Accomplice to the Villain (Assistant and the Villain, #3)(125)

“Yes,” Trystan said without explanation.

“They’re holding hands.” The quiet mouse of a voice came from the straggler they’d nearly had to drag into the back of the covered wagon. Winnifred, the wand wielder, the enchantress’s daughter, the hater of frogs.

Trystan’s hand was indeed wrapped around Evie’s, his body angled protectively toward hers, brushing his lips against the top of her head, seeming to relish the small smile it brought to her lips. “Yes, we are holding hands. Does anyone take issue with that?” he asked, warning in his voice, and everyone in the wagon exchanged a look before raising their hands in surrender.

All except Winnifred, who remained distant, inching away anytime Alexander stumbled closer. A new experience for someone as previously charming as he. The carriage halted then, and after Arthur called the all clear, the group of them spilled out.

The barrier around the southern kingdom was hardly discernible to the naked eye, but the light of day revealed a natural glow around the gate, spreading to the tops of the trees and over the entirety of the kingdom beyond, glittering a slight green sheen. Like grass or leaves, or a—

Evie gestured to the side gate with the southern kingdom’s emblem on it. “Their crest is a lily pad?” she asked, letting the wagon flap fall back into place.

“They’re called the Lily Pad Knights,” Clare whispered to her conspiratorially.

Evie looked horrified. “No, they are not.”

“Shhh!” Trystan shushed them, but Kingsley caught Trystan’s hand tightening around Evie’s. “Winnifred. Do you know how to use this?” Trystan dropped the shining wand into Winnifred’s hands, as well as the glass slippers clanging together in a pouch. The woman just barely caught them before they hit the ground, her green eyes wide and frightened.

Alexander would’ve cared more in another life, as another man, if he wasn’t so close.

Home.

Alexander was nearly home.

This whisper of a woman was the last thing standing between him and what he wanted—ironic, since she was a direct relation to the woman who had fully ruined his life. The girl held the wand away from her face. “I don’t know what to do.”

Clare stepped forward, placing her hand over Winnifred’s, then removing the slippers from the bag and placing them by her feet. Winnifred pulled off her shoes, sliding a foot into each glass slipper—a perfect fit. “Imagine unlocking a door and glide your magic through it. The wand should make your enchantress magic easier to wield; it’ll give you a way to control it.”

Winnifred smiled, small and careful, back at Clare, but she didn’t say a word and didn’t move her hand.

“When was the last time you saw your mom, Winnifred?” Evie asked gently out of the blue.

“Winnie,” the brunette corrected, and the short nickname seemed to fit her, this quiet ghost of a person. “She used to call me Winnie, that is. I haven’t seen her since the arrest. We had moved to the southern kingdom and then received a commission from your household, begging for an alternative to death. My mother thought something reversible would be a fair compromise.”

Clare folded her arms across her chest. Tatianna was glaring daggers at her. “This was not reversible,” Clare said defensively.

Winnie’s green eyes were haunted. “My mother warned you of the consequences. Enchantments are unpredictable and dangerous, even to the most seasoned.” Almost to display her point, light shot from the wand in Winnie’s fingers when she squeezed it, and Alexander got knocked back into the gate.

A feather scarf appeared around his neck, and he glared down at it, ribbiting outrage.

Winnie stared at the wand and furrowed her brow. “I don’t know why, but you look far less creepy with that thing. You should leave it on,” she told Kingsley.

Alexander shucked it off so fast, feathers flew everywhere, and then he wrote furiously on the sign Trystan had left by his feet.

Witch.

Winnie furrowed her full brows, genuinely perplexed. “No. Enchantress.”

Alexander slammed the sign against his head.

“It must have been scary, having your mother taken away like that.” Evie steered the conversation, driving with sympathy.

Winnie shrugged. “No more than your mother leaving you after murdering your brother.”

Evie gasped.

“Sorry.” Winnie corrected softly: “You just thought she murdered your brother.”

“How did you know that?” Tatianna asked warily, not looking at Clare, but the two were standing close enough that their arms were touching.

“It’s the enchantress magic,” Winnie explained, seeming to grow even smaller when the attention turned on her. “It tells me things about people sometimes. Like an intuition.”

Evie took two steps toward the barrier, grumbling, “That was alarmingly specific for intuition.”

“It depends on how open the person is, usually.” Winnie shrugged. “The more closed off, the less I can gauge. You, for example.” She pointed to Tatianna. “You grew up in a home with two loving parents, but you’re constantly petrified you’re disappointing them.”

Tatianna clutched invisible pearls. “Ew. Don’t do that.”

Winnie looked at Trystan. “You’re repressed.”