Page 122 of Death of the Glass Angel
“Mhm. Valkyrie’s scouting the other pass.” Talon answered. “But I don’t think anything will happen. She has it out for you. And you’re safe here, with me.”
“Are you my guardian now?”
“I’ve saved you a time or two, haven’t I?” Talon folded his arms, resting his injured limb atop the other. “We can head back if you’re tired.”
A smudge of orange appeared on the horizon: the sunrise. Des loitered beside Talon, scanning the shadows. A hawk soared overhead, disturbing the peace.
They were alone and far from company. There wasn’t a more perfect opportunity.
Des looked up at Talon. “So, what’s being a songbird like?”
“Hm.” Talon’s nose wrinkled. “Tiring. Sometimes you sit around for ages, other times you never sleep.”
“You carry a lot of lockpicks. Do you carry out heists often?”
“Sometimes.” Talon laughed. “I usually just talk to people. You can learn a lot by convincing them you’re a friend.”
As a child, Des had imagined a much more exciting life. Now that she had aged, Talon’s methods did seem altogether more. . . practical. “Well, you talked to me. Did you learn what you wanted?”
“Yes. You’re an interesting woman, Janus Vallides.”
Talon turned to leave, but Des touched his arm, asking him to stay. “What about you?”
“What about me?” Talon asked, skimming the pass attentively.
“You’ve learned everything about me. Fair’s fair.”
“And life’s a bitch.” Talon said, turning on his heel.
Des grabbed his arm and spun him around. “You asked what I wanted to know? I’ve come up with a few questions. Can we talk for a moment?”
“In such delightful scenery?”
“Here.” Des reached into her bag and pulled out the two bottles Dinu had gifted her the night before. “Care to share?”
“Des, the sun hasn’t risen, and you want to drink?”
“We have naught but a carriage ride awaiting us. Sleep it off.”
Talon’s eye caught the fanciful labeling on the bottle. “Lavinian ale? Why didn’t you say so?” Taking a bottle, he sat on a nearby ledge.
Removing her bottle’s cork with a satisfying pop, Des sipped the earthy brew. The strength of the liquor took her off guard, and she coughed.
Talon took a long drink and crossed his legs. “Where do you want me to start?”
“What’s your real name, for one?”
“Hm.” Talon chuckled. “Try again.”
Studying him like a puzzle, Des attempted to stitch together a question he would actually answer. “Where did you grow up?”
“Clodia,” Talon replied. “In a nice house, on a nice street. White stone. Old. Covered in ivy, my mother liked to cultivate.”
“Were you close to them?”
“To my mother. My father was about average, I suppose. He loved Mom, so he tolerated me.” Talon frowned slightly. “Nothing interesting happened if that’s what you’re getting at. I had a small gang of friends, and we got into trouble as kids do.”
“I’m not trying to uncover your darkest secrets.” Des tsked. “I’m trying to get to know the real Talon.”
