Accomplice to the Villain (Assistant and the Villain, #3)(28)

It mattered not, for Trystan had found another place for Kingsley’s princely ring.

Atop Alexander’s head, as a crown.

The sun hit the gold as he lay flat into the light, letting it warm his back. He wondered if what he missed most in the world was the simple sensation of sun against his skin, the way he used to know it. Everything was different now. Everything was—

Trystan burst through the door, breathing heavily, the dark circles under the man’s eyes so prominent Alexander felt comfortable enough to nickname them Evie and Sage. The source of their existence. “Kingsley! You cannot just leave after that.”

Yes, he could. In fact, he had!

Kingsley shrugged, reaching for a sign and writing down a word he hadn’t had cause to use in a while. Boring.

“My apologies that my concerns aren’t more exciting, but you cannot run away from a problem.”

Oh, a word. That needs a word.

Alexander moved to jot it down and froze.

HOP or HYPOCRITE?

“I need to know what happened to you just now.” Trystan crouched, dark brows slanted downward, a worried frown on his face. “Please tell me, Alexander.”

Another word came to mind then, and Kingsley didn’t need to deliberate. This one was easy: Friend.

Trystan stared at the sign for a moment and leaned back on his heels, looking overcome. “Yes,” he said softly. “We are that, and I know you’d tell me if there was something I needed to know.”

Alexander only blinked.

Trystan cleared his throat, standing and brushing off his pants. “I have some things I need to do. But you find me if you need something. All right?”

Alexander nodded, watching Trystan’s back as he exited the room, closing the door softly behind him.

It hadn’t technically been a lie. There were many things Alexander hadn’t told Trystan over the years, but none were things his friend needed to know. Just things he probably should.

So he’d let Trystan believe it had been a fluke, a mistake.

And he flopped back onto his stomach, feeling what he now knew of the sun’s touch, all the while aware that what had just happened to him in the meeting…

Had happened before.





Chapter 16


Becky


Rebecka Erring allowed the raven to put the scroll of paper summoning her brother in its mouth, and the bird held it for approximately two seconds before it spied crumbs on the floor and abandoned the missive to dive beak-first for them.

Becky sighed, rubbing her temples, and followed the trail of crumbs all the way to exactly where she suspected the little girl would be: hiding under the kitchen’s wooden table with several cookies shoved in her mouth. “I’m trying to send a letter, and the raven is pecking for your leftovers, you little gremlin. Do you care nothing for cavities?” Becky huffed.

Lyssa laughed, crawling out from under the table with chocolate all over her face. “Lord Trystan eats sweets all day long in his office, and he has perfect teeth, Ms. Erring!” Lyssa wiped her chocolate-covered hands against her soft green floral dress, and Becky winced at the stains already forming on the fabric.

Becky folded her arms, her turquoise dress a far cry from the neutral attire she normally donned, but after the confrontation with her family at the Fortis Family Fortress, she’d decided that keeping her distance from those who had wronged her didn’t mean she had to distance herself from the things she enjoyed. When they left the fortress, Becky had resolved to try for a new sense of freedom, as free as the pint-size optimist who seemed to cling to her like a barnacle.

Even if said pint-size optimist was attempting to rot all the teeth from her mouth.

“That’s because he’s The Villain,” Becky reasoned. “Evil makes you…immune to cavities.” It sounded like an excuse Evie would come up with. Becky grimaced.

Lyssa jumped and clapped her hands. “I’m evil, too! My teeth are safe, then.”

Becky lifted a skeptical brow. “I saw you say hello to a butterfly this morning.”

“Ms. Erring, the butterfly in question said it first, and you told me bad manners was bad workplace culture.”

Damn it. She had said that. “Having manners and good workplace culture negates evildoing, don’t you think?” Becky volleyed, feeling a little ridiculous at the satisfaction creeping in over winning a debate with a child.

Lyssa pulled a neatly folded piece of paper from her pocket and held it high, reading it aloud. “Lord Trystan’s Rules of Villainy. Number 4: We’re villains, not ill-mannered. Decorum is everything.”

Becky gaped. “He gave you a list?”

Lyssa folded it and carefully put it back in the pocket of her dress. “During teatime.”

Becky needed to go to a quiet room where everything made sense and no one said anything absurd for five to thirty-five minutes. “All right, I give. Get a cavity, but don’t come crying to me.”

“You have my sweet tooth.” The soft voice came from the kitchen entrance, and there stood Nura Sage, looking meek and overly cautious. “It was worse when I was pregnant with you. I wanted nothing but chocolate cake.”

Lyssa stepped closer to Becky, her hand clutching the back of Becky’s skirt. A tenderness Becky never would have thought herself capable of panged around her cautious heart. The HR woman allowed her hand to fall against Lyssa’s shoulder in an attempt at comfort. “I love chocolate cake.” Lyssa said the words with a voice so small it was hardly above a whisper. No evidence of the vibrant energy the little girl had just seconds ago.