The dragon trainer stiffened, his hands fidgeting as his eyes darted toward the extra growth in Trystan’s usually cleanly honed stubble on his chin. “Rough night?” Blade asked.
“I’ll cut your tongue out,” Trystan threatened.
“Right.” Blade nodded. “Fair. Before you do that, can you settle a matter for me?”
Trystan pinched the bridge of his nose, battling away a writhing headache. “What?”
“I would like your permission to name the dragon.”
He narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Did you not name him already?”
“All the books say you’re not supposed to name them until after they’ve completed their training,” Blade insisted.
“And how reputable is this book you’re taking such careful advice from?”
“Well…” He chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m unsure. Mostly because everything it’s told me to do thus far seems to only anger or frighten the wits out of him. But I figure I would be a little crabby, too, if I had nothing to call myself.”
“I have a few things I’d like to call you.” Trystan tried to add a threatening edge to his voice, but all his senses felt duller this morning, like he’d been in the dark for too long.
“Can you suggest a few for the dragon first?” The hopeful look in the trainer’s eyes reminded Trystan too much of someone he needed to stop thinking about before he sent a chair through the window.
“I don’t know.” Trystan paused, a strange thought coming over him. “Fluffy. Name him Fluffy.”
Blade’s head whipped backward, mouth falling slightly open. “Fluffy…sir?”
“It’s an adequate name, I’m told,” he muttered defensively. Trystan didn’t like the appraising look in the trainer’s eyes. “Now get out of my face, Gushiken. I’m very busy.”
Blade nodded, taking a step backward. “Right away, sir.” He spun toward the door but stopped, his palm above the handle. The brawny man swallowed hard, then turned back to face Trystan, looking like he was about to lose his lunch.
“What—？”
But Trystan never finished his sentence, because Blade’s words were tumbling out so quick, several veins in the man’s forehead began to pop.
“It was me, sir! The employment offer from King Benedict—it was mine.”
Trystan froze, idly wondering how his heart could be pounding in his chest when his blood had turned to ice.
“Explain,” he bit out, the word so clipped and cold, he watched Blade shiver.
Gushiken stepped forward, pushing his shoulders back, clearly trying to summon bravery. His story spilled out in waves, and Trystan didn’t speak until he knew the dragon trainer had finished.
Blade spoke of his childhood in the kingdom’s capital, his father’s political career on Rennedawn’s council, Blade’s affinity for animals and magical creatures. How he’d only kept the letter to remind himself that he’d made the right choice coming here.
Trystan’s body went taut when Blade’s story pulled in Evie. While Blade spoke, Trystan kept his face impassive, but his mind was racing, adrenaline pumping through him.
“She kept the letter to make sure I fessed up. She gave me the chance to tell you myself because she is kind and a good friend. But make no mistake, sir; she is completely loyal to you. This whole thing is all my fault. If you want to fire me or, you know…murder me? I completely understand.”
I wanted to give…someone else the chance to tell you first.
Sage’s voice cut through the pounding blackness that was feeding into The Villain’s mind, like a rainbow slicing through the endings of a vicious storm.
I should say thank you. For proving even promised trust can be broken.
Sage had stumbled backward like he’d struck her—because he had. But The Villain had been too stubborn, too triggered by his past betrayals to see anything but his own hurt.
Trystan had called her a hypocrite when it was becoming glaringly obvious the only person guilty of hypocrisy was himself.
She had wanted him to have enough faith in her, to trust her, and instead he’d punished her. Trystan held Blade’s gaze. “You should not have kept this from me, Gushiken.”
Blade nodded, ducking his head. “If I had known the trouble it would cause, believe me, I wouldn’t have.”
“Believe you?” Something dark was creeping into Trystan’s voice as he begrudgingly realized what it felt like to be wrong. It felt horrible. “I don’t know what to believe right now. But believe this: if you ever find yourself lying to me again or implicating another employee because of your carelessness, you will find your head adorning my rafters.”