Accomplice to the Villain (Assistant and the Villain, #3)(11)
Until she heard a creaking sound above.
“Ms. Sage! Look out!” Marv cried, tugging Evie to the ground just out of range of a collapsing air vent cover, falling down atop her and guarding her body with his own. The metal clanged against the stone floor with a ringing so loud that the door it had collapsed in front of swung open.
Trystan’s room.
“What the blazes was that?” Trystan roared, shirtless and disheveled, freezing when he spotted Marv atop Evie just a few feet away. “Marv.”
Marv looked skittish and frightened. “Yes, sir?”
“Get off her now. If you please.” Marv scrambled off of her, and Trystan was already at her side, tugging her to her feet.
“Don’t be rude to him,” Evie scolded. “He just saved me from being squished.”
Marv frowned down at the screws, connecting something Evie had already started to. “Hey. These screws… Did someone try to unscrew the vent? But why?”
“To squish me on purpose,” Evie guessed, remembering the manor’s collapsed ceiling a while back and its perfectly intact screws somehow coming loose.
“Or me,” Trystan rumbled beside her, coming to the same conclusion. “Marv. Whose tools are these?”
Marv’s eyes dipped, saddened. “I don’t recall. The crate was left out for any items to be discarded in the office. It’s been sitting there all night, sir. I should’ve been more vigilant; shall I gather the workers for questioning? Or you could question me!” Marv offered generously, always eager to assist.
“Not necessary, Marv. I’ll find the answers on my own,” Trystan stated, and Evie felt her hackles rise.
“I could help,” she argued.
Trystan shut his eyes tight, releasing a breath before returning to his chambers, muttering as he walked…
“No. You can’t.”
Chapter 6
Evie
“She just needs time, Mama,” Evie assured her mother later that morning as Nura paced the length of Evie’s new office. What had once been a mere brightly lit corner alcove had been converted into an open and cheery little space. Her white desk, which Trystan had once thrown a body across, was now pushed up against the window so that the light delightfully warmed her skin while she worked. Every morning, a bouquet of white roses appeared upon her desk, as well as a new tin of vanilla candies—the first from Marv, the second from Edwin. Small touches of kindness that felt like the grandest of gestures were often Evie’s favorite. It meant someone was thinking of you at the most ordinary times of the day and sought somehow to improve yours. It created an air of sweetness to mask the bitter feeling of being shoved off to the corner like a child in a time-out.
She’d made the effort to adorn the windows with small blue and white paper butterflies Lyssa had made the day Evie was “banished.” It had been Lyssa’s attempt to make the distance between Evie and The Villain seem like a happy change. Except Evie was afraid the only change it invoked was her new and sudden alarming disdain for butterflies.
Nura stood by the other window, leaning against it and running her fingers gently down the stained glass. “I know. I’m sure this is all very frightening for her. I suppose I just wish she’d be more like you in that regard.” There was pride in her voice as she walked toward where Evie sat. She leaned over the desk to place both hands upon her cheeks, looking into her face with a gratefulness Evie did not deserve. “You accepted me again right away.” A tear ran down Nura’s face. “My sweet girl and her sweet smile.”
You could fix a broken world with just your smile.
The tears stinging Evie’s eyes were not ones of joy, because those words her mother had told her so long ago…they no longer felt like a compliment.
But she smiled anyway.
Just in case.
“Lyssa’s been dealing with a lot of change lately. I can’t blame her for not coping well with another. Especially one so confusing.” Evie kept her gaze down at her desk, moving her head away from her mother’s hands, refocusing on the notes in her journal she’d taken the morning before, meager bits of the old man’s memories she’d written down at the tavern. Pieces of Rennedawn’s storybook prophecy.
Keys, windows, and something about a door and a stain?
Then again…he had been chained up by the owner for public drunkenness…and he had been trying to escape…
Keys, windows, door, stain.
With a loud groan, Evie let her forehead fall against the open gold-foiled notebook.
“Why is it confusing?” Nura asked, her voice distant as Evie contemplated the question.
Slowly picking up her head, furrowing her brow, she said, “What?”
“Why do you think my return is so confusing for Lyssa?” Nura asked, her head leaned forward like she knew the answer, like she was preparing to hear it but needed Evie to say it aloud.
“Well—” Please don’t make me do this. Don’t force me to be strong in this moment. Not when I’ve earned the right to curl up and cry.
Her mother was alive and whole. Evie needed to be grateful, needed to accept that the pain and resentment of the past didn’t matter any longer. Her head knew this, but her heart was twisting so hard in her chest that she felt nauseous.
Nura’s face grew solemn. “Evangelina, I am not fragile. My magic has been dormant since I returned, and my head is clear. I can handle the truth.”