Accomplice to the Villain (Assistant and the Villain, #3)(61)

He held up a quelling hand. “I’m no creep, Ms. Sage. I only observed for the last half hour and only for the sake of curiosity.”

“If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck…” She folded her arms, and he chuckled.

It pissed her off.

She began walking around him to the other side of the basket, hands still clasped behind her back as she stared at the night sky, noticing that the brightest one she used to watch and wish on with such reverence was no longer there. That star was now human, sitting back at the manor, and the only thing Evie had wished upon her before leaving was to be left alone.

“Ms. Sage, I can sense your distress, but as The Villain’s assistant, surely you’ve heard of his business dealings with me?” Lord Fowler asked, backing Evie up until she hit the edge. So distracted by her was he, the lord didn’t notice Evie was slowly forcing him to turn in the other direction, away from her boss’s supine form.

Until a strong arm banded around Fowler’s neck from behind and squeezed, a cool voice breaking the silence and raising gooseflesh on her arms. “Apprentice.”

Formerly supine form.

“Ah! Villain, you’re awake. Excellent!” Lord Fowler did not seem distressed in the slightest that the kingdom’s greatest foe had his arm wrapped around his neck and, judging by the bulging vein in her boss’s forehead, he was mere seconds from squeezing until Fowler turned blue.

“Apprentice.” Trystan repeated the word, somehow managing to make it sound more scathing than he had the first time. “Address her properly or I throw you over the edge and watch as you hit the earth.”

Swoon.

Oh, wait, that’s bad. Too high up. No swooning.

Not right now, at least.

Lord Fowler smiled his deference at Evie. “Apprentice, of course.” He nodded in a gesture of respect. “Congratulations on the promotion, my dear.” She waved back awkwardly, unsure of what else to do.

“Sage. I’m threatening him. Stop waving.”

“Sorry.” She halted abruptly.

“Stop apologizing,” he ground out.

Lord Fowler’s eyes were moving between them when he said, “Fascinating. It appears you two have something of a special language.”

“Yes,” Trystan said dryly. “It’s called irritation.”

Evie’s hackles were raised at the slight, and she narrowed her eyes, addressing Lord Fowler but looking right at Trystan. “Exactly. He’s like a rash that won’t go away.”

Fowler laughed heartily and angled his head back toward Trystan, as much as the grip still around the lord’s neck allowed. “Oh, Villain, she is a delight.”

“As delightful as dragon pox,” he said flatly.

“Sexually transmitted?” Evie tapped her lip coyly.

The Villain choked.

She’d won.

Fowler’s eyes gleamed. “Gods, I have half a mind to hire her out from under you, Villain.”

Trystan didn’t say anything, just paused a moment.

But only a moment—before casually hurling Lord Fowler over the edge.





Chapter 40


The Villain


“Trystan!” Sage screamed, running to the edge.

“Oh dear. He fell,” Trystan replied with zero emotion behind it.

She slapped his arm and searched the dark for the body hurtling toward the earth. “Why did you do that?”

“I have a policy against the poaching of my employees.” He straightened his shirt and brushed out the wrinkles.

“And the punishment is death?” she said, exasperated.

For attempting to steal Sage? The punishment was being skinned alive, but he didn’t have a butter knife on him.

“No, it’s shoving. It was merely unlucky for him that he brought us up to such great heights.” He’d started fiddling with the pulley, and the balloon and basket began to dip in gradual degrees.

Still shaking off the shock, Sage stood on her tiptoes to peer over his shoulder, her breath against his neck making him tremble. “Do you know how to work this thing?”

He muttered, “You pull this lever to release the cool air into the balloon slowly, so it moves toward the ground gradually. More heat to have it move up.”

Evie planted a hand on her hip, the other pulling her loose curls to the side so the wind would stop pushing the strands in her face. “Where did you learn that?”

“I read science textbooks when I have spare moments in the day.”

Evie sighed. “Ah, of course. Nothing takes your mind off murder and villainy like physics.”

“I often find myself saying the same!” A shout over the wind made Sage scream in surprise before hurling herself into Trystan’s chest. His hand fell protectively around her on instinct.

Physical affection had always seemed such a pointless display to him. Holding hands, hugging, touches of comfort, or anything that required two people making contact other than the violent kind.

But the way Sage felt in his arms made him want to do all those things. She’d made him want to hold hands. And he’d never forgive her for it.

“What. The. Deadlands!” Evie screeched. Trystan was irritatingly amused by her outrage, her blue eyes round as saucers as Fowler floated into the basket and landed with hardly a thud. “You— He flew! You flew!”