Accomplice to the Villain (Assistant and the Villain, #3)(134)

Keeley tugged the sleeve higher, then dragged Marv bodily to the nearest puddle, rubbing his wrist in it. The tattoo remained in place. Impossible.

Marv stared at it in disbelief for a second before ducking his head, and when he lifted it, his eyes were wild, afraid. “I’m telling you I didn’t have a choice! I had to do it—for her! You need to let me go. This isn’t what you think! You’re all in danger!” Marv yelled every possible excuse, and it hurt Gideon to see someone he’d thought was so kind prove to be the very opposite.

Gideon shook his head, just as the rain finally stopped. He looked about the wreckage, wondering to himself if he would ever live a peaceful life when chaos came so readily.

“What do you mean, we’re the ones in danger? Explain,” Keeley said as she yanked him to stand up.

His throat bobbed before he frantically disclosed the plan that even made a few Malevolent Guards’ jaws drop.

And according to Marv…the true danger had yet to come.





Chapter 83


The Villain


They returned to the manor. It took several hours, and by the time they saw their home on the horizon, the sun was coming up.

Nobody had slept.

Arthur’s body had been covered with Tatianna’s cape.

Clare had wept into Tatianna’s arms, and Tati had held her so tight, her fingers were twined in the short locks of Clare’s hair.

At some point, Trystan’s hand had drifted toward Sage’s, and she’d wordlessly woven her fingers in his, using her other hand to fully cover his. “I’m so sorry,” she kept repeating. “I’m so sorry.”

He was too numb to be angry with her for apologizing. He’d find that emotion again later, when he fully realized the world would continue turning without the man he thought his father in it.

When they got inside to discover the disarray at the manor, he wasn’t even surprised.

They walked through the wreckage, and Evie froze in place, staring at the heads of innocent office workers with her mouth in a flat line, and he knew she was fighting back a sob.

She disappeared to check on her mother, and Trystan didn’t see her again until later. He found her standing on the parapet, reaching for Benedict’s flag, which was swinging in the breeze.

Some of his kindest workers had been slain. His home had been violated while he was off dancing with Evie, holding her body, enjoying her, selfishly giving in to all he truly wanted—and all the while, everything around him was destroyed. He must be a bastard, because while the guilt trickled in, hot and powerful, he wouldn’t exchange those moments with her.

Benedict could pry them from his cold, dead fingers.

Evie stared at the flag for a second, such hatred in her kind eyes. Then she tore it right down the middle and crushed it beneath her heel. “Trystan,” she breathed.

“He still hasn’t…returned to being…him.” Trystan held up Alexander, who’d shaken the crown easily from his head. It had remained in place for so long that Trystan had begun to believe he’d actually glued it there. It hadn’t occurred to him that the crown stayed because Alexander had made efforts to ensure it never came off. That him removing it was a symbol that his friend was gone. Forever.

Kingsley blinked, croaking, as Trystan kept hold of him.

“I could try.” A small voice echoed from the doorway that led back into the office. Winnifred. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying. Trystan wasn’t the only one who’d lost someone today.

“I wouldn’t ask it of you. You’re free to stay or leave at your leisure.” He said it with no urgency or flourish. It was a straightforward offer.

Winnie didn’t say anything, just reached for Alexander and squinted. Then she took a stray handkerchief from her pocket, dampened it with her lips, and rubbed off the dirt on his head, stopping when she saw them staring at her.

“He had a bit of dirt on his head,” she said. The handkerchief remained around his head as Winnie pulled the wand from the sash of her dress and waved it. It glowed, brighter, brighter, that brightness beaming out around Kingsley, the frog illuminated by magic, and then…

Nothing. It didn’t work.

Alexander was still a frog.

And he would remain so. Forever.

Trystan cursed under his breath. His soul was battered now; even as unused as he’d thought it, it twisted in agony as he lost the battle to Benedict, as he lost his friend forever.

Another ribbit signaled the frog’s discomfort. He was squirming in Winnie’s hands, and when she didn’t let him go, he opened his mouth—and bit her.

“Ow!” Winnie cried, shaking out her hand. “Oh no!” And the creature was off, hopping along the parapet, into the empty office space. Trystan and Sage chased the infernal animal over desks and piles of paper, past spilled mugs of cauldron brew, finally cornering him near the water cooler—except it wasn’t the water cooler. It was a shadowed figure standing in the corner where the water cooler used to be. The figure hunched over and picked up Kingsley. Then he walked into the harsh overhead light of the office.

King Benedict.

Trystan spat at Benedict’s feet, summoning his magic—but he found that it wouldn’t answer, that he could barely even feel it. The magic in Kingsley had vanished, the catalyst, and now all of Rennedawn was changing. They’d run out of time. Trystan’s magic was gone, and soon, Rennedawn would be, too. All was lost. Forever.