Accomplice to the Villain (Assistant and the Villain, #3)(52)

Writing a note that said, Love, Marv.

If frogs could groan, Alexander would’ve, but unfortunately, all that came from his throat was a croaking sound that formed into its inevitable ribbit. When he was human, he had never been short of something clever to say or a witty retort that had his subjects fawning or laughing jovially.

He’d been good at being a prince, he thought with a sigh.

Though, oddly, he seemed to also excel at being a frog. So much so that things were growing muddled, his memories becoming more difficult to grasp. He wasn’t sure why.

But he had a terrible theory.

That theory had led him beneath the desk of a young woman he’d grown quite fond of. Listening intently—an act he excelled at—as the two foolish human beings argued back and forth on Kingsley’s behalf.

When he was a prince, Alexander had never given much thought to love—or falling into it, for that matter. He’d always assumed he’d marry for political reasons, as his parents had, and allow a natural fondness to form between him and his wife, also as his parents had.

And now the fate of a neighboring kingdom hinged on not only him becoming a prince once more, but also him saving a fated love?

He wondered if pie might count. He loved pie, and that prospect required far less pressure and far less responsibility.

No. Worry was not a common emotion of frogs, nor was frustration, but he felt them both. In spades.

“If any form of social diplomacy is required to speak to this lord, you’re going to need me. You’re being stubborn,” Evie said, and Kingsley flinched.

Calling Trystan stubborn was like telling a bull it had horns—obvious and foolishly dangerous.

“I’m not saying you’re not qualified,” Trystan thundered. “I’m saying there is no reason for you to come along. You’ll only slow me down.”

Kingsley slapped a webbed foot to his face. Telling Evie Sage she was a nuisance was like telling a wolf it had sharp teeth—leaving you wide open for it to bite.

“I have every right to join you in this. You promoted me to apprentice; you gave me an office and a fancy title,” she hissed. Kingsley couldn’t see either of their faces from underneath her desk, but he’d watched them both long enough to know exactly what they looked like in that moment. “Or did you do all that just to tuck me away and shut me up so you could continue on without me?”

Evie was no doubt glaring. Her face would be red, her nose probably scrunched, and there was a high chance she was about to slam one of her booted feet against the ground. Trystan would be watching her, looking impassive to the casual observer, but a trained eye could see how his friend came alive when he was sparring with his apprentice. How The Villain leaned into the act of being challenged, how utterly besotted he was with the woman who was brave enough to do it.

“That’s not fair. You know my magic has not been working properly and I—”

“It’s cursed! What in the fuck does that have to do with me?”

And if Evie Sage was using foul language, it meant she was about to do something drastic.

Trystan was pinching the bridge of his nose. Alexander didn’t see it, but he felt it. Just as he peeked out and saw Evie’s boots move closer to Trystan’s. “Are you trying to punish me for your lack of control?”

Alexander hopped out—he couldn’t resist—launching himself atop the desk and writing one word on his board.

Damn

“Kingsley!” Trystan seethed. “What have I told you about eavesdropping?”

It was true, he’d told Alexander to stop. Alexander, on his part, had not agreed to this—in fact, he was sure he’d held up signs that said Ha and then No.

“Why? You don’t want him to hear what an ass you’re being?”

Trystan sputtered, “N-No! He’s heard that before!” He paused, the words catching up to him. “Wait—”

It was too late, because Evie was laughing into her palm.

And Trystan Maverine watched her, utterly, properly, and near hopelessly in love with her.

“Oh, that’s amusing, is it?” he said accusatorily, looking a little predatory as he backed Evie into the wall. “You take enjoyment in how I turn into an ill-spoken nincompoop every time I talk to you?”

Evie’s back hit the wall, and she grinned. “I love that word.”

Trystan’s eyes smoldered, but his lip curled enough to show his dimple. “I know.”

The moment had grown too intense, and as deeply as Kingsley enjoyed butting into other people’s conversations, he’d been waiting far too long for the two of them to finally come together the way they were meant to.

Alexander made to hop away, he meant to leave, but…suddenly, everything started to confuse him. His surroundings looked unfamiliar, and his tiny heart pounded when he tried to recall what he’d been doing there in the first place and his brain produced nothing.

He was hungry. He knew that. Flies. He was thinking of flies. He was confused.

And then there were two large beings in front of him, and they were loud and scary, and he wanted to run, he wanted to hide.

But the larger one was picking him up and yelling something in his face. He couldn’t tell what it was, but there was a small part of him that knew it was a name.

“Kingsley! Wake up!”