Assistant to the Villain (Assistant to the Villain, #1) (118)

“No.” Evie threw her body in front of his.

“Sage, move,” Trystan gritted out, sounding strangled.

“No,” she said, panicking.

The king shook his head sympathetically, nodding toward another knight. “It would do you well not to struggle, my dear.” Such kindness in his voice. Evie would’ve trusted that kindness, in another place, when she was another person.

The knight reached down in a flash, gripping her by the waist and hoisting her off Trystan. “No! Get off me!” she screamed, kicking and flailing, swiping her hands out. The knight dropped her for a second and raised his arm high before backhanding her. She fell.

“Stop!” It was The Villain’s voice, not Trystan’s, that cut across the clearing. It was cold and deadly. “Step away from her!” he roared, the clinking of metal following his every movement as he pulled against his cuffs. Evie rolled to her side, looking at him, feeling a tear slide down her cheek.

She pulled herself up, blood dripping from her lower lip, leaves tangled in her hair.

“Yes, stop. The brutality is hardly necessary. He’s chained. He cannot hurt anyone, and if you cannot handle that woman without harming her, perhaps we should rethink your position as one of my guards,” the king said firmly.

Trystan didn’t look to be in great pain anymore, but he was obviously weakened. From that minute of torture or from the cuffs, she was unsure.

“I didn’t want it to come to this, really.” The king tsked. “I was hoping to keep this clean, but you’ve really left me no choice. You’ve simply interfered too much. I was content to let you play your little fairy-tale role for as long as you desired.” He walked closer to The Villain, the well-formed smile disappearing into coldness.

“But now you’re trying to ruin my plans. And that, I’m afraid, I cannot allow.”

Trystan was breathing heavily, nostrils flared, eyes glazed over with rage. “What…are you talking about?” he gritted out.

The king clicked his tongue as he looked down at her boss. “So much potential, yet how disappointing you were.” Benedict knelt beside him, putting a hand on Trystan’s cheek that he tried to shake off. “The guvres—I have a great need of them. To aid in Rennedawn’s very…bright future.”

Trystan narrowed his eyes before saying in a pinched, breathless voice, “Fuck. You.”

“I second that,” Evie said from the ground, drawing the attention of every man surrounding her.

“And that brings me to you, Ms. Sage!” The king turned around and started walking toward her.

“Don’t touch her, Benedict.” Trystan’s voice was raw as he pulled once again at his chains.

“You were supposed to be my sweet little savior, but it turns out you’re just as rotten as your father said.”

She glared at him. “My father was a liar. But you…” Evie slowly stood, brushing the leaves from her skirts and the blood from her lip. “You’re a coward.”

The king smiled at her. Not the charming one he’d arrived with, but a sinister one, a vindictive one. It didn’t look natural; it was almost…villainous.

“I’m afraid I need my guvres back, Ms. Sage,” he said. “You see, without her mate, my guvre was unable to produce any venom in all my time with her. But now, it would seem, she does.”

“You’ll get them over my cold, dead body,” she said, smiling. “Or yours.”

“I’m so glad you said that.” The king’s cape swept behind him as he returned to Trystan, who was still being held back by two knights. “I’m afraid you’re going to need to come with me. It would seem you’re of more use than I originally suspected.”

The king turned to Evie with a sad tilt of his head. “You, my dear, are not.”

Evie felt large arms close around her and a familiar vile scent flood her senses.

“No! Benedict!” Trystan was going wild, tearing at the chains and the knights so hard, a third had to join in restraining him. “Let her go, Warsen, or this day will be your last.”

“Such pretty threats!”

Evie was disgusted to find her suspicions confirmed when she heard Otto Warsen’s voice in her ear.

“Thank you for the cuffs, Mr. Warsen. You’ve been most helpful.” The king nodded at the blacksmith.

“I’m going to kill you,” Trystan vowed calmly. “I am going to rip your heart out of your body, and I will watch the life leave your eyes.”

“I believe I’ll see the light leave yours first,” the king said in a mock whisper before turning back to Evie and Mr. Warsen. “You may finish her off as you please; just be sure to save the body. I’ll have use for it after she’s gone.”

Evie began to shake, the panic at finding herself once again in this situation with Otto washing through her like a fast-acting poison.

“No, Benedict, no! Please.” The Villain’s voice cracked, pained, shattering his composure.

Evie felt tears burn before flowing down her face.

“Please, I beg you. I will do anything you ask, anything you want. Anything, if you’ll spare her. Just please—I beg you to spare her.”

When Trystan, The Villain, dropped to his knees, Evie cried.

“I. Beg. You.”