Page 59 of Death of the Glass Angel (Apotheosis #1)

Talon

Let not the stalwart mind forfend

The darkest desires of your heart

Talon watched the play unfold below him, reciting Heras’ cryptic conversation in his head, hoping to make sense of it.

Codes were impossible to crack unless you held the key—and Talon certainly didn’t. Reaching under his coat, he brushed his hidden dagger. He would not have chosen tonight to silence Heras, but it sounded like she had plans for tonight—plans he would not let unfold.

Dinu leaned on the banister beside him, a mug of ale dangling over the seats below. He ran a hand through his hair. “What a mess.”

Idly fixing his hair, Talon chuckled. He’d spent the hours deciding what his report to Lark would say. His master was a realist—the chances of him believing in seers who could glean fate numbered close to zero.

Even Valkyrie found it hard to believe. Wouldn’t anyone?

Armor clanked as Avalon joined them, dressed in full steel. “Have you seen Brand?”

Talon shoved off the banister. “With his mother, when they entered.”

“He’s gone.”

“Why does that worry you?” Dinu asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know.” She admitted. “But it does. I just don’t trust anyone from that family. And Brand’s. . .changed, since last we met.”

“I’ll look for him.” Talon offered. If Brand had left. . .

Heras was alone.

“Head downstairs,” Avalon ordered. “I’ll take this level.”

She strode off, cape trailing behind her. Nodding at Dinu, Talon trotted down the hall, heading for the Royal Chief’s private box.

Janus’ viewing room was heavily guarded—the girl would be safe during the show. Eyes flicking over her door and soldiers, Talon ensured all was calm before moving on.

A hand caught his elbow and spun him around. Valkyrie stepped from a dark corner, red bangs hanging low over her eyes. “Where are you going?”

“Val.” Talon stepped back. “Why are you lurking here instead of sitting with Paulus?”

“Because I can’t watch everything from there.”

“I’m-” Talon cut off.

He glimpsed someone in his peripheral vision and turned to see a white-haired man rounding the corner. Black robes trailed after him, and a peculiar card was clutched between two fingers of his extended hand.

Golden scales stood out against a black background. The Goddess’ Judgment. One of Felsin’s fortune-telling cards.

“Talon?” Valkyrie asked.

“Find Brand,” Talon ordered. “Search the lower levels.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.” Talon barked, running after Alfaris.

Smoke rose from the stage, and gasps rose from the crowds. Alfaris stood in the middle of the hall, card held up. With a flick of his wrist, it vanished into a million particles of light, like a star had exploded.

The floor heaved beneath Talon’s feet as fire erupted, catching the opera house in an unchecked blaze. The ceiling shook, cracks streaking along the stone.

Panic rose in his throat like bile as he lost his footing and the end of his coat caught alight. Catching his balance, he looked up to see Alfaris walking away.

Choking on the suddenly thick smoke, Talon rose and trudged after Alfaris, avoiding the deepening cracks in the floor and the spreading fire. Screams rose from below.

Creaking metal sounded above Talon’s head as a jagged sheet of bronze broke away from the ceiling and tumbled toward him.

Bronze? This entire theatre was made of gray stone. Where had. . .

Reflective water shot across the carpeted halls, white tendrils dancing beneath it like phantom hands. They broke from the water to catch the sheet of metal before it landed on Talon and tossed it aside.

Talon stepped back as the bronze sheet crumpled against the wall. That thing was here.

“Talon.” Gemellus hauled him up. “Are you alright?”

“Why are you here? Where’s Janus?”

Panic tore through Gemellus’ strained voice. “I don’t know. I can’t see her.”

“You can’t-” Talon froze.

Those white tendrils, the reflective water. . .

“You.” He ripped out of Gemellus’ grip. “It was you.”

Gemellus composed himself quickly. “Kill an evoker and the spell ends. This way.” He shoved Talon forward.

Talon had a dagger. What was he supposed to do against Alfaris? His questions for Gemellus would have to wait—they had a common foe. Weaving through the flame and rubble, he trained his mind to calm. To quiet. To ignore the burning tracing down his back.

He’s missing it.

He’s going to die.

Fire!

Talon dashed around another bend to see Alfaris waiting for them. Shadows collected in Gemellus’ hand, forming into a spear of night. It streaked through the fire toward Alfaris’ heart.

Another card appeared between Alfaris’ fingers. A great orb of white, twinned in the night. The Moon.

White light enveloped them, blinding Talon and destroying the shadows fueling Gemellus’ spear. A fire raged to life as the spell faded.

“So this is your doing.” Gemellus spat. “I thought so.”

“Not entirely.” Alfaris corrected.

Gemellus cursed, shoving Talon forward. “Find Heras.”

The bastard had pushed Talon toward the terrifying old man.

“The Hermit and the Hierophant.” Alfaris sounded downright excited. “Shall we? It’s been some time since we last danced.” He flicked another card between his fingers and drew his blade.

Talon glimpsed only the bright gold of a sun on the card’s black surface before it vanished into tiny spheres of light.

A monster appeared in its place. A winged warrior materialized mid-flight, its great spear pulled back to strike.

Perfect white skin concealed its facial features, and gleaming golden armor encased its being. It lunged upon Talon, aiming for his throat.

A well of darkness rose from the carpet, transforming into the gaping maw of some horrible creature. It snapped down on the winged knight, yanking it away from Talon, and throwing it against the wall.

A crater appeared where the winged soldier impacted. The shadow creature lunged from its pool of gloam, talons gleaming ebony as tattered wings spread on its back. Talon slid beneath them as the two clashed.

This was not evoking. Who were these people?

Gemellus dashed forward, interrupting Alfaris before he could reach Talon. The flickering shadow spear blocked the swing of Alfaris’ long, thin blade.

“Go!” Gemellus shouted.

Turning away, Talon leaped over a piece of rubble, pulling his dagger loose. He nearly slammed into a pair of nobles fleeing for the stairs, pushing past them to reach the private box Heras had been seated in.

The guards were gone. Only Heras remained, standing alone amidst the fire and debris, calm.

She turned to look at Talon as he approached, hard iron eyes emotionless. A flash of silver drew his gaze to her wrist, where a beautiful winged bracelet looped her arm.

Between two fingers, she clutched a card. A great tower rose from a cataclysm, wings sprouting from the clock at its peak.

She could use Alfaris’ magic, too.

Aiming for her throat, Talon threw his dagger. She dropped her card. It fluttered to the ground, dissipating into light.

The world shook, like a god had smashed its fist into the ceiling above Talon’s head. He fell to a knee, and his dagger flew off course, striking Heras in the shoulder.

She winced as the blade dug into her flesh, drawing blood. Talon reached for another dagger, but lost control of his arm. Agony streaked through him as the anmarite bracer thrummed.

Heavy weight slammed into his back, throwing him face-first into the floor. A man planted his knee into Talon’s spin and pressed an axe to his throat.

Brand’s voice sounded small beneath the incessant thrumming. “So the assassin reveals himself.”

Pressing a hand to her wound, Heras’s iron gaze fell upon them. “We need to go.” She said desperately.

Talon’s mind raced as Brand hauled him up.

Gemellus had lost sight of Janus. Of Des. Did that mean she was safe, or had something far worse befallen her?

Damn his mission or duty. Talon would not let Des die here.

Slamming his elbow into Brand’s side, Talon twisted out of his grip. Lightning surged through the anmarite bracer, bursting from his fingertips and slamming into Brand’s chest, throwing him against the wall.

Drawing a hidden dagger from his boot, Talon threw it at Brand’s chest, but the prick regained his balance and deflected the steel with his axe. Diving forward, Talon retrieved his weapon in time to parry Brand’s oncoming strike.

Steel rang against the backdrop of destruction as they traded blows. Stepping back, Brand raised his axe to bring down on Talon’s head.

Spinning out of its path, Talon raked his dagger across Brand’s thigh and slipped behind him, kicking the back of his knee. Brand sank, and Talon grabbed his collar, pressing his blade to the exposed skin at Brand’s neck.

“Something drives a hatred in you for Janus.” Talon hissed. “Tell me what.”

A trickle of blood ran down Brand’s throat as he laughed hoarsely. “Wouldn’t you hate someone who takes everything? Who was given a chance to save everything and chose instead to destroy it?”

“Speak plainly.” Talon barked.

“You’re not part of this. Don’t you understand?” Brand’s eyes flashed. “You’re nothing.”

Felsin described a carousing brother—a responsible man who took his job seriously and was fun to drink with. What drove the change into cruelty?

Power. In Talon’s life, power had always been the answer. Dangle a hint of wealth, of alluring flesh, of power before their eyes, and the most pious soul would cave. Always.

“You want more than Altanbern’s crown.” Talon realized.

Brand’s eyes blazed with fire—Talon had struck the truth. Flames erupted around them. Smoke filled Talon’s lungs and heat singed his skin as a wall of fire encircled him.

Fire!

He’s going to die.

Not again.

The opera house vanished into white. Talon was a child again, frightened and alone, searching for the hatch in his window as flames licked at his back.

The house his mother died in burned to the ground, killing the last of her memory. Killing Asher. Creating Talon.

His anmarite arm hummed. The flames grew, reaching the ceiling. A shadow marched through the fire, axe raised, and brought it down on Talon’s head.