Chapter 26
Evie
“This is him! This is The Villain!” Jayne Fairmond yelped, drawing the attention of several villagers in the square.
It was a busy selling day, carts and vendors lining the streets. Colorful fabrics were draped high, the glitter of the material brought from the Lavender Seas and the merfolk who resided there catching the light of the sun. Fresh scents of bread—probably not as good as Edwin’s, but she’d call it a close second—danced along Evie’s nose.
But her tranquility was ruined by someone raving about her boss on her day off. Now she had to put on a performance.
“A picture of The Villain?” She needed to sound fearful if she didn’t want to raise suspicion. It was no secret to others in the kingdom that The Villain had sympathizers, and they were considered villainous scum as well. Evie thought she should shriek when she saw the poster—and nearly did when she saw the sad portrayal of whatever this sketch artist was trying to convey.
Whoever was supposed to be represented in the wanted flyer wasn’t just old; they were ancient. The nose wasn’t even close, and the hair was wrong for many reasons, one of them being it was on fire. His tongue was out and forked like a serpent, and Evie yelped when she saw a beard so long, it covered most of the bottom of the page.
“Do you have another one of these?” She pushed her smile down so hard, it made her eyes water. Coughing, she said, “I would like to make sure I never forget the face of the traitor.”
Jayne nodded, eyes glittering in approval as she reached into her satchel and handed Evie another awful poster. One she was going to frame and put right on her boss’s desk.
“Thank you.” She sniffed, wiping an imaginary tear from her eye. “He’s so vile.”
“Don’t worry, Evie. One day the Valiant Guards will catch the traitor and stop all the destruction he’s caused,” Jayne insisted, clutching the poster so hard that she crumpled the paper.
“What destruction, exactly?” Evie asked innocently.
Jayne reeled back, a look of astonishment on her face. “How can you even ask me that, Evangelina?” She held her hand to her chest dramatically, looking all too much like a woman about to faint. “His crimes are too horrendous to speak of.”
Ah, now Evie understood. “You can’t name a single one, can you?”
Jayne crossed her arms over her large bust. “Of course I can! I just have the good sense not to speak of it.” Jayne glared at her, looking as if she wanted to rip the flyer from Evie’s hands. “The reason you can afford to work is only by the benevolence of King Benedict. If it were up to The Villain, you probably wouldn’t even have a job.”
“So true, Jayne. So true.” Evie nodded sagely, then whipped around before the woman could spy the smile Evie couldn’t contain a minute longer. Instead, she headed off to the center of town, where the crowds would be less, well, crowded.
A few minutes later, Evie sat against the edge of the large fountain that marked the very center of their village. Another week’s end was to have come and gone, and she still felt like she was drowning, like all her worries were weights on her feet, dragging her under until she couldn’t breathe.
She noted her father was doing better, at the very least, as he sat with several friends in the courtyard. His complexion had a healthy glow today as he conversed happily, Lyssa’s arms hooked around one of his legs, her head tilted up as though she were hanging on his every word. Together they had every appearance of a happy, healthy family, one that didn’t have dark secrets circling them like a vulture waiting for the carnage to appear.
Pressing her lips together, she stood. There were still a few hours left in the day. Perhaps she could go through her notes one more time, looking for anything else she might have missed.
Jayne was now standing with a group of other girls she’d grown up attending school with. All girls who had looked at her, whispering and giggling about Evie’s mother after the incident. Feigning sympathy when it pleased them.
Evie sighed, shaking her head, and turned to walk home. She didn’t have it in her to pretend to be friendly anymore.
Tapping her father’s shoulder, she ran her other hand over one of Lyssa’s braids. “I’m heading home, Papa. Will you be okay with Lyssa?”
The men her father was conversing with gave her friendly greetings as her father nodded and patted her cheek. “Of course, my sweet. Could you leave me the coin purse? I want to buy a couple of drinks for my friends.”