Page 26 of Death of the Glass Angel
Des certainly was pretty. Talon caught himself staring at her, watching her brush a curled bang from her tawny skin, a coy smile tugging at her lips. Her gown hugged her figure like the silk had been crafted for her curves.
Snapping himself out of his trance, Talon eyed the plates of roasted meats and pungent-smelling sauces. His eyes trailed up and down the table, landing on the picture of ghastly fashion.
Formless, puffy sleeves of bright flowery pattern peeked out from beneath a knee-length jerkin of deep blue fabric on a tall, muscular woman. Her hand reached back to adjust her long, blonde hair before she bounced excitedly on her heels and marched toward the bar. If Talon was not mistaken, that was Avalon, the fourth child of Athelstan’s ruling family.
Or, third, after an accident two years ago had claimed one of her brothers. Two rumors circulated about Avalon: she had not inherited her family’s evoking bloodline, and she was an outstanding knight.
Honest and uncontroversial. Des could handle her.
* * *
“Uh oh.” Dinu breathed, pushing his glass away from him.
“What’s the matter?” Des asked.
“It’s coming right at us.” He answered, pushing the glass further away.
“It?” Des repeated, following his gaze.
Driving through the crowd as easily as a scythe cut wheat, a blonde woman in Athelstani fashions marched toward them, her bright blue eyes fixated on Dinu with unbridled fury. A fury that lessened considerably when the woman noticed Des. Her steps slowed, her posture straightened, and the scowl softened into a slight smile.
“Ah, Princess Janus.” A high, strong voice emerged from the woman. “I was hoping to meet you tonight.”
“Ahem.” Dinu cleared his throat. “This is Avalon, Janus.” He pushed the drink another few inches away, and Avalon noticed, her strong, slightly hooked nose turning up at him. “Third heir to Athelstan,” He continued, “Expert jouster, brilliant knight, exceptional cook. . .”
“Go on.” Avalon prompted.
“Incomparable beauty, staggering wit. . .” Dinu continued. “Well, maybe not that last one.”
Shaking her head, Avalon offered Des a stiff bow. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Pray ignore him.”
“Oh, he’s been fine company so far.” Des waved a hand. “Are you here by yourself?”
“Yes. My eldest brother welcomed a child recently, and the other is newlywed, so they’re occupied.” Avalon explained.
Dinu reached for his drink before flinching and retracting his hand, pretending to neatly knit his fingers together before him. Avalon watched his movements carefully but with a hint of affection. These two had a storied history, by the looks of things.
“You’re an unknown.” Avalon directed her attention to Des. “Everyone knows your brother, but you’re rather sheltered, aren’t you?I could accompany you, take you to meet the prominent nobility before they realize who you are, and ambush you.”
“I was doing that.” Dinu protested.
“Yes, from the bar, pointing at people without actually speaking with them.” Avalon tutted. “Proper socializing is done face to face, with words rather than booze. Now,” She smiled at Des. “Shall we?”
“I’ll follow your lead.” Des stood from her seat and joined the woman’s side.
“Hmph.” Dinu shrugged. “You two have fun.”
“We intend to,” Avalon responded, gently guiding Des from the bar. “My apologies, your first encounter was with that oaf,” She said quietly. “The rest of us have a modicum of decorum.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble at all,” Des assured her, glancing back.
A glint lit Dinu’s eye as he picked up his drink and skimmed over the dance floor again. Something told Des he was no oaf, and something else informed her Avalon did not mean what she said.
* * *
Had the assassins been utterly unrelated to politics? Talon had circled the dance floor four times and caught no hint of unusual activity. Business deals, marriage proposals, gossip circles. . .
A few whispered about the attack at the inn, but none responded with feigned ignorance.
