Page 34 of Death of the Glass Angel
A cold breeze stirred the mountainside, fluttering Des’s dress. Humoring him, she glanced up at the stars. Thousands twinkled around the moon, a tiny white orb lost in a sea of darkness.
“Stars.” Des looked back down. “What’s your point?”
“Curious things,” Felsin murmured. “One amongst a million possesses something the others do not. They cast a shadow.” He turned his head, staring at Talon behind them. “Like yours. And his.”
“Do you typically speak in riddles?”
Felsin smiled. “There’s a hunt on in a couple of days. I was asked to extend an invitation to you and Paulus.”
“A hunt?”
“Classic Altanese tradition. Nothing more heartfelt than gifting another a piece of your catch.”
“I’m not much of a hunter.” Des denied.
“Neither am I.” Felsin smiled. “How about a hike, then? Even if you aren’t riding with the men, it would be a shame to miss the valley. And there’s something there I think you’d like to see.”
“I’ll go.” Des narrowed her eyes. “But you haven’t-”
Felsin abruptly walked away, pausing to speak softly in her ear. “We’ll have plenty of time to speak then. I have questions of my own. But they shouldn’t be asked here.”
Before she could think of a response, he was gone, slipping through the palace gates. Talon returned to her side. “Seemed like a fruitful conversation.”
Des opened her mouth to respond, but she had no idea what to say. Nor what to make of the prince’s odd words.
“Now, shall we? If you get caught sneaking out while assassins are after your head. . .” Talon warned, offering his arm.
“Something tells me I have more troubles than mere assassins.” She took his arm.
“A rash?”
“Is that your idea of a joke?”
“Yes.” Talon smiled at her, pupil-less purple eyes nearly as bright as the stars.
He was irritatingly handsome. And he knew it, too.
Before they passed through the palace doors, Des took a final glance at the stars, searching the starry canvas for shadows dancing beneath the starlight.
10
Talon
Humanity has always gazed upon dragons and seen divinity. Strength beyond measure, wisdom and intelligence of unfathomable years. Even the wings on my helm were meant to invoke them.
-Excerpt from Sir Penna’s journal
Talon leaned on the short stone wall overlooking a terrifying descent down the mountain’s slope. A cold wind blew against his back, unpleasant, but preferable to the heat.
He should jump. A low voice whispered.
He should.Another voice agreed.
He survived the last fall.
A fall from this height would either kill him or break all his bones on the descent. But the incessant voices were difficult to ignore.
‘What you hear isn’t real.’ Master Lark had snapped. ‘Block it out.’
