Accomplice to the Villain (Assistant and the Villain, #3)(94)
Evie’s dagger vibrated against her thigh. She willed it to fly into her hand, then angled the blade at Fowler. “So you’re going to let innocent people suffer? People who are counting on you?”
It shouldn’t have been surprising to her that when given the choice of whether to help others, many instead willfully chose to hurt them. As a child, she had been taught that it was the villains who made that choice, but now she realized it was actually the boastful kings and lords—the ones who accepted love but not responsibility.
The day she ceased fully being surprised by it was the day she’d never recover herself. And with every new shred of ugliness, she felt that day growing closer and closer.
But not this day.
“People should know not to expect that.” Fowler tsked. “I hardly have the reputation for it.”
She was no longer listening, however; with newfound expertise, she kicked her leg into the stirrup and swung her body atop her horse. She squeezed her thighs against the horse’s sides, taking off into a trot and then a gallop.
“Sage! Where are you going?” Trystan yelled from behind her, the rattle of buckles signaling he and the others were about to follow.
“Don’t be a hero, Ms. Sage!” Lord Fowler yelled, but his tone was bored.
Her dagger glowed in her hand, her rainbow scar tingling at her shoulder in answer. She smiled, feeling cool anger sweep through every vein in her body.
“Oh, I won’t.”
Chapter 59
Evie
It was incredible what a little adrenaline could do for one’s confidence. And Evie certainly felt confident as she rode through Hickory Forest at a relentless pace, her curls streaming behind her with each gallop. The black boning of her bodice was keeping her back straight, the tip of her blade pointed outward in one hand.
She wondered what sort of portrait she painted from a distance. A wild woman with wild hair, dressed in black, riding straight for a monster at a warrior’s pace. The Wicked Woman, they’d whisper. She’s as evil as they say. Or…she would be.
“Go on.” She urged the animal faster with just a few words, knowing words were far more powerful than any riding crop, that words of encouragement, in particular, meant far more than the threat of pain. “Hurry!”
The path widened, and before Evie could say anything more, she was riding down cobblestone streets, straight for the quaint village’s main square. People were screaming and running in all directions, but mostly away from the being she was riding toward. A rumble in the air was her only warning before a large ball of purple fire sailed over her head and right for a small house just off the square.
Another, and the horse was on her hind legs. “Whoa. Whoa!” she soothed. “It’s okay!” When her hooves met the concrete, Evie leaped off and grabbed the reins, shushing the animal and quickly guiding her as far from the square as she could manage. “Don’t worry,” she whispered, “I’ll lead the animal away.” Evie swore the mare chuffed in response.
Sprinting back to the square, she held her dagger tightly in her hand, ducking as a large purple feather-covered animal dipped low, but she’d ducked too late—its long, sharp claws sank into her leg as it dragged her up. Its beak was curved and as black as onyx, its eyes empty. She screamed, jamming her blade into the top of its foot, and it released her. Her heart fell to her feet as she landed with a hard thud against a straw roof. “Ah.” Evie held tight to her bleeding wound, a violent sting searing along her skin as she pushed. Blood soaked through the pants beneath her skirts, black opalescent fabric staining red. “Wonderful.”
The phoenix continued to screech above, sending purple flames over three houses in a row. More running and more screaming from people hidden among those homes, including a child who could’ve been no more than a few months over three. Toddling, crying, and utterly alone.
“Oh no,” Evie whispered. “Someone help her!” she yelled at the people below, but no one seemed to hear. Desperately searching for a safe place to jump down without breaking something, Evie started to panic when she realized there was none.
She was used to breaking things, so really, what did that matter?
The little girl fell and cried out.
“I’m coming!” Evie yelled, scooching painfully down to the roof’s edge, in a fury by the time she got there as she watched countless adults run past the little girl. “Help her!” she screamed one last time.
She knew she wouldn’t be much use to the girl with a broken leg, but if she fell just right, perhaps it would only be an arm. The girl looked thin; surely she would need only the one to carry her to safety.
But before Evie could jump, the child was wrapped in someone’s arms. No, not someone—something. Something…dark and gray.
“Sir?” Evie called, recognizing The Villain’s magic. The man appeared shortly after, his dark steed making him look every bit the terror the kingdom thought he was.
But Evie knew who he was.
He leaped off his horse and picked up the crying girl, murmuring words Evie couldn’t hear from where she sat but ones she knew were comforting, for the child quieted down in a moment, smiling shyly in his arms, and Evie’s heart began to make uncomfortable comments to the rest of her.
He rode in the other direction, toward the gathered crowd, handing the child to a crying mother who grabbed Trystan by both shoulders and pulled him into a hug.