Assistant to the Villain (Assistant to the Villain, #1) (15)
Evie swallowed hard, disappointed in herself for needing to take a slow step backward. Out of his sphere and back to her senses.
“Speaking of enemies. May we get to what I brought you out here to discuss before the other employees begin to believe that I’m throwing you over the edge?” he asked.
Evie rolled her eyes and motioned her hand forward. “Go on.”
His mouth turned down in a frown as he spun away from her, back to the forest view. “Another shipment has been compromised.”
Evie tried not to groan, but the frustration was palpable. It had taken her weeks to organize that shipment trade-off and plan the perfect undetectable checkpoints between here and the Gleaming City. The office was run on illegal cargo coming in and out, selling it, trading it, stealing it from King Benedict directly most of the time.
“I suspected as much, since I saw the extra…” Evie tapped the top of her head lightly with her pointer finger.
“They were Valiant Guards.”
King Benedict’s personal guards? They never involved themselves in The Villain’s business. It was a point of strangeness to her, in fact, that in all the times The Villain had struck Benedict by lifting his resources, stealing cargo of all kinds, he’d never struck back.
“So I assume we didn’t make it out with any of the borrowed goods?” This trade deal was going to bring in at least four large crates filled with weapons from King Benedict’s personal collection. Depleting them of not only the swords and firearms themselves but the value of the weapons would no doubt be an enormous loss to their esteemed ruler.
Or it would’ve been if the whole thing hadn’t been blown to bits.
“My Malevolent Guards were able to make out with two of them.”
The Malevolent Guards were the elite group of people who managed the more violent parts of The Villain’s business—the fieldwork, some of the interns had coined it. The most ruthless warriors were among them, many of them magic users of varying kinds and educations. Most in the office steered clear of them, but Evie helped Edwin make them sandwiches.
Shoot, I forgot to restock the cheese. They are fiends for provolone.
“That’s better than none at all, I suppose,” Evie responded. She would accept any small favors if it meant not scouring a map, looking for another discreet trade from natural paths in the forest.
“Always the optimist, aren’t you, Sage?” His tone was light, but his face told her he didn’t think that was a good thing.
“I like anticipating the good—that way it’s easier to see it…even when the bad happens.”
The boss looked at her with some unreadable emotion. “If we could all see the world through your eyes.”
“It would be very colorful.” She smiled wide and turned her face up to the breeze. “So that’s three shipments compromised in the last two months.”
“Three too many.” His voice was lower suddenly. A deadly tone that she’d seen make the bravest of knights shiver with fear. She, for some reason, found it comforting, which was…troubling.
Danger isn’t attractive, Evie; it’s scary.
Or…it’s both, her brain countered.
“Aside from the little hangmen downstairs, how are you planning on handling this?” Evie was afraid of the answer, but this was becoming a very distinct pattern. Systems that had worked for them for months were suddenly failing, and the common denominator was becoming very clear.
“We have a traitor in our midst,” he said in a low voice.
Evie sucked in a breath, because he stood tall and dark, promising destruction, and all she could think was…
“How can I help?”
…
Evie was certain the clock on the wall ticked louder when she was trying to focus. Each stroke of the small hand felt like it was grating against her skull.
Tick-tick-tick.
“Ugh.” Evie threw her head down on her desk. She’d been going over the list of employees for the last two days in her favorite gold-foiled journal, writing little notes next to their names. Any indicators of suspicion or skewed loyalties had to be recorded. She’d figure out who was sabotaging them, and she’d hand them on a silver platter to her boss.
“What are you working on?” Ah, the other grating in her skull.
Evie picked her head up and closed her notebook, nearly taking out Rebecka Erring’s wandering hand. She quickly returned her quill to her favorite tincture of ink, a gift from her father. “Nothing you need concern yourself with.” Evie pinched her lips tightly into a smile, trying to keep every inflammatory word inside her head.
“Why are you making a list of employees’ names? I need to know everything that goes on in this office,” Becky said with a pompous sniff.
Evie considered the woman closely and then leaned her chin against her propped hands. “Does that mean you’re aware of the office pixies using ink to make self-portraits of their rear ends?” The pixies handled small tasks around the office, usually acting as scribes. It was quick work for them, since there were so many, but their erratic temperaments occasionally made them get creative with the ink.
A frustrated groan escaped Becky as she straightened and shook her head. “Again?” She turned quickly, eyes narrowing behind her glasses as she caught sight of the tiny fluttering creatures. All giggling as they scattered the papers about the room.