Accomplice to the Villain (Assistant and the Villain, #3)(25)

Tatianna’s glowing hands roamed over Evie’s body, assessing as she went. “A few bruises, sprained wrist, and it looks like she has a concussion, but her skull isn’t cracked.”

“I—I’ve got a hard head,” Evie muttered, opening her eyes with a hint of amusement.

Tatianna brushed stray curls away from Evie’s face, dabbing at the dried blood with a damp cloth. “That you do, little friend. I’ll mix something up for the pain, and then I should have you fixed up in just a moment.”

“I can make the mixture. I know the plants well,” Clare offered, already starting for the table. Tatianna nodded, returning her attention to Evie, who continued her jokes until the tension in the room eased.

Clare grabbed several ingredients and began crushing them together, so distracted she didn’t see her brother approach. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “For helping.”

Kingsley hopped between them, holding up a sign that said…

Nothing?

Not the word. It was simply blank.

Trystan frowned, deeper than he already had been, and picked up the sign, staring down at his old friend. “Is this meant to be a metaphor, Kingsley?”

His gold crown tilted, but the frog prince did nothing to respond except ribbit.

There was a pinch of worry forming an uncomfortable knot in her chest as she stared down at Kingsley, distractedly handing off the mixture she’d produced to Tatianna. “Maybe he’s feeling lazy today.”

Pushing his hair out of his face, Trystan made for the door. “How long will it take for you to heal her, Tatianna?”

“A half hour, maybe?”

“Good. When you’re through, come find me. I’m calling a meeting.”

Evie sat up, ignoring Tatianna’s protests. “I’m coming, too.”

Trystan paused at the door, one hand on the doorframe, but didn’t turn around as he said, “If you must.”

And then he was gone.

Clare was a victim of her mother’s machinations, it was true, but Trystan had been their mother’s choice for the brunt of her antipathy. And Clare was still ashamed that there was a time she’d believed he deserved it.

Sniffing, Clare handed Tatianna another batch of her plant mixture for Evie’s head and thought of all the things she hadn’t said.

Yes, Clare Maverine had made many mistakes in her life.

And she had a very terrible feeling she hadn’t made the worst of them.

Yet.





Chapter 14


The Villain


Trystan knew when he became The Villain that he would always be the one to make the hard decisions, even the unpopular ones. It was a job he rather enjoyed, in all honesty, but there was one standard office practice even he vowed to never adhere to.

Meetings.

He’d had very little need for such things in the past. The office ran well without him willingly interacting with the people who worked for him. In fact, there were days when he’d found himself speaking less than Kingsley. He used to think he preferred it, that it was the closest he’d get to contentment. But then Sage had stumbled into his arms and into his life, and now everything had changed.

Including him.

And his proclivities for avoiding human interaction.

But this had become a necessary evil. Their methods as a group these past weeks had become far too disorderly for any sort of progress, and Trystan had a sneaking suspicion that he needed all hands on deck if they were to have any measure of success going forward with any of their current problems: finding the guvre, stopping the king, restoring Rennedawn’s magic.

In the guards’ usual training quarters, a long table was placed, and Trystan watched as one by one Tatianna, Rebecka, Clare, Gushiken, and Gideon, with Keeley draped around his arm, entered the room, taking all the available seats.

All except one.

“I realize we’ve agreed to provide you sanctuary, Gideon, but that does not make you privy to this meeting.” Trystan glared at him, but Gideon merely shrugged, unbothered by the animosity.

A Sage to the core.

Keeley interjected, wincing as she sat. “I asked him to bring me, sir. He’ll go if you wish.”

Gideon raised a brow at her. “He will?”

Keeley glared, and Trystan was surprised to find himself stifling a laugh—so surprised he nearly let it loose.

Too close of a call.

“Remain if you wish.” Trystan waved a hand, too distracted by Sage coming in last, putting a smile on her face for the rest of the room that Trystan knew was not genuine; it never reached her eyes. “Sage, you’re late.”

“I was checking on my mother.” Her fake smile didn’t falter, and the sight of it aimed in his direction infuriated him. “Is that all right with you, sir.”

The title of authority had never sounded more like the word “jackass.”

Sage stepped farther into the room to reveal she’d changed out of her clothes from the morning into a green dress with sleeves that floated off her shoulders, exposing purpling fingerprints on her upper arms that either Tatianna had missed or Sage had asked her not to heal.

Either option made something pop behind his eye socket.

Questioning the intruder was going to be a treat.

The ominous turn of his thoughts had his magic floating about his feet, dancing with the possibility of Sage sitting in the chair beside him, but then she asked Blade to move down a chair and proceeded to take the seat as far away from Trystan as she could manage. The death magic drooped like a dead flower, apparently disappointed in losing the possibility of free-range wildness in her presence.