“I have time to get in a nap, don’t I?”

Talon breathily laughed, and Des stopped and stared at him for a moment, tracing the lines of his face. She could study him for hours and never find a flaw.

Worse, he noticed her lingering stare, and his smile shifted to a smirk. Sticking her chin up, she marched away.

Brand walked between her and solace—the last person she wanted to see. Their meetings had been unpleasant. Small wonder he acted the way he did; powerful and handsome, he likely always got what he wanted.

“You and that merchant seem close,” Brand noted, brushing a strand of red hair from his eyes.

“He’s my guide,” Des said shortly.

“And yet I’ve never seen him before.”

“Is that so surprising?” Des moved to step around him.

Brand intercepted her, leaning in. “There’s more at play here than you understand. If I were you, I’d trust nobody.”

“Oh, and you’re looking out for me, are you?”

“It would be a shame for such a pretty face to come to harm.” His eyes narrowed. “Paulus and that woman with him—they’re hiding something.”

Des glanced around, finding the green-eyed prince beside a roaring fire. But Lady Mela—Valkyrie—was not with him.

“The two of them have been strangely interested in your court mage. Or maybe they were looking at you.” Brand leaned back. “Don’t assume you’ve found the hand holding the blade—you’ll lose sight of the steel.”

Des swallowed, watching Heras’ eldest son depart. Either Brand was lying, trying to throw her off track.

Or there was merit to his words.

* * *

By Yesharu, it was cold. Accustomed to the warmth of Thuatia, morning frost did not agree with Des. She wrapped her cloak around herself as she followed Talon, shivering under its folds.

This hike up a narrow mountain pass did little to warm her frigid bones.

Talon paused, leaning over a cliff and peering into the gloom. “Here should be a good spot, but. . .” He trailed off, scanning the pass. “I don’t see anything. Not for a long while.”

“And we just keep watch here, then?” Des asked, joining him at the edge.

“Mhm. Valkyrie’s scouting the other pass.” Talon answered. “But I don’t think anything will happen. She has it out for you. And you’re safe here, with me.”

“Are you my guardian now?”

“I’ve saved you a time or two, haven’t I?” Talon folded his arms, resting his injured limb atop the other. “We can head back if you’re tired.”

A smudge of orange appeared on the horizon: the sunrise. Des loitered beside Talon, scanning the shadows. A hawk soared overhead, disturbing the peace.

They were alone and far from company. There wasn’t a more perfect opportunity.

Des looked up at Talon. “So, what’s being a songbird like?”

“Hm.” Talon’s nose wrinkled. “Tiring. Sometimes you sit around for ages, other times you never sleep.”

“You carry a lot of lockpicks. Do you carry out heists often?”

“Sometimes.” Talon laughed. “I usually just talk to people. You can learn a lot by convincing them you’re a friend.”

As a child, Des had imagined a much more exciting life. Now that she had aged, Talon’s methods did seem altogether more. . . practical. “Well, you talked to me. Did you learn what you wanted?”

“Yes. You’re an interesting woman, Janus Vallides.”

Talon turned to leave, but Des touched his arm, asking him to stay. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Talon asked, skimming the pass attentively.

“You’ve learned everything about me. Fair’s fair.”

“And life’s a bitch.” Talon said, turning on his heel.

Des grabbed his arm and spun him around. “You asked what I wanted to know? I’ve come up with a few questions. Can we talk for a moment?”

“In such delightful scenery?”

“Here.” Des reached into her bag and pulled out the two bottles Dinu had gifted her the night before. “Care to share?”

“Des, the sun hasn’t risen, and you want to drink?”

“We have naught but a carriage ride awaiting us. Sleep it off.”

Talon’s eye caught the fanciful labeling on the bottle. “Lavinian ale? Why didn’t you say so?” Taking a bottle, he sat on a nearby ledge.

Removing her bottle’s cork with a satisfying pop, Des sipped the earthy brew. The strength of the liquor took her off guard, and she coughed.

Talon took a long drink and crossed his legs. “Where do you want me to start?”

“What’s your real name, for one?”

“Hm.” Talon chuckled. “Try again.”

Studying him like a puzzle, Des attempted to stitch together a question he would actually answer. “Where did you grow up?”

“Clodia,” Talon replied. “In a nice house, on a nice street. White stone. Old. Covered in ivy, my mother liked to cultivate.”

“Were you close to them?”

“To my mother. My father was about average, I suppose. He loved Mom, so he tolerated me.” Talon frowned slightly. “Nothing interesting happened if that’s what you’re getting at. I had a small gang of friends, and we got into trouble as kids do.”

“I’m not trying to uncover your darkest secrets.” Des tsked. “I’m trying to get to know the real Talon.”

“Oh. You met him in the ruins.”

“I met the songbird, sure. Is that the real you, though?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. You sort of forget yourself when you play a part for so long.” Talon said mournfully. “And I’ve played many roles.”

He drank with desperation, as though hoping the alcohol would wash away his memories. More than injury tormented him.

“Okay. Say you’re alone and off the mission. What do you do?”

“I gamble,” Talon said. “The thrill of winning after a chance to lose it all makes me feel alive.” He chuckled into his drink. “That’s why Felsin lost so much coin yesterday.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve squandered all your pay on card games.”

“Why shouldn’t I? I don’t have a future to plan for.”

Saddened by his answer, Des sat beside him. “You’ve been, um,” She hesitated. “Understanding of my situation. I always assumed anyone who found out would think I was crazy.”

“Believe me when I say I understand.” Talon insisted.

What did he mean by that? As he set his glass down, his collar parted, revealing the burn scar on his neck.

“Those scars,” Des said. “What happened?”

Talon’s face hardened. Des could tell he was erecting walls around himself.

“Janus hates fire,” Des explained. “Every time she sees your scars, I get pulled out. It reminds her of Eros.”

Talon softened, sighing. “I started a fire. Used magic when I shouldn’t have, in a place I shouldn’t have.” He stood, dusting himself off. “I was twelve. It’s been long enough. It’s just a scar, now.”

“I’m sorry,” Des said. “Though I guess I’m also relieved. I was worried the tale was much worse.”

“And then you’d feel bad for me?” Talon smirked. “Can’t have that.” He closed his eyes, frustrated. “I really shouldn’t be telling you any of this.”

“Why not?”

Talon didn’t answer. Whatever cracks had formed in his mask were repaired now.

Piece by piece, Des would pry his shell off. She wanted to meet the man hiding within.

“How about I ask you something simple?” Des stood. “How old are you?”

Talon brightened up. “Guess.”

“Twenty-five.”

“Close.” He glanced down the slope. “It’s a long walk back. Are you sure you’ll be able to make it?”

Scoffing, Des pushed him gently. “If you’re going to tease me, pick something that makes sense.”

“Alright.” He grinned. “Shall I bring up your little ladder slide? Or how about-”

“Stop.” Des flushed. She searched for a jab but found nothing.

She didn’t know the real Talon.

“Gemellus told me the story about the Valerian vault.” Talon continued, advancing toward her. “Is it true that you-”

“I was fourteen.”

“And just as adorable apparently.” Talon chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. His face fell abruptly, and he turned on his heel.

Des grabbed his wrist and pulled him back. “I. . .” She searched for something, anything to say. “It’s uncouth to bring a princess this far out. You’ll have to carry me back.”

“Do you delight in being an imp?”

“Charming.” Des corrected. “I think that’s the word you’re looking for.”

“No, I think imp fits,” Talon said. “Shall I throw you over my shoulder and ferry you to safety, my lady?”

“I wouldn’t say no to that.”

Eyes tracing up and down her body, Talon smirked, sliding her hand into his. Their noses were a breath apart. Heat rose in her cheeks, and her breath caught.

Smile slipping, Talon traced his finger across her jaw and leaned in, his breath hot against her lips.

Closing her eyes, Des waited. Talon’s hand traced up her face into her hair, knotting into her waves. He clutched her tightly, tilting her closer. But he did not kiss her.

Unable to hold back any longer, Des grabbed his collar and pressed her lips against his.

Talon turned his head, causing her mouth to graze his cheek. Releasing her hair, he stepped away.

“Why. . .?” Des questioned.

He refused to meet her eyes. “You deserve more. Step out from the shadows and let the world see you. Worthy men will flock to you in droves.”

The titillating heat quenched in utter coldness. “But, I can’t.”

Des was not her own person. She was a fragment of Janus.

Was Des even allowed to pursue a life Janus did not want?

No. Janus’s light shone in the starry sky, and Des but chased her, unseen.

She and Talon were illusions. Shadows, hidden within high walls.

Talon turned back to her, wearing a false smile. “You can. But you’re too stubborn to listen to me. Let’s get back.”

Biting her lip, Des watched him turn away. The wind rustled her cloak, but she no longer felt the cold. Pulling out her dagger, she twirled the hilt between her fingers, hoping to distract herself from the brewing tears.

All that surrounded Des was not hers—shackles bound her to a body that belonged to someone else.