Accomplice to the Villain (Assistant and the Villain, #3)(102)

She snorted. “Yeah, right.” She gripped the handle and tugged. The door didn’t budge. The Villain had known her for too long and too deeply to believe that she’d stay put.

She jiggled the handle again, burning anger boiling her blood until her face flushed and her neck prickled with heat. She banged the door with a fist. “YOU SON OF A BITCH, TRYSTAN! LET ME OUT!”

The Villain had locked her in.





Chapter 63


Kingsley


“Where’s Evie?” Clare Maverine asked warily as Trystan tore across the upper deck with severe purpose, Kingsley leaping just ahead of him.

“I locked her in the barracks.”

Kingsley stopped to slap a webbed foot to his head.

“Oh.” Clare licked her lips and scratched at her brow. “I’m sure I shouldn’t ask, but, uh…why?”

“Tatianna!” Trystan growled, reaching the healer in two long strides, and both women backed up a few steps at his glare.

Kingsley struggled to pick up a sign to write Don’t—but by the time he finished holding it up, he was too late.

Clare had already pulled the green ink bottle out on instinct, grabbing the little ball at the end, squeezing and spraying the liquid right into Trystan’s eyes.

Green ink, despite the color match, had nothing to do with Alexander’s skin. From what he observed, it tended to burn—very badly. Trystan grabbed his eyes and howled, “Clare!”

Tatianna gaped at her. “Clarissa, have you lost hold of your senses? Why did you do that?”

Clare sheepishly put the bottle back into her pouch and held up her hands. “I’m sorry! I panicked! It was my first thought when I saw him coming toward you!”

Trystan growled in her direction, eyes red and swollen. “To blind me?”

Captain Jones sighed, “Oh, Tati, every day I regret not giving you a sibling.”

“Based on this?” Tatianna waved a hand at them sardonically. “How could you not?” she deadpanned, flicking a pink nail at her father’s shoulder, then setting her hands aglow with yellow light, hovering them over Trystan’s face until the swelling was reduced.

Trystan blinked his dark eyes until they focused on Clare. “What? Hating me is not enough any longer? We’ve resorted to brazen violence?”

Clare didn’t hate Trystan. Alexander knew this to be true, but there wasn’t much he could do. The way these people threw words at each other, it was hardly fair to expect a frog to keep up.

No matter how much he wished to.

“I don’t hate you. Please don’t say that,” Clare whispered, and Alexander hopped atop her shoulder and patted it, hoping to give at least some comfort to his sisterlike friend.

Trystan’s entire face fell. “I was being hyperbolic, Clare. I am The Villain. You were only doing what your instincts told you when approached by someone dangerous.”

His shoulders pushed back, all the emotion hidden away once again.

Trystan addressed Tatianna’s father. “May I speak with you alone for a few moments, Captain Jones?”

Jellyfish Jones’s head knocked back in surprise, but he nodded, motioning for Trystan to follow him to the front of the ship.

And Alexander watched Clare—who watched Trystan with no small amount of regret. “That hurt him.”

Kingsley managed a sign this time.

Yes

Tatianna tilted her head at Clare’s words. “And that hurt you in turn, it seems. Interesting.” The dock had become a speck in the distance as the ship pushed onward to the horizon. The breeze was minimal, and the sun on Kingsley’s neck made him want to flop to his stomach and take another nap. He’d been taking many naps lately, his curse beginning to take a physical toll beyond just the animal transformation.

Clare didn’t seem to feel the same about the heat as she pushed her short locks back, attempting to pin them up, huffing in frustration when they kept slipping.

Tatianna’s eyes sparkled with amusement, reaching a hand out for the pins. “Let me.”

Clare blinked but spun slowly, allowing Tatianna to do the task for her, and Alexander felt his mind wander to when he had been human. When he could make his friends laugh with a single comment, when he could make a woman swoon with a flowery compliment and a friendly tip of his chin. How devoid he was now of who he used to be.

How tired he was.

He would nap again, he thought. He would close his eyes and—

Alexander’s thoughts were cut off—by a cannonball.

A literal cannonball.

The clang of the shot caused a ringing in his tiny ears as the weapon crashed through the surface of the ship, cracking wood in half as it fell to the rooms in the middle of the vessel.

“Sage!” Trystan yelled from a distance, scrambling forward, dropping to his knees right where the hole was.

Clare and Tatianna followed amid frantic yells from the men around them, Jones calling quick orders.

Before Clare and Tatianna reached Trystan, his shoulders sagged and he blew out a breath. “Thank the gods,” Trystan muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Evie, are you all right?” Tatianna called as they all looked down into the large cannonball-made hole, where Evie stood, arms folded and tapping her foot as she stared at it, then looked up at Trystan in stern rebuke.