The Villain
Trystan stared at Otto Warsen’s head with a dumbfounded expression.
“She scared the wits out of me when she first brought the thing in, sir. But she made a nice, clean cut, just the way you do. A quick study, our Evie.” The front-gate guard, Marv, nodded beside Trystan, his spiky light-brown hair going in all sorts of different directions. It was a constant state for the man, always looking a bit frazzled, like he had just been electrocuted.
Fitting, as Trystan felt like he’d just been painfully shocked as well.
“Sage—she—his head was…?” Never had he had more difficulty stringing words together, and on top of that, he felt humiliated to be so tongue-tied in front of the Malevolent Guard sparring around him in the entryway. Their training room was undergoing an intense round of cleaning after one of the new, more obstinate interns had taken it upon themselves to feed a messenger raven prunes and set it loose upon the sparring space as a prank. After all his guard had done for him, he was more than willing to allow them to train anywhere they liked, but a bit less so when they were bearing witness to his pathetic display.
He should’ve departed already, anyway. Blade was in the back courtyard, saddling the dragon with Tatianna and Clare. Gods knew why his sister was coming, but he wouldn’t begrudge another magic user on a journey so fraught with peril. And the clock was ticking—they had to be there before nightfall, or the danger of their destination would increase tenfold. He didn’t have time to ruminate on Sage and her shocking act of violence.
But he would anyway, because there was no one he liked to torture quite as much as himself.
“Keeley! Where. Is. Sage?” He bit out the words, his patience at a minimum. He wanted his focus only on Benedict, only on vengeance, only on taking over this kingdom and destroying all the good inside it. But he
couldn’t with this discomfort lodged where his heart should be. Keeley ran in, already out of breath. “She’s right behind me!”
Sage stumbled down the stairs, wearing another pair of thigh-hugging pants that made him want to do bodily harm to anyone whose gaze lingered on them for too long.
“Are we ready to go?” she asked happily, gliding toward the back doors, giving Otto Warsen’s head only a cursory glance before practically sprinting to the courtyard, her pulled-back curls bouncing behind her.
He followed her with a purposeful gait, saying with a low growl, “Oh, you can run, little tornado, but you cannot hide.”
Blade waved to them as he tied a leather strap under Fluffy’s belly. The dragon shifted nervously. Sage did, too.
He hauled her by the arm into the arched stone alcove beside the back entrance and nudged her into one of the pillars. She looked sheepish as he loomed over her, like a dog that had chewed up some fancy shoes. Except in this case, the pair of shoes in question was a man’s severed head hung from the wall. “What exactly were you up to while I was gone, Sage? Anything interesting occur?”
“I knit some mittens,” Sage said pleasantly.
“Delightful. Anything else?” he pressed. She was deliberately keeping things from him, he realized. The thought made him panic.
“I learned how to use a paperweight as a weapon.”
He followed her lead, realizing that forcing it out of her would be fruitless. “Fascinating. How?”
She placed both hands on the curve of her hips. “You throw it, um…really hard.”
Unamused, he replied coolly, “Perhaps I’ll test the theory.”
Office pixies floated past them, murmuring about the commute as one of them pulled at the ends of Sage’s hair. “Ow!” They darted away, cackling. “Don’t you all have copies to make? Expense reports to file?” she yelled and then sighed as they fluttered away. Looking directly at him, she completely disarmed him as she asked, “Are you angry, sir? I’d hoped you’d be impressed.”
In fact, he was feeling a plethora of different emotions in that moment. Frustration, confusion, and yes, seething anger—but only because he’d realized her pulled-back hair perfectly showcased the fading bruises of fingerprints around her neck. Impressed? He supposed he was impressed as
well—even though he shouldn’t be, even though it was alarming that she wanted his praise in the first place.
“What occurred after they took me? What happened to Warsen?”
“I…I cut off his head,” she said bluntly, clapping a hand over her mouth like she couldn’t believe she’d said it. He couldn’t quite believe it, either.
“Yes, I gathered that. My question is more pertaining to when and why.”
She swallowed, and the nervous motion of it made every muscle in his body stiffen. “After you were taken, h-he tried to kill me.”
Trystan’s power came out in curling waves around his feet, looking for a place to land, looking for someone to hurt. Sage eyed it, then gave his death magic a little wave like it was a blasted newborn. It curled around her hand in greeting, and she squealed in delight.
“Oh, it’s so sweet!”
Sweet? The woman had no sense of self preservation. “Come back to me, you deviant!” Trystan growled, calling the magic back, and it came…very slowly.
Sage must have mistaken the murderous look in his eyes for disappointment, because she fumbled out, “I’m sorry if I overstepped by, you know…having it, uh, hung up with the other heads. I was trying to prove myself capable. I didn’t think you’d mind.”
Mind? I want to take the head down just so I can kick it and then pass it along to the rest of my employees so they can kick it, too.
Likely not what Ms. Erring had in mind when she’d suggested more office morale–building activities, but he could feel his own enthusiasm boosting at the prospect.
He shook his head, refocusing on the crinkle at the top of Sage’s nose. “I mind that the man hurt you and I wasn’t there to prevent it.”
Something dark glittered in her light eyes. “But he didn’t hurt me, sir.” Her lip twitched. “I hurt him.”
Goose bumps rose on his arms, and he was grateful his long sleeves covered them. He shouldn’t be proud of the wickedness emanating off her like a dark aura, should be trying to distance her from him lest he taint her good nature any further. And he would—he had to.
But right now, he’d allow her this victory. As he leaned down toward her, their faces mere inches apart, he murmured, “Good.”
Blade called out then, breaking the spell between them. “Time to go, everyone! Fluffy’s getting restless, and we can’t risk another bunny rabbit
frightening him.”
Tatianna was gently patting the animal’s side. “He eats goats. How can he be scared by a tiny fluffball?”
Trystan cleared his throat, gently taking Sage’s arm and guiding them back out in the open, toward the waiting group. “So let me see if I have this correct,” Trystan said, watching her pop a vanilla candy into her mouth. “You killed Otto Warsen, crafted and executed a plan to smuggle every woman in my Malevolent Guard into the king’s castle, faked your own death, and rescued me with a nearly flawless escape. Did I leave anything out?”
She nodded earnestly. “The knitting.”
He turned her around and hoisted her atop the large saddle, hoping she didn’t see the wide grin on his face. It wouldn’t last anyhow.
As soon as this pride faded, he would be back to worrying. Evie was being corrupted by him.
This was unacceptable.
