Accomplice to the Villain (Assistant and the Villain, #3)(27)

Sage’s eyes widened. Trystan continued addressing the room, but his gaze did not leave hers.

It couldn’t.

“With the recent break and the distinct possibility Benedict has an informant inside the office, I fear this is not the last attempt at sabotage. Keep this information to yourselves. Tell no one.” He planted a hand on the table, leaning forward, still looking right at her. “As for the stained glass windows, we’ll begin taking them apart for clues and attempting to put them back together as they were before I had them altered. It’s the closest we’ve come to completing the prophecy.”

Gideon opened his mouth, and Sage speared him with a glare. “Do not suggest going to retrieve it, Gideon, or I will talk in detail about your awkward phase.”

“Is he not still in it?” Keeley deadpanned.

Gideon glared at every person who laughed, so…everyone in the room. All except Trystan, who was seconds away from losing his temper.

Blade shifted in his seat, bumping into one of Sage’s bruised arms in the process. She winced.

Minuscule seconds.

Clearing his throat, Trystan continued. “The words may only be visible in the sunlight, but banishing the workers during the day without suspicion is not an option. Be discreet and be cautious. You never know who’s watching.”

There was a collective shiver, and Trystan bent his head to hide his smirk.

I’ve still got it.

They all left slowly, like Trystan had sucked the spirits from their bodies.

The mark of a successful meeting.

“Sir?” Sage asked, the only one remaining aside from Kingsley, who was staring off in the other direction like he’d caught sight of a fly. “The man in the dungeons. I want to question him with you.”

Near the man who caused you physical harm? No, I’m afraid I prefer to decapitate in private.

Trystan was no longer trying to test her; she was his apprentice, and he was The Villain. And a professional at that. Still, he couldn’t stop his cold denial. “Not this time, Sage. You are still recovering from your injuries. I’ll allow you to participate in the next interrogation.”

He stood from his chair and was busying himself with straightening his shirt when Sage said quietly, “He’s Otto Warsen’s son.”

Trystan’s head snapped up. “He’s… You’re sure?”

She nodded, biting at her lower lip, something fragile about her as she recounted, “He hinted at it, and…I could tell. They have the same smile, the same voice, and then I remembered Otto mentioning family working in the capital. He has no reason to lie.”

Trystan was not a hero. He was not a valiant knight or anyone’s savior; he was evil, and he would reclaim that title twenty times over if it meant destroying anyone who put that haunted look on Sage’s lovely face.

“Very well. You may join me in the dungeons at the day’s end when the workers have been dismissed, but only to observe. You are not to ask any questions. Consider it part of your apprenticeship.”

Sage nodded, her hand going to rub at the back of her shoulder, where Trystan knew her scar lived. “Thank you, sir. That’s very generous.”

“If you want to thank me, don’t ever use that vile word again.”

She tilted her head. “Generous?”

He answered dryly. “Absolutely disgusting.”

One side of her mouth tipped up as she grabbed her journal from the table and made her way for the door. “I’ll see you at the day’s end, Your Evilness.”

The door shut tightly behind her.

And Trystan stood there staring down at his friend Kingsley with a sigh. “What now, old friend? A quick round of chess before we get to work?”

Kingsley stared blankly at him, but it was more absent than the amphibian’s normal expressions. Almost…unaware.

“Kingsley?” Nothing. Trystan’s call became more frantic, his heart picking up speed. “Alexander?” He hadn’t really used the prince’s name in years, but he was desperate, and it worked. It seemed to shake Kingsley back to himself.

He held up a sign. Here. But his gold eyes were wide, and the writing was shakier than usual.

Trystan smiled down at his friend and turned to get back to his office. But as he walked, he realized why that moment had been so strange to him. Kingsley had not looked like the frog prince he’d been for the last ten years. It was almost as if Kingsley had just been…

An ordinary frog.





Chapter 15


Kingsley


Alexander Kingsley knew when something was wrong. It was obvious when there were whispers, but Trystan hadn’t whispered. His oldest friend merely stared. So long and so much that Alexander couldn’t seem to handle the weight of whatever Trystan’s dark eyes were trying to convey.

So instead he leaped down the hall, from one stone in the floor to the next, finding the center of Trystan’s office, where the sunlight gathered.

The green skin of his foot as he hopped reminded him of his kingdom’s crest, of the ring he’d worn every day as a human. In the aftermath of Kingsley’s transformation, Trystan had pocketed it and attempted to resize the gold ring to something that might fit a webbed foot.

None did or would. Webbed toes were no place for a prince’s ring.