Page 120 of Death of the Glass Angel
“Do you trust me now?” Felsin blurted out.
“No. This is exactly what I’d do if I wanted to scour someone’s doubt.”
“I guess we’re doomed to rivalry.”
“I guess so.”
Felsin chuckled. “Come on. We’ll miss the carriage.”
Shaking his head, Talon snapped himself out of his stupor. He hadn’t meant what he said. His doubts about Felsin had long since washed away.
His thoughts drifted back to his mother. What would she think of him now?
To know her son thought himself expendable, worthless. . .
Talon could imagine the cracks of grief on her fragile,loving face.
30
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.”
