Accomplice to the Villain (Assistant and the Villain, #3)(68)

Trystan grumbled, “It’s a dinner party, Sage. Nothing to enjoy about it.”

She shrugged off the sting, straightening her outfit and pulling out the coin-sized pot of rouge she’d slipped in between her breasts. Opening the lid carefully, she dabbed a finger in it and rubbed more color to her bottom lip, pressing them together to disperse the rouge evenly. “Well then, you find a potted plant to glare at, and I will go and enjoy myself.” She tapped the lid back onto the cannister and jumped when she saw the look on his face.

It appeared as if his entire body had gone into some sort of stasis, angled away from her. “What happened?” He was so still it was… She gasped. “Did you get hit with another tranquilizer dart thing? Can you feel anything?” she asked, gripping his arm with wide eyes.

His voice was strangled. “Unfortunately.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He growled, “Go back to the party and stay out of trouble. And while you’re at it, take Kingsley with you.” His hand went into the pocket where he’d placed Kingsley, then stilled, horror dawning on his face. “He’s not here.”

Evie scanned the floor, trying not to panic. “Oh, dear. Where do you think he’s gone off to?”

Trystan tore through the alcove, scanning the floors, looking up at the rafters with a feral sort of energy that she found intriguing.

Disturbing. You should find it disturbing.

Ah, she thought. But sadly, I don’t.

“The fool’s wandered off in a house he doesn’t recognize filled with low-rate criminals.”

“Oh, sir, that’s unkind. I don’t think you’re low-rate,” she soothed.

He narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t mean me.”

“Oh.” She clasped her hands behind her back, shaking her head quickly. “Me either.”

Her worry was best hidden beneath a veil of ill-disguised humor, but even that was beginning to fade as every bad thing that could happen to the frog poked and prodded at her mind.

“Is that a frog print?” Trystan asked, bending at the knee to look. They followed the trail of spilled plant soil in the corner, finding that the dirtied webbed feet marks led back into the gathering room. “Come, Sage,” he said, and she struggled to keep up.

They stopped in the near center of the space, subtly looking to either side of them for a flash of green. “He easily could’ve been scooped up by one of these reprobates looking to sell a magic frog on the black market.”

Evie frowned, looking around. Everyone was laughing—no darting eyes or nervous smiles. She couldn’t see a tell among them, and despite her efforts, she was inclined to lean into the good side of human nature. “Are you certain it was that and not him having another…blank episode?”

Trystan’s gaze was shrewd on her, eyes sharp and angry. “If he did, that only means the danger to him is greater. He’ll have no cognizance to find us if he needs help.” Trystan continued through the crowd, pushing people out of the way as he moved, Evie trailing after.

A large man slammed into her from behind, and she felt a sharp tug on her left pinkie. “Ow!” She shoved the man off, and he nearly dislocated her finger with how hard he’d tugged. “Hey!” She ripped her hand away and looked down at her red and throbbing digit.

The large man looked confused, his shiny spiked hair standing on end. Tattoos covered his face and neck, and there were spikes all over his clothing. They even decorated the tips of his boots.

Trystan had heard her cry out, and he spun in a flurry, his red cape flying behind him as he worked his way back to her. Really, bulldozed his way back to her would be more accurate.

Evie held up her red pinkie. “Were you trying to steal my ring?” she asked bluntly.

The large man scratched his head, looking at Evie a little like one would look at a bug that had begun speaking in full sentences. “Uh, I…”

“It’s attached to my finger, you ninny.” She waved it back and forth. “It’s a tattoo!” Though when Evie looked down at the gold-leafed design circling her finger, she realized that it did in fact shine a bit brighter in the candlelight. “Huh. It does kind of seem like a ring.”

When she looked up, the large man had snapped from his frozen state and was nodding succinctly. “Indeed, my lady.”

She shrugged. “Well, it’s attached to me, I’m afraid. If you want it, you must cut off my finger.”

“That’s enough!” Trystan boomed, his presence as dark as his magic, hovering at the edge of the interaction, not interfering until Evie accidentally offered up one of her extremities for amputation. Now he stepped between her and the spike-covered man. “Touch a single finger on her hand, and I’ll remove yours one by one and shove them up your nose,” he said roughly.

Evie frowned, peeking around Trystan’s shoulder to peer up at his face. “Ew.” She laid a hand on his arm for leverage so she could lean fully around his body to speak to the would-be thief. “Sorry. He gets grumpy in most social interactions. It’s not personal.”

The large man stared blankly at her, and Trystan angled his head down to give her an incredulous look. “The deadlands it isn’t.”

She ignored him, smiling and pointing at the man’s head. “I like your spikes. They look, uh…sharp.” She winced at the compliment that came out far too close to a pun.