Accomplice to the Villain (Assistant and the Villain, #3)(104)

Roland mouthed later at Marv, and the guard turned crimson as Roland put his hands in his pockets and strutted up the stairs.

Brothers are a punishment from the gods to test one’s patience.

“Marv,” Becky snapped. “When you’re done inspecting my brother’s hindquarters, might you tell me what was so urgent?”

Marv jumped, sputtering as he addressed her. “It’s F-Fluffy, Ms. Erring.” He shook his head.

Her stomach sank to the vicinity of her toes. “What do you mean? What about Fluffy?”

“The dragon is restless like we’ve never seen. He ate Morey!”

Becky’s lip curled in disgust. “Uck. The new raven mail clerk?” He’d been horrid, handsy, and rude, looking about the office as if everyone was below him. “No accounting for taste. The poor animal will have an unsettled stomach.”

He shook his head quickly. “No, Ms. Erring, you don’t understand. The animal’s acting out and—”

“Enough!” Becky yelled. “I do not have time for these petty problems. Tell the Malevolent Guards to sort it. Or for once, instead of screaming problems about the office, you might try solving one for yourself!”

His eyes went glassy, and Becky felt a bit like she’d just kicked a puppy.

“Marv, I’m—”

The guard wrung his hands, not looking away from his boots. “You’re right, Ms. Erring. I will solve this problem myself. I promise.”

“Marv!” Becky called after him, but he was gone by the time she had followed him up the stairs.

Her shoulders wouldn’t stop shaking despite the immediate heat she felt when she closed the cellar door. She stumbled toward the kitchen half in a daze, vision blurred by the tears forming in her eyes. She flopped down at the kitchen table and did something she vowed to never do at work.

She laid her head on the table and began to cry.

So distraught was she, she didn’t notice Lyssa slipping in and placing something in her lap, and when Becky looked down, she choked on a sob. Her knit dragon from childhood that Blade had pilfered from her desk, albeit unintentionally, and given to Lyssa, sat there, tattered and alone.

Just like her.

She rubbed her eyes, pressing her palms into them, trying to stop it. “I’m sorry. I can’t seem to keep myself together today.”

Lyssa whispered, as if imparting some great secret Becky was unaware of, “You don’t have to, Ms. Erring. Crying means you’re brave.”

Becky removed her hands and angled her watery gaze down at the little girl who seemed youthful and wise all at once. “Who told you that?”

Lyssa shrugged, taking one of Becky’s hands and squeezing gently. “No one. It just seems to me that someone who feels their feelings out in the open is braver than someone who hides them.”

Becky squeezed her hand back, smiling through her tears. “Well, I can’t argue with you there.”

“Good. Now you may be alone if you wish, or I’ll just sit right here in case you change your mind.”

They sat there silently while Becky worried over Blade while doing the bravest thing any person could do.

She cried.

And cried.

And cried.





Chapter 65


The Villain


Trystan was no longer surprised when things got worse; he was more surprised when they didn’t.

“Fire!” Captain Jones screamed, and a cannonball flew at the pirate ship, hitting starboard. They were close enough that Trystan could see the pirates scrambling from the impact and hear them yelling.

“Fire!” Another of their cannonballs flew, hitting the pirate ship harder as it drifted closer.

The pirates began to swing from ropes onto their deck, leaping right into the fray, the crews clashing with steel and fists.

Trystan had had enough.

If there was any time for you to obey me, this would be it, he reasoned with his magic. His magic. Magic that was meant to be under his command was now something he needed to approach politely with patient requests. “If you don’t mind.” He gritted his teeth, and his magic—or the curse, or the plague on Rennedawn, something—had a sick sense of humor, because it listened.

Dark mist flooded over the first man in Trystan’s path, a pirate with a red bandanna over his head and a beard so long it touched the middle of his chest. The man’s foot was alight in vibrant red, the pulse in his jugular glowing black. With one flick of Trystan’s wrist, he could kill him, but another injury lit up in a new place Trystan had never seen. A vibrant rainbow color, iridescent in appearance, over the man’s heart.

To kill the man would be to snuff that color out completely, and Trystan found the idea of destroying anything that resembled Sage…unfathomable.

“I’m sick of being nice,” Trystan grumbled, flicking his magic at the man’s foot instead of his neck and rolling his eyes as the man dropped to the ground, crying out in agony. “Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome.” Trystan waved at the man, moving past him to Clare and Tatianna, fighting with careless ease.

Clare tossed out more green ink, splashing it into three men’s eyes at once. Joyously, it seemed. Her cheering being the first clue.

A large pirate approached Trystan with a yellowed grin. “I’m gonna bring your head to Benedict on a pike.”