Becky
This plan was dangerous.
These people were pompous.
And worst of all, she was out of her mind for agreeing to go along with this walking HR violation in the first place.
“You’re stepping on my foot,” Becky growled at Blade, who stood beside her dressed in the finery of a nobleman, the pristine fabric stretching awkwardly over his large arms. Whatever aristocrats Tatianna had nicked their disguises from, Blade’s was obviously from a gentleman who didn’t ever engage in the sorts of physical activities the dragon trainer met with on a day-to-day basis. Like wrestling with a reptile twice the size of a house.
Still, he looked handsome, which sent a ripple of annoyance through her. “My apologies, lovely Rebecka.” The low timbre of his voice raised the
fine hairs on her arms, as did the way he smiled at her. Her stomach flipped at the half curl of his lips, teasing and warm all at once. A rather lethal combination.
A rather horrific one, actually. Intra-office relations are highly discouraged, Becky, remember?
With a furrow in her brow, The Villain’s HR manager looked to the rest of the party. The ballroom was the largest she’d seen, and in another lifetime, she’d seen her share. The vaulted ceilings gave the illusion that the room was wide and endless, the crystal chandelier glinting with hundreds of candles. Nobles wanted only the best, and this world was built to readily give it to them. It was unfair to the rest, and oh how she despised when things were not fair.
Her most recent example? Being stuck with Blade.
“I wish you’d pay more attention.” She skewered him with a look of censure, her most intimidating look—her best, really.
His amber eyes, so often filled with mirth, grew intense as he replied, “I promise you: I do.” And then, without warning, he reached out and gently pushed her glasses back up her nose. She hadn’t even noticed they’d slipped.
But he had.
Her heart fluttered, and she railed against it. Knock it off, you little traitor.
“Thank you,” she said, surprised and alarmed by the softness of her voice.
Where in the deadlands did that come from?
Blade was surprised, too, judging by the way he gaped and the slight crack in his voice that he tried to disguise with a cough. “You’re, uh, you’re welcome.”
The unsureness she experienced in their interactions was growing entirely unpleasant. She’d agreed to work for The Villain to escape her chaotic life, to have order. Instead, she had been handed a healer who dressed in frilly pinks, a boss’s assistant who was the human version of a cannonball, and a filthy dragon trainer who smiled so brightly at her it burned her corneas.
But now that he was not smiling…she felt oddly bereft.
This is what I get for agreeing to a social gathering. Work-related or not, it compromises one’s principles.
When she left her family, she’d vowed to live by solitude and organization as the only ways to find even a semblance of comfort in this mixed-up world. Which made her decision to join in on this mission even more confounding, considering she could barely stand the lot of them on a good day. Nonetheless, she found she couldn’t allow them to do this without her. Besides, it was simply another opportunity to tell everyone where to go and what to do.
She happened to be quite excellent at that.
She was also excellent at keeping to a schedule, a skill the king clearly lacked. How long had they been standing here, waiting for the unmasking to begin?
Blade lifted a brow, following her eyes to the large, gilded clock that hovered between the ornate windows. He cupped a hand around his mouth as he leaned in, his breath tickling her ear. “Wasn’t it supposed to start at nine o’clock?”
“Yes!” she cried, mildly embarrassed by the outburst.
He somehow managed to look incensed on her behalf. “Unacceptable. Do you want Fluffy to singe them into ash for you?”
She arched a brow and folded her arms. “Would the dragon do that on my behalf?” Becky angled her head back to him, startled by the seriousness on his face.
“I have it on good authority the dragon would do anything on your behalf.” He blinked, almost as if coming out of a trance, before returning to his cheery demeanor. “If he ever manages to light more than a birthday candle, that is.”
There was a spell on this room—it was the only explanation for the disappointment she felt when he returned to the sunshine expression he gave to everyone. The intense one had oddly felt…like it was meant just for her.
A subject change was needed, and quickly. “Do you think they managed to—”
But she cut off on a gasp as Blade gripped her by the hips, nearly shoving her until her back landed hard against the wall, his arms caging her in the alcove.
Her heart raced, and a wild excitement heated her blood as she gawked behind the lenses of her large glasses. “Mr. Gushiken, unhand me at once!” She was too close, so close she could smell the cedar on his skin. It was disarming.
He winced, looking apologetic, but he didn’t move his hands. He kept them almost protectively around her head. “It appears my father has decided to attend his first celebration at the Gleaming Palace. I never imagined he’d come. He’s not usually one for social mingling.” Ah, she’d forgotten that Blade had grown up here, his father a political advisor to the king.
She licked her lips, and his eyes dipped along with her stomach. “I suppose it won’t do if you’re recognized.”
“No.” The rasp in his voice made her shiver.
Three loud thuds echoed throughout the vast space, calling the attention of the entire party. It caused Blade to remove one hand so they could both see King Benedict standing atop the grand staircase.
“Welcome! Welcome, my honored guests, to The Villain’s unmasking!”
The crowd bowed before cheering as several Valiant Guards came through the open doors behind the king, dragging a figure with them: a man dressed impeccably in black, from the mask around his eyes to the shiny boots at his feet. The cheers turned to boos.
“Boss,” Blade whispered, his voice laced with concern.
The Villain was dragged down the marble steps, stumbling as he went, wrists chained, mouth set in a firm, harsh line. He never flinched, not even when a Valiant Guard chained him to the pole jutting out from the middle of the raised dais on the back wall. There was already another man chained beside him—one with long red hair and a red beard.
“Arnold,” Blade whispered.
Becky turned to look at him, pausing her tumultuous thoughts. “The Core Healer’s name is Arthur.”
Blade frowned. “Are you sure?”
“Yes! And we hardly have time for this!” she chastised.
A ragged breath escaped the dragon trainer, but he kept his body angled over hers, like he was shielding her from the rest of the room as the king continued.
“Tonight, we finally end The Villain’s decade-long tyranny, and we mourn those we’ve lost by his violent hands.” The king bowed his head in solemn salute, but Becky swore she saw the tiniest of smirks flash across his mouth. “Behold The Villain’s final victim!” he announced as he raised his head. “A light forever extinguished by darkness. The daughter of a beloved knight. Our own Evangelina Sage.”
Becky felt her eyes bug out of her head as a large, adorned glass coffin was dragged through the side doors to the center of the room. The crowd hovered around it, making it difficult to see.
“This is unacceptable,” she bit out when the clock struck ten minutes past. “Rebecka!” Blade yelled as she pushed her way through the crowd, but
she stopped when her path to the gilded coffin was finally clear.
Evangelina lay within, still as death. No, this is wrong. Something went wrong. This was never the plan…
The king’s voice boomed through the room once more as Blade gripped her shoulders from behind, cursing when he saw Ms. Sage.
“Together, on this night, we enter a new era for Rennedawn, as my Valiant Guards and I begin our quest to complete the prophecy of Rennedawn’s Story. For if we fail…”
Another hint of a smirk dusted the king’s lips before it disappeared, though not before Becky committed the small movement to memory.
“Our kingdom will cease to exist.” The crowd erupted.
