Accomplice to the Villain (Assistant and the Villain, #3)(101)

Captain Jones waved a hand, nearly dragging Tatianna to steer. Clare followed dutifully behind them, and Kingsley hopped onto Captain Jones’s shoulder, holding up a sign.

Missed

“Oh, I missed you, too, Alexander,” Jones said, fondly patting the top of the frog’s head.

So much love. Unconditional and unfettered. It was so beautiful and—

So far out of reach.

“The restroom, Sage? I have to go very badly.” Trystan’s words sounded clipped and strange, even by Evie’s standards.

“You can’t wait until we’re farther out into the water?” she asked. “And why do I need to escort you?”

Some of the crew, who up until then had been busy with other tasks, watched The Villain now with shrewd curiosity. “No…I ate some bad…turnips.”

Evie felt with an intense confidence that The Villain had never touched a turnip.

She followed him anyway.

The laughter from the crew was clearly at Trystan’s expense. He didn’t seem to care. Just strutted like he hadn’t insinuated that his bowels were on the verge of exploding as he climbed down the narrow stairs, holding his hand out for Evie’s, the skin-to-skin contact sending shock waves up her arm.

His fingers tightened on hers as he pulled her down the narrow hallway, walking with the confidence of someone who knew the space well.

“Sir, you know I’m a proponent of oversharing, but your restroom habits are taking it a little far even for meee—” She squealed as he tugged her into a little room filled with empty hanging bunks in neat rows.

He was stern when he faced her, his beautiful face hard and cold. She shivered and held her arms, feeling his dark eyes penetrate her skin and prick at the edges of her heart. “You seemed to need privacy. I didn’t wish to embarrass you by pointing it out.” The explanation wasn’t delivered with depth of feeling or flourish. It was matter-of-fact and logical.

The only man, surely, who could make reason sound so heart-wrenchingly romantic.

“I’m being selfish,” she admitted, knowing he wouldn’t judge her, knowing he was the safest person in the world for her to express even her darkest thoughts. “Tatianna’s father is wonderful, and she deserves a parent like that. I was just overwhelmed by it… By the abysmal affection I’ve settled for all my life. I feel embarrassed.”

No, she ordered herself, tilting her head up, blinking hard at the ceiling, focusing on the chipped wood and the gentle rocking of the ship.

“Sage.” She watched in her peripherals as he glanced up at the ceiling as well. “Are you looking for something up there? Or are you suffering from sudden neck stiffness?” he asked dryly.

She laughed even as the tears burned, and she furiously blinked them back. “I’m so tired of crying. I’m hoping this sucks them back behind my eyes.”

Warm hands clasped her cheeks, and she could only stare in awe as they tilted her chin back down to the floor. His mouth was tight, but his brow was furrowed, his eyes searching. “Cry.” Her body followed the order, as if he commanded her faculties and not she. “And if anyone says a word to make you feel ashamed of it, I’ll drown them in the shallow puddle your tears make.” He gave her a sly grin. “I hear drowning is the most painful way to die.”

She giggled through her blurred vision, wiping gently at her cheek with one hand and playfully shoving him with the other. “You remember me saying that in the Heart Village?”

“I remember everything you say.” The slyness was gone, and only sincerity remained—and the ache of everything she felt for the man before her.

She brought a tentative hand up to his face, and he froze. The stubble of his chin sending tingles into her palm, she rubbed a thumb across the top of his cheekbone and said, “This might be the greatest birthday gift I’ve ever been given.”

The moment shattered into tiny pieces at the look on his face. “What!”

She stumbled back from the outraged proclamation. What had she said wrong?

Don’t… Don’t…not know what you did wrong, Evie!

Oh, even for me that’s too much.

“What? What did I say?” she screeched.

“It’s not your birthday.” He sliced a hand through the air, as if he could slash the words in half.

Evie looked left to right just to be sure there was no one hiding in the wings, waiting to jump out and yell, “Gotcha!”

But no one was there. This wasn’t a prank, just the normal everyday nonsense that her life had become.

“It…is,” she said carefully. “Do you find birthdays particularly triggering? Is it the cake? The balloons?” She gasped, gripping his arm. “Oh, sir, are you afraid of balloons?”

“No, Sage!” he roared.

She nodded solemnly. “Birthday jesters, then.”

“I’m not afraid of jesters!”

Kingsley’s chained cuff clanged in seemingly out of nowhere with a sign that read:

Liar

“Get out, you snoop!” Trystan yelled, opening the door, and Kingsley stuck out his long tongue before moving at a snail’s pace to get away. “Fucking frog.” He rubbed his temples and turned to her, and the ferocity in his expression made her stumble away until her back hit the wall. “Stay here,” he ordered, following Kingsley, slamming the door behind him.