“Nefarious is in the job title. Now, perhaps you’d be willing to quit stalling and tell me the name of every person who’s bought blue ink from you in the last three months.” The Villain gritted his teeth, standing to full height and practically creating shadows around him with his anger.
For the first time since they’d arrived, Clare looked at her brother like he was someone to fear, someone to run from. Evie knew that’s exactly what he wanted.
“I only sold two jars in the last month, Trystan. The first was to a forlorn widower, and the other…”
“What? The other what?” Tatianna pressed.
Clare winced before pulling a tattered book out from underneath the floorboards. “I didn’t know who he was until he signed his name.”
The Villain’s hand landed heavily on the table. “Tell me. Now.”
“The man introduced himself as Lark Moray.” She bit her lip and pointed to the signature below the name. “But he signed the ledger with one of the Valiant Guards’ sigils.”
The boss pored over the book, flipping page after page until every muscle seemed to lock at once. Then he turned on his heel and strode past them both, yanking the door open and striding out.
Clare stalked after him, gripping the black shirt on his forearms. “When is it going to stop, Tryst?” Her voice rose with each word. “When will it be enough that you’ll finally stop?”
Evie and Tatianna followed them both outside, standing and watching the scene helplessly.
Her boss stood there quietly for a moment before gently prying Clare’s fingers from his arm. “King Benedict went after you and Malcolm and everything I’ve built to oppose him. I knew that when this day would come, only one of us would make it out alive. I’ve learned to live with that.”
“This last hateful decade of revenge can end—you can make it so! He’d hardly recognize you now. You can move on.” The crack in Clarissa’s voice splintered something in Evie’s heart.
“You knew King Benedict?” Evie asked quietly.
His brows pulled down as a haunted look came over his dark eyes. “I worked for him…for a time.” He sucked in a large breath, seeming to brace himself for pain.
Evie’s head whipped back before she looked at him with wide eyes. “You worked for King Benedict? When?”
Trystan, The Villain, looked at Evie with a gravity that made her heart sink. “Before.”
“Before what?” Evie said, exasperated and a little fearful of his response.
“Before I became…what I am now.” There was a sharpness punctuating the sentence, like the very idea was painful.
“A monster,” Clarissa snapped, a bitter, wounded expression on her face. Before Evie could assess her boss’s reaction, though, Clarissa spun around and stormed back inside her home. She slammed the door, and the daisies painted on the wooden surface seemed to jump from the force.
“Sir, that’s not— I don’t think you’re—um.” Evie couldn’t think of the right thing to say, so instead she settled for asking, “What happened between you and King Benedict?”
The Villain’s face was unreadable as he said, “I don’t see how that is important for you to know, Sage.”
The words weren’t said to be cruel—Evie could tell he meant them as a dry and logical statement. Still, it felt pointed, and it stung. The blow of it must’ve shown on her face, because his mask seemed to crack just the tiniest bit.
“Sage, I did not mean—”
“I think it’s time to head back, don’t you?” she said, then started to walk into the forest without waiting to see if anyone followed. She kept her shoulders back, ignoring the prickling along the sides of her neck and cheeks. The grass crunched under her boots as she walked, helping drown out the sound of Tatianna’s calls for her to wait for them. Evie just wanted to return to the manor before one more ridiculous thing left her lips.
Tatianna’s voice grew distant, but Evie still heard her say, “Were you always this dumb, Trystan? Or is it a recently acquired skill?”
“As always, thank you for your help, Tati,” The Villain replied as the heavy fall of his boots caught up to her.
Sunlight brushed against Evie’s cheek, but she no longer felt the heat as keenly as she did before. Branches brushed against her arms as she was suddenly struck by all the things she didn’t know.
And all the ways that lack of knowledge could get Trystan killed if she didn’t find a way to stop it—soon.