Accomplice to the Villain (Assistant and the Villain, #3)(127)

Trystan’s fingers brushed against the bluish bruise at the spot on his neck where she’d bitten him. “It rained,” was all he said, and that entire lack of explanation raised eyebrows down the line. Evie was too busy moaning into her hands to get involved, praying for one of the spears stuck to the wall to have an ill-timed fall.

Kingsley hopped off Evie’s shoulder, and his chain dragging on the floor made a horrible screeching sound. “Alexander! The guards will hear!” Clare screeched, scooping him up into her arms. “What now?”

“Arthur?” Trystan asked his father, and the core healer’s red beard swayed a bit with the almost bashful dip of his head.

“We hurry, son.” The Villain’s father clapped a hand onto his shoulder. Arthur went from a slow trot along the wall to a sprint. They made it down the other corridor quickly, passing an empty courtyard covered in ponds and plants. “The main entrance to the dungeons is just down this next hall, but it’s magically warded with an enchantment like the lock on your mother’s cell, Winnifred. We’ll need you to open it with the wand.”

Winnifred nodded, paling as the sound of knights’ armor clanging began echoing down the corridor. They sprinted across a room with an open, roofless green space in the center that boasted an elaborate fountain.

“Alexander, no!” Clare hissed, just as Kingsley broke free of her hold and the chain dropped into Clare’s hands.

Evie dove to catch him, just missing his legs, and took a header into the fountain. Her mouth filled with water when she sucked in a sharp breath of pain. Pushing up on her forearms, she was dragged from the water, hacking.

“You’re bleeding. Dammit, Kingsley.” Trystan went to grab the frog, who’d already hopped away, eyes darting like he’d bolt any second.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“You just slammed your head into a stone fountain,” Trystan protested.

Evie shrugged. “At the frequency it happens, you find that surprising?”

He wiped a hand down his mouth. “No, Sage.”

“Alexander,” Arthur hissed as the frog leaped down another corridor. The group of them skittered after the animal, keeping as quiet as possible. “We can’t let him wander.”

They all kept to the walls, and Evie was relieved that the halls were quiet now, save for the subdued sounds of their steps moving swiftly after the troublesome frog. Every time Evie looked back to be sure Trystan was there, the tension between them was so thick it was as if she could see it.

No, wait—she could. It was Trystan’s magic swirling about her feet, playing with the bottom of her skirt.

It curled around her wrist, tugging her until she stumbled into Trystan’s chest. His stoic stare did not waver, but he gently and reluctantly righted her, pushing her away from him. “I apologize.”

Her lips hovered close to his. “Don’t.”

His mouth twitched, and he wordlessly lifted her hem as they passed a puddle forming under a leaking part of the palace roof, so her skirt would not get wet. It was a courteous gesture, but she felt him stumble just the tiniest bit as he did so, and she grinned like a lovesick fool.

And after Kingsley they went, Arthur leading the group, signaling when it was safe to proceed and when to flatten to the walls as a guard rounded the corner. There was a good chance they would get caught, but as Kingsley stopped, turning to them, golden eyes wide again, Evie felt it in her bones.

They would be leaving here with a prince.





Chapter 78


Gideon


“Can’t you go faster?” Gideon asked Keeley as they rode at a breakneck pace back to Massacre Manor, the rest of the Malevolent Guard close behind.

“If you ask me that one more time, I’m throwing you off!” Keeley yelled as her steed hurdled over a large boulder effortlessly. Hickory Forest blurred around them as they moved, faster and faster. The rain hadn’t stopped, it had only lightened, still soaking Gideon’s shirt to his chest and his pants enough to uncomfortably rub against his legs.

“All this time,” Gideon breathed, tightening his grip around Keeley’s waist. “You really think Marv could’ve done all this? The notes to Lyssa? Orchestrating my father’s release? Tying up Edwin?”

“I don’t know.”

“Or the letters to you, for that matter. Why would Marv be writing to you as your father?” They flew over a fallen branch, and the jolt gave Gideon a good indication that his arse would be sore tomorrow—if he didn’t fall off first. “It couldn’t have just been…Marv.”

“Why did you say his name like that?” Keeley asked, leaning forward to give her steed more momentum.

“Because Marv isn’t the name of a bad guy. Marv is the name of the uncle who says something awkward at yule dinner after too much mead and everyone goes home uncomfortable.”

The horse slowed, and Gideon did fall off this time, rolling as his shoulder hit the ground and grunting at the impact. “Gods, Keeley! I could have broken my—”

The manor.

The thorny grove had been hacked into in one corner, clear through to the front door, and there was a flag atop the tower, gliding back and forth in the storm.

A flag with the crest of King Benedict.

“No,” Keeley whispered, running for the door, gold hair the one thing gleaming in the gray that surrounded them.