It was nice that quite a few interns had magic, as many of them accomplished their tasks quicker.
That sure must be useful for cleaning the toilets. Evie snickered inwardly.
But they kept applying, coming back, despite the harshness of the job.
The proof was in the pile of letters laden with words of woe and how a down-on-his-luck son of a noble found himself in deep debt to a very expensive brothel. It was always someone in desperate need of a second chance, and though the danger of the job was well-known in less-desirable parts of the kingdom, so was the pay.
Evie was quite certain the interns made only slightly less than she did. Which in any other circumstance might cause her some level of outrage, but she was working for The Villain. She would be grateful she held one of the only job positions that didn’t call for her Scatter Day participation.
The event took place at the end of every work week, unless of course the boss was having a bad day. Then it could be the beginning of the week, the middle of the week, in the morning, during her lunch hour, or… Well, she could go on. It was, at the very least, consistent in that every Scatter Day consisted of the boss sending the interns outside and having them run from something. So far, she’d watched them try to escape a crossbow and countless magical beasts. But Evie’s personal favorite was the day the boss was so fed up with their antics that he began chasing them himself across the back courtyard.
It was the fastest she’d ever seen them run.
“I’ll remind you that, at your bequest, I haven’t actually killed an intern in several months.”
Evie shook her head hopelessly. “Sir, I hate to belittle your successes, but there are people who go their entire lives without killing anyone.”
His face remained serious. “How dull.”
“You also can’t even really say months, can you? You pushed Joshua Lightenston off this very parapet last week, and he broke his neck.”
“Well, he deserved it.”
She threw her hands up in defeat. “Why?”
The boss rubbed his chin and grimaced like an unpleasant memory had resurfaced. “He said something I didn’t like.”
“If I had that luxury, Becky would’ve gone over this thing several times already.” Evie took a contemplative pause. “Actually, sir—”
“No.”
“But what if I make a very official and organized pro/con list?” she pleaded.
“Give me one con to Rebecka Erring as an employee.” The breeze picked up, tossing that rebellious dark lock against his forehead.
“She’s determined to be my enemy.”
His face was suddenly closed again, so suddenly that Evie heard the sharp intake of her breath. “Always keep your enemies close, Sage. Life’s more interesting that way.” The smile he was giving her now held no joy, only cruel promises.
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.”