Accomplice to the Villain (Assistant and the Villain, #3)(43)
Trystan’s gaze didn’t move from hers, and the hairs on the back of her neck rose in response. She swallowed hard, watching his eyes go molten on her. “So, what now, sir?”
He looked haunted when he replied, “We need to see the Curse Consultant.”
There was a collective gasp around the room, which didn’t seem to bode well for what was ahead. Or for whatever the deadlands a Curse Consultant was.
“It’s our only hope of finding a way to break the curse, and we don’t have the luxury of time,” Trystan added. “We’ve wasted too much already, and we still have the guvre giving birth to worry about.”
Tatianna interjected. “You’ve tried the Curse Consultant before, Trystan. If you recall, he wouldn’t see you?”
Trystan shut his eyes tight, closing himself off from Evie once more, and it felt like a fist had slammed into her stomach, punching the wind out of her. “It’s different,” he gritted out. “I have what he asked for now. I didn’t before.”
Tatianna’s lips parted, and her eyes went to Evie. And then everyone else’s did, too.
Evie sputtered for a second, pointing a finger at her chest. “Wait, me? You have me?”
Trystan nodded, still not looking at her, and though she knew she should let go of hope, the optimism deeply entwined in her soul refused to die. Despite the world’s unspoken mission to beat it out of her.
Trystan was clearly alluding to something Evie had to offer the Curse Consultant; it had nothing to do with him. But she read into it anyway when he said, low and gruff:
“Yes, Sage. I have you.”
Chapter 26
The Villain
This was a fucking mistake.
But it was too late to turn back.
Trystan tried to think of what it would feel like when he completed the prophecy before Benedict, when he stole the king’s precious kingdom right out from under him. When he could watch all those who revered their ruler weep into their hands as they witnessed their hero fall into nothingness.
Yes, revenge was enough to keep him warm at night. Despite his constant dreams about Sage and her soft curves pressed against the hard parts of him. The memory of her body in the sheer nightgown revisiting him nightly like a prayer.
Or a godsdamned demon.
They rode through Hickory Forest, taking special care to ensure no one was following them, with several Malevolent Guards circling the perimeter of the manor. It was a quiet trip, the only sound the horses’ hooves and Trystan’s insistent heartbeat, pounding out a rhythm that felt suspiciously like Mistake. Mistake.
Until a large-winged animal swooped between him and Sage, making her squeal and Trystan yelp.
“Oh, wonderful!” Tatianna threw her hands over her head, the large animal swooping down mere inches from the healer. “Bats.”
The cove where the consultant lived was not very far from the manor, but regardless, they’d had to take several excruciatingly long paths to ensure none of the king’s men had followed. Trystan was relieved when they finally saw the shimmering waterfall ahead, and the party dismounted from their horses, taking the rest of the journey on foot.
The horses let out a gruff whine, sensing the formidable presence of magic in the cove’s falling water. A vibrant rainbow shimmered above it. “Don’t you worry, big guy. I’ll protect you.” Sage laughed softly, patting her horse’s head, the words laced with a joy Trystan didn’t think he’d felt until he met her.
It was horrible.
Kingsley hopped over, holding a sign with his toes. Trystan subtly loosened his fingers from their tight grip, dropping tiny pieces of chalk in the grass for the frog to use. It was irritating having to drag the tools along, but if Kingsley continued his stowaway tendencies, Trystan wasn’t so heartless as to leave the frog with no way to communicate.
“What are you doing?” Sage narrowed her eyes at him, and he jumped like he’d been caught thieving the crown jewels instead of committing an act of kindness on purpose.
That would be embarrassing.
“I’m looking for the Curse Consultant’s sigil to summon him,” Trystan explained, scanning the ground for any signs of a sword outline.
When he looked up again, Sage’s eyes were narrowed on him. “Are you planning on sacrificing me or something? Because if so, I have objections.” She gestured to her trousers, the ones that clung to her thighs. He allowed himself two seconds to admire the shape and remember how good they’d felt gripped in his hands.
And then those two seconds were over and he mentally splashed ice water over his head.
“Because of your…pants?” he asked, hoping his flat tone would hide his curiosity about the answer.
“No, Mr. Literal. Because if I’d known I was going to be sacrificed today, I wouldn’t have worn such a boring outfit.”
As if any of her outfits could be described as such. She regularly wore colors of the rainbow not yet discovered by the public.
“Sage, you are wearing a corset that has a meadow landscape painted on it. If you’re drab, then I’m a corpse.”
She patted his arm. “That’s not very kind to the corpses.”
He gave a sardonic lift of his brow and folded his arms. “All because I don’t play into frivolities?”
Something shuttered in Sage’s face, and he regretted the words immediately when she said with a sudden seriousness, “I think I’ve more than earned the right to frivolities. I don’t care what anyone thinks about it.”