Page 8 of Death of the Glass Angel (Apotheosis #1)

Checking for onlookers, he quickly vaulted a fence, landing in a garden centered by a cascading fountain.

A man leaned on the manor’s back wall, a flask in one hand and a lit cigar in the other.

Messy black hair gathered around his collar, brushing against a thick beard.

Despite the unkempt state of his hair and the bags shadowing his olive skin, his long coat of rich black velvet could only belong to a rich man.

A bright crimson tunic fell to his knees, belted by leather whose buckle was slightly misaligned.

Talon walked past him, leaning on the wall a few paces away. “Good night for bird watching.” He said quietly.

“And I just found one.” The man responded, taking a puff of his cigar before washing it down with whiskey.

Pulling a sealed letter from his satchel, Talon handed it off.

The man tucked his cigar into his mouth and accepted the letter, unsealing it and unfolding the paper.

His amber eyes hastily read the paper, eyebrows rising with every word.

Fire erupted from his palm, engulfing the letter and burning it to ash.

Shaking his hand, the man discarded the detritus.

“Explains why I don’t recognize you.” The man chuckled. “I was expecting old Lark.”

“Lark’s hoping to retire soon,” Talon answered, folding his arms and shifting closer. He had heard much about Dinu from his master, though the smell of alcohol was more pungent than Lark had implied.

“Retire?” Dinu snorted. “He won’t be able to let go of the reins.”

“How was your trip?”

“Oh, better than yours, I’d wager.” He placed the cigar in his mouth, words muffled by its presence. “All kinds of Altanese poured from their homes to swarm my ship. Do you know how many guards we need to keep them off it?”

“More than I can afford,” Talon said. He disliked fire and wasn’t fond of heights. The Dragosi’s new flying ships dealt in both.

“Hm.” Dinu studied Talon curiously. “I heard you came in with the Thuatian lass. Pick up anything I should know on the trip?”

“Not what you might expect,” Talon said. “Assassins tried to kill her on the road. I couldn’t find any identification.”

“Well, shit.” Dinu lowered his arm, letting the cigar stub fall to the floor, and he smudged it with the toe of his boot. “And here I was hoping this would pass quietly. A few squabbles, maybe a couple of tavern brawls. Is she alright?”

“Shaken, but unharmed. We haven’t found trouble since.”

“That’s good at least.” He wrinkled his brow. “Did the girl let slip who might have it out for her?”

“No,” Talon shook his head. “You must have heard the rumors. Princess Janus is a shut-in.”

“So I’ve heard,” Dinu murmured. “Have you heard from Valkyrie?”

“She’s still traveling.”

“I’m sure she’ll find me rather than the other way around.” Dinu shuddered, not looking forward to the meeting. “You know, my date still doesn’t want to go with me. Spots open if you need it.”

Talon chuckled. “I’m going with the Thuatian princess. We became fast friends on the road, you see.”

“Ah. I see.” Dinu replied playfully. He leaned off the wall, groaning as he polished off his flask, mustache scrunching up when he noticed it was empty. “Then I’ll see you at the ball, stranger. Looking forward to meeting you.”

“And you.” Talon offered him a bow, and Dinu responded with a slightly off-balance tilt before he yanked open the manor’s back door and walked inside.

Adjusting his coat and tightening his gloves as a cold wind blew over the garden, Talon loitered, admiring the gorgeous scenery and the wash of white snow powdering the mountain range Weisskopf called home.

He made a mistake. The deep female said behind him.

He made a mistake. The others echoed, the higher-pitched male laughing.

Worried, Talon looked around, hoping the more friendly voice would answer. “What mistake?”

But they did not respond.

Anxious, Talon spun around and left the garden. As he rounded the bend of the manor, he heard someone land behind him, as though they’d jumped from a roof.

Grabbing his dagger, Talon whirled around to find. . .

Janus?

“What was that about?” Janus hissed, her black waves tousling under the breeze.

Talon froze. “Janus? What are you doing here?”

“Following you.” She advanced, forcing Talon backward. “What was that about, then?”

“I went out for a walk.”

Janus halted her advance when Talon’s back struck the alley wall. “I didn’t overhear much. Who were you talking to?”

“I had a chat with the man staying here.” Talon pointed at the manor. “He was out for a smoke. Seemed rude to just ignore him. Friendly guy.”

Grabbing the fold of his coat, Janus pulled him closer. “Quit playing dumb. I want a straight answer out of you for once.”

“Janus, I don’t know what’s come over you. You’ve been antagonistic all day.” Talon adopted a worried expression. “Did I do something to offend?”

The play for sympathy had no effect. “Talon,” Janus said, as though tasting the name. “I hear the Dragosi employ elite spies. They call themselves songbirds and give themselves nicknames. Might yours be one?”

How did she know that? The songbirds of Dragosi were all but unheard of, expertly concealed for decades. “Songbird?” Talon repeated, with feigned confusion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do.” Janus shifted, bringing her face closer to his.

“It makes all too much sense. You follow the naive princess, hoping to win her heart because you know she won’t think anything deeper of it.

She’ll just be happy to finally have a friend.

Then, you can extort her for all she knows and use her to get into all the functions at the Badulf-Esseg. ”

“Are you saying you’ve been putting on an act all this time? Playing dumb?”

Janus paused, biting her lower lip.

Talon took advantage of her brief silence. “You’re jumping at shadows. If I wanted to dig secrets out of you, there are faster and easier ways—most of which involve alcohol.”

“That’s. . . true.” She admitted.

“It’s the attack, isn’t it?” He said softly. “I’d be anxious, too, knowing others might try to finish the job.”

She stepped back, sighing with frustration. “I’m just trying to protect Janus. I can’t let anything hurt her.”

“Janus. . .?” Talon repeated.

Realizing her slip-up, Janus placed her hands on her hips and attempted to change the subject, but Talon beat her to it.

“You’ve been acting differently all day. Noticeably so.” He paused. “You’re not Janus, are you? Not really.”

A guarded expression shadowed her face.

“It’s alright,” Talon said gently. “I. . . think I understand. Kalid mentioned something about the princess seeming to have two different sides.”

Hearing that, she relaxed. “No. I’m not Janus.” She admitted. “I. . . I’ve tried to hide it. That’s why Janus shuts herself away.”

Talon hesitated, eyeing her styled hair and painted eyes. “Would you prefer I call you something else? I-” He laughed breathily. “I think I can tell who’s who.”

She smirked slightly. “I can’t stand it, the veritable sacks Janus wears.” Face softening, she nodded. “I’ll give you my name on one condition.” She paused, tongue rolling around her mouth. “Two conditions.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re handy with a dagger and charming in conversation. Help me dig up information on everyone here.”

“You want me to go spying with you?”

“Yes. And second, speak nothing of me to Janus.” She paused. “To anyone.”

“I’ll keep quiet,” Talon promised.

She nodded reluctantly. “Fine. In that case, you can call me Des.”

“Des,” Talon repeated. “I like it.”