Page 155 of Death of the Glass Angel
Crouching behind the desk, she glanced between the drawers and Alfaris, slowly opening each and peeking through its contents.
The lowest drawer caught her eye—it was locked. Pulling a pin from her hair, she pushed it into the tiny lock, eyes glued to Alfaris’s back.
With a barely audible click, she pulled the drawer open. A beautiful bracelet sat inside, shimmering silver flecked with blue. Wings sprouted from the bulb at its center, angelic yet eerie.
It matched the pendant from the compound. Des reached in to take it, but froze when Alfaris spoke.
“What lies behind the shadow of stars?” The old man murmured. “Do you even realize what you’ve done, Gemellus?”
Des tilted her head, hoping he’d say more. Instead, he turned, black eyes boring through her.
Hastily pushing the drawer shut, Des rose and backed away as Alfaris approached. Not wanting to get caught, she turned and left, hurrying down the hall back to the ballroom.
She noticed her reflection as she passed the mirror. Halting, she stared in horror before whirling around.
And slamming into someone else. A strong hand grabbed her arm, restraining her.
Surprised, Des looked up into a handsome face framed by red curls. Brand.
She tried to wrest from his grip to no avail.
“What are you doing back here?” He spoke in a low, gravelly voice.
“Using the washroom.” Des spat. “Now, if you don’t mind.”
“Barefoot?” He asked, looking down. “First in the tomb, now here. What are you up to? Spying? Or something more sinister?”
“You’ve had a problem with me since the day we met. Care to share what I’ve done to piss you off?”
“I have good reason for it.”
Des stared knowingly into his eyes. “Oh. You know, don’t you? What your mother does.”
“What are you talking about?” His eye twitched.
“What do I do then? I can’t imagine returning to this dreary country—so what earns your ire?”
He laughed. “Decided to speak in riddles, have you?”
“I already know. What sense is there in hiding it?” She stepped closer, and his grip on her arm tightened. “Do I ruin your plans, whatever they are? Or am I just in the wrong place at the wrong time?”
He gritted his teeth but said nothing.
“And I thought cefra were supposed to be close. Who knew you were so callous as to kill your own brother?”
Brand’s grip on her arm tightened, and fire laced his fingers. Pain shot through her as searing heat cut through her skin.
Gasping, Des grabbed her arm, trying to tear his fingers away.
“Do you pretend to be someone you’re not?” Brand growled. “Or do you have no idea who you are?”
Whatever Des had expected him to say—it was not that. What had these people seen?”
Thud. Des felt Brand drop her onto the ground, and she sprawled across the floor. Lifting her head, she saw Brand slam against the far wall, nursing a shoulder. Felsin planted himself between them, rock encasing his fist.
“What are you doing?” He hissed.
“Ask her.” Brand stood, staring daggers at Des. “Whatshewas doing back here?”
