Assistant to the Villain (Assistant to the Villain, #1) (81)

“I prefer the word ‘nincompoops,’” Evie said thoughtfully.

“Why?” The Villain angled his head at her.

“Because it sounds funnier.”

He sighed like he was exhausted. “I don’t have a response to that.”

“Excellent.” She nodded, itching to leave before his scrutinizing gaze burned a hole through her. But something occurred to her that gave her enough courage to look right at him as she asked, “What did Joshua Lightenston say about me?”

Evie tried not to flinch when his eyes darted away from hers and found something interesting out the window beside the table. “I don’t recall.”

“You don’t recall?” Evie said skeptically. “You, who recalled during an inventory the other day that you’d only fired seven arrows at some knight last year, can’t remember what an intern said a few weeks ago?”

She watched The Villain clench his jaw, and suddenly, she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. Because, whatever was said about her, it must be unbelievably bad if even someone with as evil a heart as Trystan couldn’t bear to repeat it.

“Never mind,” Evie said quickly, her stomach twisting. “I really don’t want to know.”

He sighed. “Joshua Lightenston was impertinent. Let’s leave it at that, Sage.”

“All right.” Evie swallowed, wringing her hands together.

“That’s it?” He looked at her suspiciously, and his knowledge of her notorious stubborn streak sent a pang of familiar comfort through her.

“That’s it.” Evie offered what she hoped was a convincing smile. This wasn’t the first time someone had said something mean about her. It certainly wouldn’t be the last. “I’m tired, sir. I think I’ll head home.”

All of a sudden, the exhaustion from the last several days nearly buckled her knees. The guvre, her injuries, the gossip. It all just seemed too much, and she wanted to go home. To go to sleep. As if to prove her point, a large yawn escaped her mouth as she rushed to cover it with her palm.

“I’ll take you home,” he said, stretching his shoulders.

“That’s not necessary, sir,” Evie said, feeling herself sway from the exhaustion.

He put a hand on her arm to steady her. “Yes. It is.”

As he gathered his maps and guided her away, Evie couldn’t help but remember why she’d sought him out in the first place. Someone had stolen a map.

And Trystan knew who it was.





Chapter 38


Evie


The carriage ride was silent.

It seemed the only thing that could stop the track of Evie’s mouth was bone-deep tiredness, and her boss looked concerned. He kept subtly glancing at her, careful not to move his head, but Evie saw it anyway.

“You’ll have to drop me off far enough from the house that Lyssa doesn’t see you, or she’ll never let you leave.” Her voice was quiet, a rarity.

She saw him nod in her peripheral vision. “But how will she get more material for her next installment of Trystan and the Lost Princess?”

“I suppose she’ll just have to get creative.” Evie bumped her leg against his, playfully, hoping he’d bump hers back. He was still for a moment, but his thigh eventually moved toward hers, lightly tapping it.

Evie smiled and settled into the cushioned seat, staring off to her side at the passing trees, trying not to get nauseous. They were moving at a leisurely pace, the carriage rolling slowly down the dirt road, neither of them in a hurry, it seemed.

She leaned her head back but snapped up immediately when she saw something that made her heart bottom out to her feet.

Off in the distance. A lone figure walked through the trees, far away from the path. She squinted when she couldn’t make out their face, only to realize there was no way to see their face, because they were wearing a mask. The mask with King Benedict’s emblem on it.

“Oh my—” Hiking her skirts up, she stood in the carriage, ignoring her boss’s questioning look.

“Sage?”

But she didn’t answer him. Instead, she took a deep breath—and jumped out, stumbling off-kilter for a moment but then sticking the landing. And then she ran.

“Sage!”

Evie sprinted toward the figure in the woods, holding up her skirts. She heard the furious shouts from The Villain behind her and ignored them. The spy would get away—she knew they would, because the masked figure had spotted her before she even left the carriage and had started to run, too.

But she wouldn’t let them get away—she couldn’t. She picked up her speed, kicking her heeled boots harder. Closer and closer she came to the running figure until she leaped through the air, slamming into the spy and both of them tumbling to the ground.

They rolled, each trying to get the upper hand. The masked figure took a swing and Evie dodged the small fist, wrestling the figure beneath her as her gaze locked on to her assailant’s very familiar eyes.

Her lips parted when she realized who it was beneath her, quickly accompanied by horror. She could hear The Villain fast approaching behind them, but Evie reached up before he arrived, yanking the mask from the figure’s head.

She gasped and scrambled to her feet, fearful she’d empty the contents of her stomach right there.