Accomplice to the Villain (Assistant and the Villain, #3)(97)

The sun made his eyes burn; he had to rub at them.

A ring of fire had appeared around Sage when he stopped, purple flames trapping her in place. Trystan rushed at the flames and felt the heat burn into his arms as he reached for her. Sage gasped, gripping both his hands, drawing him into the circle with her before he burned any further.

He held on to her hips to steady himself, and his forehead landed against hers. Her shoulder glowed, the dagger in her hand, too, and it was the damnedest thing, but Trystan began to feel a little like he was glowing as well. She flicked his nose and scrunched hers.

I love you, he thought.

The phoenix trilled, a sad sound as it looked upon the villagers screaming in its direction.

Villagers who used to worship the animal, now holding pitchforks and weapons, ready to destroy the being who once protected them.

It made him feel compassion.

He’d retch over a basin later.

Looking the animal in the eye, he steadied his voice. “They’ll forgive you. And if they don’t, you’ll have a home at Massacre Manor. We’ve made a habit of taking in strays.”

The phoenix let out a final screech before launching for the skies, and the village fell quiet as the fires fizzled into nothing more than bits of ash. The smells of burned hay and smoke scratched the inside of his nose and throat—it explained the burning in his eyes.

He coughed into his hand. “How did you know that would work?”

Sage gave him a pointed look. “You said they were as gentle as you are, and I remembered that even villains need a bit of softness every now and again. Forgiveness even more.”

Trystan pushed a hand through his hair, in desperate need of a trim. “I care nothing for forgiveness.”

Sage hummed, and he knew she saw right through him. “Fine, then. You’re right, and I’m wrong.”

It didn’t feel like a victory.

He followed her. They searched out his sister and Tatianna, finding them healing two young girls with burns on their hands by the village’s entrance. Tatianna smiled at the little girl he’d saved, pulling one of the many pink bows from her hair and clipping it into the little girl’s braid.

Trystan froze when every pair of eyes landed on him. Realization dawned from one person to the next, a teetering deck of cards, falling one by one until they all connected that the man and women who’d helped them could fetch a very generous reward.

Trystan waited for them to call the Valiant Guard, for someone to scream and point, to be what he’d been for more than half his life. Spurned.

Instead, one of the elderly gentlemen hobbled to the front of the line and slammed his palms together repeatedly.

“What’s he doing?” Trystan said to no one in particular.

“That’s called clapping, Tryst,” Clare whispered.

“I realize that,” he hissed. “Why are they doing it right now?”

The little girl toddled forward, her mother following carefully after her until she was at Trystan’s feet. “Uh…hello?”

Her cherub cheeks were rosy, and her smile was cheery. “Here, Mr. The Villain.” In her hand was a singular dandelion. “For a wish.”

He looked at it and then back to the little girl, her curly brown locks giving him hideous pause as he contemplated a future he knew could never exist.

“Thank you,” he said, his throat burning, though the smoke had long gone.

“Make a wish now,” she whispered around cupped hands, and Trystan stared at the dandelion, incredulous. But then he closed his eyes and blew. Wisps of seeds flew like floating snow.

“Thank you, uh, Mr. Maverine? Do you have a preference as to what you’re called?” the young mother asked him.

“I don’t know. Nobody’s ever asked,” Trystan said honestly, and a few nervous chuckles made their way through the crowd.

“In any case, thank you for saving my Annette, and thank both of you on behalf of the whole village for saving us from that monster.”

Sage murmured quietly beside him, “I’d wager the bird wasn’t the only monster present today.” Trystan followed her gaze to the men in the back who were still holding tight to their pitchforks. Her ire was so palpable, all of them dropped them at once. “Remember, down the line, when it matters, that forgiveness is canine. Meaning if a dog can do it, then you certainly can.” Her encouragements were coming out more and more threatening each time.

And he was having immense trouble not letting himself beam with pride.

“On our way?” Sage asked the three of them and Kingsley, who peeked his head out of Clare’s satchel, looking half asleep, crown crooked and eyelids drooped.

“Have a nice nap?” Trystan said sardonically, mounting his steed and placing the frog on his shoulder.

The rest followed suit, and they heard a few hearty goodbyes called after them as they trotted down the cobblestone road.

“So…now we head to the border, right? Or do we have to make a stop at your…mother’s house?” Sage asked as they passed into the woods.

“We can’t enter my home village the normal way,” Trystan admitted, dreading this part of the journey. “My mother has eyes all over town. She’ll know we’re coming. I’ll have my contact arrange to make a stop, discreetly. Through Benevolent Village’s docks. ”