Page 111 of Death of the Glass Angel
“I. . .” Asher froze. Guilt racked him. He had no idea what to say or what had come over him. Mom would be so disappointed.
“Tell me, son. Are you in need of a job?”
“A job?” Asher blinked at the man. “If I’m too young to thieve, aren’t I too young for that, too?”
The rich man smiled, amused. He tugged the purse open and pulled out a gold coin. He flipped it to Asher, who managed to catch it. “What’s your name, kid?”
“Asher.”
“That’s a Thuatian name, isn’t it? You look too pale to be from down there, though.”
“I’m not. My mom’s family is.”
“Why’d she move up to this sun-ridden hellscape?”
“Um.” Asher considered the question. “I dunno.” He answered honestly.
“Well, if she looks anything like you, I bet she’s a fetching lady. Take that back to her and put a smile on her face, will you?” The man said.
“I will,” Asher promised, watching the man turn on his heel and saunter away. “Wait! I didn’t get your name.”
“Lark.”
“Lark?” Asher repeated. “That’s a bird, isn’t it?”
Lark’s smile grew. “That it is.” He said, continuing on his way.
Backing up, Asher muttered to himself. “Mr. Lark.” Repeating the name until he remembered it, he turned and jogged back home. The cookpot needed checking, and mom. ..
Well, Asher was unsure how much time he had left to spend with Mom.
Shaking his head, he cast the thought aside. Mom was going toget better. She was.
28
Talon
There are many things we perceive as real, when they are not. Some people’s minds fracture, leading them to hear people who aren’t there. Others split their very being into pieces. And for others, this truth is much simpler. In my mind I fostered an image of the woman I thought I was. In the mirror of Gemellus’ gaze I eventually accepted the truth.
-Excerpt from Sir Penna’s private journal
Talon kicked his feet up on the table, idly flipping a coin in his left hand. A powdery snow fell outside the window, signaling the approach of winter. The anniversary of Mom’s death approached. The one day of the year when Talon was simply Asher again.
He didn’t miss the name. No future had awaited that boy, a commonplace, no-name peasant from Clodia’s slums. Yet he’d been so optimistic his life would turn around. And in an evening, it came crashing down.
Snow reminded Talon of death. It had fallen like heavy rain the day she passed.
Valkyrie sat opposite him, a mug of warmed cider in hand. “How’s the arm?”
“Fine.” Talon lied. It hurt like hell.
He stretched his fingers under the table—even such simple motions brought agony. Skin did not regrow on its own. Yet another scar Talon would bear for the remainder of his life.
He’s missing something. A voice called behind him.
He missed it.A woman said outside the window.
Talon jerked his head, staring at the curtains. “I know I’m missing something.” He muttered.
