Assistant to the Villain (Assistant to the Villain, #1) (50)

“Well…” She waited, considering the words. “Actually, yes, I suppose that sums it up pretty nicely.”

“You use too many words to say simple things, Evie.” Her sister patted her head before grabbing a book she’d placed on the ground. “You should only use a couple. People understand better that way.”

Smiling and feeling a little lighter, Evie got out of bed and waved her sister off. She watched out the window as Lyssa ran in the direction of her school. Then she padded barefoot across the kitchen floor and pulled the spigot to get a cup of water.

She looked down to the employer’s bargain on her pinkie finger, narrowing her eyes at it. She’d expected some sort of recourse for disobeying the promise. After all, she’d quit. Where was her reckoning? Or was it a slow death? Would she be going about her day and then suddenly her heart would stop? She’d have to fix it, or Lyssa would be left all alone and—

A rasping cough came from behind her, causing her to jump and spill her cup on the floor. “I’m sorry,” her father rasped again, collapsing hard into the chair, face pale and drawn. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Papa.” She moved to his side, crouching before him. “Have you been taking the medicine my friend made special for you?”

He smiled guiltily, taking a shaky hand to his forehead to dab off the sweat there. “I didn’t think I needed it. I’ve been feeling so much better.”

Evie shook her head, trying not to chastise him. Her father didn’t always do well to give care where he should. After Gideon died and her mother departed soon after, Evie’s father had fallen into such despair, he couldn’t bring himself to even hold Lyssa. They’d decided as a family that Evie would continue her education at home, away from the schoolhouse and all her friends, to assist in raising her little sister.

A sacrificed childhood was a small penance for how Evie had failed her family, her mother, Gideon. She wondered if that was why she could be so impulsive, so headstrong. Every childish part of her should’ve had the chance to change and grow. But instead, it was stifled, like a flower cut right as it was about to bloom.

Her father’s eyes suddenly widened, and he attempted to stand on shaky legs. “Is Lyssa still here? I don’t want to frighten her. She’s been so happy seeing me so well.”

“She’s off to school already,” Evie assured him. She moved his arm over her shoulder and walked him back to his bedroom. “Papa, you need to take better care of yourself. If not for your own sake, then for Lyssa’s.”

Evie helped him gently onto the bed, pulling the covers up under his chin, then reached into the drawer of his dresser. Quickly finding the small vial of medicine, she measured out a few drops. “Open,” she commanded.

After the medicine had a few minutes to make its way through his system, her father’s eyes began to close. “Why aren’t you at work today, dear one?”

Evie pulled the knitted blanket off the cushioned armchair beside her father’s bed and draped it around her waist as she sat down.

“I had a fight with my boss,” she said, pleased to be able to share at least an ounce of honesty with her father.

His mouth pinched. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it wasn’t all that bad.” Smiling at her, he continued. “Perhaps you might go and apologize.”

Evie tried to ignore the sting that her father assumed it was she who did something wrong. “I don’t think that would help the situation very much, unfortunately.”

He gave her a dubious look, his eyes beginning to droop again. “If you want an old man’s advice, be honest.” Clearing his throat once more and placing a hand on his chest, her father got a faraway look in his eyes. “There is so much that can be fixed by honesty, if you’re brave enough to use it. It’s something I wish I had been more with your mother.”

The mention of Nura surprised Evie. “I— You never talk about Mama.”

Her father smiled sadly at her, causing a dull ache to build in her chest. “It is painful even now, to think of what your mother did to your brother. What she could’ve done to you and Lyssa.”

“I don’t think she meant to hurt us that day, Papa.” After her mother had given birth to Lyssa, their mother’s magic awoke in a flurry of divine light. Nura Sage had been blessed by the gods with the power of starlight. A magic so pure and rare, when the magical specialist came to assess her, he’d brought tidings of joy from King Benedict himself. But what was supposed to be a divine blessing became their family’s very downfall.

The months that followed Lyssa’s birth were filled with unending sadness. Their mother’s magic seemed to drain every ounce of life from her; even the color in Nura Sage’s cheeks had disappeared. Evie’s father had urged her to distract her mother, lighten her load. Gideon had needed to focus on his schoolwork—something Evie would’ve liked to do as well, but Gideon hadn’t known that. He was the sort of brother who would give you his toy if he saw you wanted to play with it. Evie knew he’d give up too much for her if she asked, so she never did.

And then everything got worse.

“I hate even thinking of that day.” Her father’s face twisted into a bitter expression before relaxing. “I was working when your mother dragged you three to the dandelion fields, and I regret going in early that morning every day of my life.”