Page 28 of Death of the Glass Angel
“The little shut-in?” The red-haired man interjected before she could finish. “I imagined something quite different when I heard the princess nobody’s seen before would be attending.”
She ground her teeth together. “And what did you imagine?”
“Something more homely.”
Ignoring the slight, Des hurried to end the conversation. “Pleasure to meet you. I didn’t catch your-”
He grabbed her face, tilting her head. “But you’re quite the looker. So what was the real reason your father kept you locked up, then?”
“What are you implying?” Des said as his hand tightened on her chin.
“Princesses aren’t hidden away without good reason.” His scarlet eyes swept her face. “So if it’s not your face, what is it?”
“Brand.” A golden-eyed cefra grabbed the redhead’s hand and yanked it off Des. “Antagonizing someone again? A lady, at that?”
“I’ve never had a lady refuse my touch,” Brand smirked and pulled his hand away.
Biting back choice words, Des glanced between the two men, finally recognizing them. Brand and Felsin, Heras’ sons. Only the similar structure of their nose and brow revealed their relation. Des often forgot that cefran families could each bear a different element. Fire and earth, in this case.
“My apologies.” Felsin bowed his head. “My brother normally waits to get drunk.”
“You’ve been busy,” Brand stepped closer again. “Already the talk of seven tables.”
“Seven? I’d hoped for more.” Des countered.
“Not until rumors of courtship make the rounds. Choose your dance partner wisely. Everyone will notice.”
“Yes,” Felsin said pointedly. “All the more reason for you to stay away.”
“What man in his right mind wouldn’t ask for her hand?” Brand’s eyes lowered to her breasts before rising to her eyes again.
Des strained to see past the surface. Was he like this with every woman, or did he loathe her specifically?
“Well,” Felsin muttered, “You’re typically not in your right mind.”
“Do you have a problem with me, dear brother?”
Des noted a flare of tension between them. So, there was bad blood in the Gaevral family. Good to know.
“I’ll dance with whomever I like.” Des picked up her skirt to leave. “Perhaps you’ll get a turn.”
“Wait,” Felsin called, following her a step. “I’m curious. Do I speak to the princess or the princess’s shadow tonight?”
Des halted in her tracks. “I’m sorry?”
One end of Felsin’s mouth curled upwards. “The shadow, then.” In the silence of her stupor, he walked away.
What had he meant by that? Shaking off the shock, Des hurried to the bar and sat beside Talon.
“He knows something,” Talon whispered, raising his glass.
“So does the Royal Chief,” Des muttered, eyes flicking to the head table. “Did you see the way she looked at me?”
“Like you were an assassin slipped through her bedroom window,” Talon muttered. “Or a corpse still walking.”
“Think we found our assassin?”
“Hard to say. I can’t think of a single reason she’d be out for your head.”
