Accomplice to the Villain (Assistant and the Villain, #3)(122)

Everyone was against him.

Arthur’s plan was the rational choice. Deciding based off emotions when they are so fleeting had always been one of the many reasons Trystan believed humanity was doomed. And here he was, feeding right into it.

“Excuse me.” Sage raised a finger.

Doomed.

“Person he cares for here.” She waved.

Fucking doomed.

Arthur motioned for her to continue; Trystan motioned for her to stop. Guess which one she picked.

“He does not take the risks for me. I take them for myself, and with all due respect, Mr. Maverine, if The Villain says we leave now, then that is when I am leaving.” She was firm, no yelling, no cynicism in the light glide of her voice. There was a gentleness in her ferocity, and Trystan had an ogre of a time keeping the wonder from his eyes.

“Please.” Amara tucked a black strand of hair behind her ear before crossing to the decanter in the corner and pouring herself a hearty sip of what Trystan assumed was rum. Downing it in one gulp, Amara grimaced. “You are mistaken. My oldest son is incapable of caring, truly, for anyone but himself,” Amara said with a contempt Trystan had never understood. What had turned his mother so hateful? So unforgiving? So cruel to her children even before they’d disappointed her? Another crack of thunder sounded, as if Trystan had summoned it.

“Don’t, Mother,” Trystan warned. That thread tethering him to Sage—it was strengthening, and the one tying him to his fears was stretching, thinner and thinner and thinner.

If she kept going, it would snap. And he wouldn’t be able to stop it.

“Why?” Amara laughed, and it was entirely without grace. “It’s true, isn’t it? You told me that last day that you would never feel anything for your family or anyone else ever again. I took you at your word. Or perhaps villains can’t be held to such high standards? I should’ve known the moment I found out I was pregnant with you, you’d turn out exactly like—”

“I LOVE HER!”

The room went to a deadened silence at Trystan’s hard proclamation. He didn’t dare look anywhere but Amara, but he could feel Sage jerking at his side.

Amara’s lips parted. “You love…who?”

“Her!” He gestured in a frustrated rage to Sage, without looking at her; he couldn’t. The words couldn’t travel back into his mind, though. They were out there in the open now. So he continued. “Everything I vowed when you betrayed me—that I’d never feel anything again—it was all useless against her. She weakened every defense you built. The moment I met her and every day since has been irritating, confusing, stifling, frustrating, maddening, and absolute chaos. You cannot say I am incapable of caring for others. I’ve broken every promise I’ve made to myself. I didn’t have a choice”—his voice shook with rage and pain and longing—“in loving her.”

Kingsley hopped on the table, holding up a single sign, little ball and chain dragging behind him.

Finally.

“Trystan?” Sage whispered, and when he finally found the courage to look at her face, her blue eyes were so wide, he could see his reflection in them, frozen, awestruck.

The man looking back at him was wild as he pointed a single finger at her and stated plainly, “I…can’t.” He didn’t wait for her to say anything else, merely yanked the door open, getting doused with warm summer rain. “I’m going for a walk.”

The wet grass slid beneath his feet as he stalked down the hill toward the old barn, approaching the open door. But he didn’t make it farther than that before he was shoved against the hard wood of the barn wall, slicked with water from the storm.

“What in the deadlands,” he gritted out.

A dagger was at his throat.

“Did you think you could escape me so easily, Villain?”





Chapter 75


Evie


“Didn’t you say something about never turning your back on an adversary?” Evie asked, straining on her tiptoes to keep her leverage with her dagger at Trystan’s neck.

She didn’t keep it long.

In a sudden jolt, she was flipped around, landing against the wall. Her dagger was flung inside the open barn door.

“Go away,” Trystan growled, releasing her and stalking inside the quiet, empty barn. “And you are not my adversary; you are my accomplice, remember?”

She stalked in after him. “You can’t just say you love me and then walk away like you were professing devotion to your favorite soup!”

“I don’t like soup.”

Evie screamed into her hands.

“Sage, I am exhausted and hoped to get a few moments’ rest before my mother makes her next homicide attempt on me.” He gestured toward a smaller room off the main barn entrance with a small cot in the corner.

Slow realization dawned, and a horrifying thought took over.

“Did you say it to spite her?”

Trystan’s eyes were sharp on her as he whipped around. “What?”

“Did you say all of that to spite your mother? The love confession, all those things you said about how you feel about me?”

He was silent, and Evie’s heart shattered, splintering, puncturing places in her chest she didn’t know existed until that moment. She was cold, clothes soaked, and her hair was drying in wild ringlets that reflected the frenetic nature of her feelings.