Accomplice to the Villain (Assistant and the Villain, #3)(70)

“Uh. Lord Fowler?” Evie asked, searching for help, but Fowler, damn him, was against her, too, it seemed.

“Now, my dear, I will not steal your thunder! Proclaim the prize loudly!” Fowler waved his hands with a dancer’s flourish.

Evie looked about the room, then at Trystan’s face as he stared at her with fury—and perhaps a small twinge of respect at her resourcefulness? Or it could’ve been a trick of candlelight or her wildly inappropriate imagination.

She tightened her fist and looked down at the wanted flyer crumpled in her hand. It was either that, the roaring in her ears, or perhaps some sort of spiritual possession that had her holding up the flyer and calling for every reprobate in the room to hear.

“First to return the frog happy and unharmed to me and my companions will get a night—”

She paused, swallowing around her tongue, which suddenly felt too big for her mouth, the silence so loud and piercing it nearly made her sick.

“A night with The Wicked Woman!” she finished.

And everyone in the room scattered.

All except one.

All except The Villain.





Chapter 45


Blade


Meanwhile, back at the manor…

Something was wrong with the male guvre—aside from the obvious. The thing had looked ready to flay Blade alive when he’d arrived with a peace offering: a giant slab of meat. He could hardly blame the animal. Blade wasn’t certain how he would respond if the woman he loved—and his unborn child—were ripped away by someone who sought to misuse them. He’d tried calming the guvre with soothing words, with more meat, and had even resorted to dancing in place as a distraction.

It only seemed to anger the animal. But then again, Blade’s dancing usually had that effect.

Now, the dragon trainer dragged his dirty, tattered body past the front gate of the manor out to the thorny grove where Roland was working diligently alongside Rebecka on fortifying the thorns against outsiders.

He wasn’t certain how one went about fortifying thorns, but it looked impressive as they dumped glistening dust over patches of sharp branches in all directions.

“Lovely Rebecka.” Blade nodded. “Roland.” Rebecka’s brother looked up from his task with a dash of disdain.

The two were most definitely related.

Rebecka didn’t greet him that way in tandem, though; instead, she avoided eye contact and muttered a distracted, “Hello, Mr. Gushiken.” She was focused, that was all, but she’d never addressed him so unfeelingly.

He usually had her anger if nothing else.

Was he not even worth that anymore?

His father’s words echoed in his head, as they always did in moments of doubt.

Begone, you little nuisance! And get that filthy bug out of my face. Cease distracting me, Bladen. I have important work to do.

Blade’s smile faltered—he could feel it slipping, and Roland saw, even seemed to take pity on him. Blade reviled pity. “How is the guvre, Blade?” Roland asked, eyes flickering up to Marv at his post. The guard’s wild hair was clearly visible from the ground.

“Crabby.” Blade paused, side-eyeing Ms. Erring. “Any tips on that, Rebecka? I know you have much experience with that emotion.”

She dropped the burlap sack filled with glitter and whirled around with a pointed look and a narrowed gaze, about to skewer him with one sentence. Blade held his breath, an abnormal amount of excitement coursing through him at the prospect. But she didn’t say anything, just closed her mouth and turned away.

“Tell him to try organizing by color—that always lifts my spirits,” she said without any of her usual bite. Had she tired of him? Or…

Blade turned an accusatory glare on Roland. “How are you getting on out here? Sibling bonding going well?”

If he’s upset her, I’ll hit him with a rock.

Roland adjusted his glasses, smiling. “That is something Bex and I have never struggled with.”

Becky smiled, too, and Blade felt like his stomach was bottoming out to his toes. It was pleasant and unpleasant all at once, making his chest so tight that he coughed into his hand. He’d been doing that a lot lately.

“Well, good.” Blade leaned back on his heels. “What is it that you’re sprinkling the thorns with?”

Becky walked toward him, holding up the bag and looking him in the eye for the first time in days. Blade felt sick. Which was his usual response to eye contact, but this was different. It felt different. “Take a look. See if you can tell. But do not inhale!”

Blade quirked a grin and leaned down to view the powder. It looked familiar, but he couldn’t place it. “I take it inhaling it is bad?”

Becky pulled the bag away and brought it back toward the grove. “It’s derived from Forina flowers. They can be toxic if consumed, but they’re mostly used as a dye.”

“And dumping them on the thorns helps…how?” Blade asked, feeling out of his depth and more than a little behind.

Becky dumped a bit into her hand, then put the bag down. He watched as her smooth light-brown skin deepened to a red tinge. “If the powder touches your skin, it turns your hands red.” She held up her palm to show him. “Roland has arranged the magic in the grove to shift the open paths to get through every day. Only the boss will know how to get in and out without touching them. And he’s added it to the hidden opening we found earlier. Where the traitors have likely been meeting.”