Accomplice to the Villain (Assistant and the Villain, #3)(96)

“To not die,” Trystan said dryly. “That’s all I’ve got at the moment, as this was an unexpected addition to our journey.”

“Hasn’t the entirety of the journey been unexpected?” she grumbled, gripping his arm as he helped her dismount. She held up her dagger but didn’t release it. Phoenixes were peaceful animals; they weren’t known for destruction or wild temperaments. And though the purple kind was even rarer than most, they were also said to be the kindest. “They’re gentle animals. This is heartbreaking,” she whispered, watching it thrash in a possessed sort of anger.

It screeched and flung another ball of flame at her. She jolted into Trystan, and he huffed, “They’re as gentle as I am.”

“Oh, sir! You’re a genius!” She jumped excitedly, grabbing his arm.

He rubbed the back of his neck, flustered. “I wouldn’t say genius. I am a stickler for strategy and logic, but nothing more—”

Evie didn’t have the time to hear the end of his sentence. She had to act fast before she lost her nerve. Or her life. She sprinted to the animal, arms open wide.

She was going to give the fire-breathing bird…a godsforsaken hug.





Chapter 60


The Villain


Trystan had lived long enough, truly. Sage certainly seemed to think so, as she didn’t mind making blood vessels burst behind his eyes from the amount of yelling he did when she wrapped her arms around an out-of-control, murderous, immortal bird and squeezed. The animal flailed, thrashing and trying to shove its large beak into Sage’s neck.

Fortunately, as was her tendency, Sage gripped its neck in an unbreakable lock. It couldn’t reach her.

“Everything is okay,” she soothed, running her hands up and down its purple feathers. Trystan approached slowly, knowing one wrong move could set the animal off again. “It’s okay. I know it hurts and that it’s confusing. I won’t leave you alone,” she said into its feathers, and he was overwhelmed by how deeply the words affected him.

How deeply every move she made affected him.

It was even worse now that he knew what it was to hold her, to have her pliant and sweet and open to him. He’d thought a taste of what it would be like to have her would curb the wanting. And it had curbed it, only to make way for the burning.

“Evie…” he whispered. The animal stilled in her arms and…godsdamned chirped. “This cannot actually be working.”

But it was.

The large bird drooped, its neck craning down to wrap around her back. She pulled away and looked upon the destructive animal with a fierce affection. “It’s all right if you’re scared. I’m scared all the time, but lashing out when we’re hurting isn’t how to fix it.”

She pulled away, and the animal allowed it, allowed her to stick out her leg and motion to the wound. “A second of reprieve is not worth a lifetime of regret. Don’t you agree?”

The animal made a trilling sound—

Then shot a flare of purple fire at Sage’s leg.

“Fuck!” Trystan roared, running toward her until the animal screeched in his face, swatting him to the ground like a stray piece of lint.

When he stood, he fully expected to see Sage up in flames, her body scorched, and he knew his own would hollow out as his soul passed over to the deadlands from the sight. But that’s not what he saw. Sage wasn’t burned. She glowed. Her leg was fully healed, all signs of blood or torn fabric gone, and she was spinning in a circle, her skirts billowing around her, the strapless fitted bodice glittering as she moved.

And because that wasn’t enough absurdity for him, right then the clouds parted and the sun made its first formal appearance of the day, shining right onto Evie. And he realized Fowler’s gifted dress wasn’t black at all. When the sunlight hit the fabric, it shined a different color with every twirl, each ray of light on her catching a new shade until she was lit up everywhere.

Colorful. All the color in his world existed just before him.

Evie Sage is meant to be your downfall, and you her undoing.

Until you decide to forge your own path no matter what destiny says…those dreams will be all you ever have.

He’d aspired to things before Sage, career goals that still mattered. Years of planning he could not let go of and a dear little green friend who desperately needed his help. The Villain was all he’d ever been; who was he if he let that go? And could it be someone who deserved her?

You’ve always had the habit of ruining everything and everyone, haven’t you?

If the only good thing in life he ever did was ensure Sage had a happy future, he’d do it, his own fate be damned.

He’d exist without color. He’d done it for his first twenty-nine years of life—he could do it again. He had to.

The phoenix eyed him as he edged closer, hands outstretched in deference. “I’m with her.” It was an animal, so he knew there was no logical way that it raised a skeptical brow, but Trystan felt it regardless, and he rolled his eyes. Up close, he could see that the bird’s eyes were red, and…he’d never claim to be an expert at emotion, but he felt they looked somber, sad.

Sage reached out, gently stroking its beak, and whispered, “Go. Fly somewhere grand for now, and when we restore the magic, you may return, and you won’t feel so out of control.”