The Villain
FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.
“So, this is your room?” Sage’s voice glided over his tidy, secluded sanctuary. Her hair moved as she did, teased from sleep and looking so soft in the low-burning candlelight that his hand twitched at his side.
This was ill-advised—and frankly foolhardy.
Her eyes scanned every inch of the space, and it felt like an invasion. But not an unwelcome one. The room was large but sparse. There was one oversize four-poster bed adorned with black curtains and his collection of throw pillows. He had a small desk off to the corner with one comfortable chair, an armoire against the wall, and a fireplace with a log that never burned out… That, along with his—
“Nightlight!” Sage squealed, rushing over to the corner and finding the tiny lantern that made the space glow. “You really do have one!” She turned it over, and he rolled his shoulders to relieve the tension. “But what is this shape? It’s almost like a cone?”
Trystan rushed to make up an excuse, but Kingsley had awoken from his slumber in the small, gilded bed on the table beside his own. Don’t, he mouthed at the frog threateningly.
But of course, he didn’t listen. Just held up a sign that read: TORNADO. Edwin would serve frog legs tomorrow.
Sage squinted at the sign and then back at the nightlight before giving him a thousand-watt smile. “Is this a little tornado, sir?”
He ripped it out of her hands. “It was the only one left at the shop,” he grumbled, returning it gently to its place.
Trystan had finally been steering himself back into line, back to his one true purpose: revenge. Stealing the kingdom from Benedict was a far cry from what he’d set out to do a decade ago. It was better; it was worse. It
was perfect, and they were getting close. All he needed was Nura Sage, and then he could enact the prophecy. He’d find a tiny patch of land with butterflies and sunshine and send Sage where she belonged—away from him.
He only needed to muddle through the next few steps, the ones that would lead him to Nura. All he needed to do was remain indifferent, as he’d always been.
Indifference, while Evangelina Sage was in his bedchamber. It was like keeping a blank face during an avalanche.
He straightened his shirt and smoothed his breeches, then grabbed the chair to tug it next to the desk. “The letters are on my table, just there. We’ll only need a touch, hopefully, to reveal some of the hidden words, and then we can save the rest for—” He released the chair, blinking at the woman in front of him. Did he say avalanche? He meant inferno.
Sage placed her plate gently on the desk before searching the small table for the letters, then laying them gently out around the wooden surface. Her back was to the fire, the light illuminating her from behind.
And turning her entire nightgown sheer.
“Um, Sage?” He attempted to steady his voice, but the words came out garbled. The stardust vial jumped in his hand, apparently sensing his distress as it leaped around. He hardly noticed, fixated on the plain view of gently curved hips, of soft lines of stomach, of ample thighs that looked made for grabbing.
Mantras began in his mind, steadying him, grounding him. I am malicious. I am evil. I am feared!
She turned, and he caught the side of her breast.
I am going to die.
A strangled sound left his lips as he flew to the armoire across the room, yanking out a blanket so hard that the rest of the contents nearly tumbled out as well. The blanket was draped around her shoulders before he released another breath.
She gripped both ends of it, looking up from the letters and her plate of food with a smile. “Thank you, sir. That was… Are you all right?”
“I’m thinking about death.”
Her eyebrows shot to her forehead. “Oh my.”
“Move aside, Sage, and eat your food.” He paused, thinking through his next words. “Edwin made that plate especially for you.” He bumped her
with his hip, and she sank into the armchair. The vanilla smell lingered where she’d stood. The woman ate so many of those blasted candies, they were coming out of her pores. Uncapping the vial, which was now moving furiously, he tapped several drops of dust onto the pages.
The stardust glowed over the letters, slowly covering the entire surface with shimmering white light. They both watched, waiting. A few seconds passed before Sage reached down, took a spoonful of mashed potatoes and thick brown gravy, and brought it to her mouth with a gentle moan. “So good.”
His knees almost buckled.
He’d never reacted this way to any woman, to any person. There must be a logical explanation. “Sage, do you have any enchantress or siren lineage in your family?”
She trained an unamused look at him. “I’m not certain I want to know what prompted that question.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose again. “You definitely don’t.”
The stardust was nearly gone now, and the table began to shake, as did the rest of the room, including his chair. Sage popped up and gripped his arm. “What’s happening?”
Alarm bells were blaring in his head, something telling him to duck for cover. “Get down!” They both dove for the floor, Trystan holding Sage’s head and angling his body over hers. A large spark and a small boom took the legs of the table out entirely. It collapsed in front of them, revealing what Trystan assumed was going to be destroyed and scorched letters, but instead—
“A map. The dust turned the letters into a glass map?” Sage reached out and brushed her hand over the shimmering surface of the depiction of Rennedawn. Peaks, valleys, villages, and Hickory Forest were all displayed on the slab. Places Trystan hadn’t even known existed were highlighted by the celestial glow, but only one area of the map was marked by a five- pointed star.
“Here. What we seek must be here,” he said, running a finger over it, the light flickering under his touch. Sage was breathing heavily, her eyes drooping against the light, wearing a confused and frightened frown.
Suddenly, the door to his chambers was thrown open. Blade stumbled in, clutching his knees and taking heaving breaths. “Boss! You okay? I was up with one of the guvres and I heard a crash.” Blade halted when he saw Evie,
his eyes taking in the condition of the room: the table broken on the floor, a blanket discarded on the ground, both of them in a state of undress. He grinned.
“Evie!” Blade put a hand up and leaned against the doorjamb, taunting Trystan like he had a death wish. “Did the boss need assistance with something in his bedchamber?”
Trystan picked up a pencil from the ground and gripped it tight in his fist. “What are you doing coming into my room in the first place? There is no possible excuse you could have for such an overstep. I don’t care if you thought a murderer was in here,” Trystan said in a low voice.
Blade clicked his tongue. “You mean besides you?” “Get out,” Trystan growled.
“So you can continue?” Blade asked cheekily before ducking away from the pencil Trystan chucked. Sage ripped a second pencil from his hand before he could toss it, and he scowled at her.
“Blade, dear, what are you doing up?” Sage asked gently.
“I was checking on the female guvre, but it’s difficult for me to get close without the male freaking out and getting violent.” The dragon trainer hesitated, smirking at Trystan before saying, “You know what that’s like, don’t you, boss?”
Trystan started forward, and Sage grabbed the back of his shirt, digging in her heels. “Don’t,” she warned. “Are you any closer on a timeline for when we can expect her to give birth?” she asked Blade.
The dragon trainer sobered almost immediately. “Judging by her already distended stomach and how attentive the male is being—seriously, he won’t let her leave his sight for even a second; it’s quite adorable—it could be anywhere from two weeks to six months before their let arrives.”
Trystan rubbed at his temples. “That hardly helps at all.”
Blade nodded, looking chastised. “I’m sorry, sir. Truly. I’ll keep looking.
You can count on me.”
Trystan wet his lips and sighed. He was developing an irritating level of sympathy for those around him, and Blade was no exception. He took pity on the man, sensing the dragon trainer’s sincerity. He used to hate sincerity
—it never seemed real—but Blade always came across as very determined to prove himself, to please. It reminded Trystan a little of himself, long ago, and the spike of sympathy turned into a spear.
“Don’t fret, Gushiken. I hardly have time to hire someone in your stead.
Just continue searching and come to me as soon as you find something useful.”
Blade looked at him suspiciously and then glanced around like he was checking for an ambush. “Oh, thank you, sir. I will do that.” He spun on his heel, waving. “Good night! You two have fun.”
The boss picked up another pencil, but Sage had dashed in front of him. “Knock it off.”
Trystan sighed, placing it her waiting palm. “He’s impertinent.” “So am I,” she said gravely.
“Well, that I know,” Trystan said, grinning despite himself. He watched as Sage’s eyes flickered right to his dimple. “The Heart Village is accessible by horseback. We’ll leave at the week’s end.”
“Why not tomorrow?” She frowned. “Isn’t time of the essence?”
He spun her toward the door, holding it open for her. “I have things I need to look into tomorrow.”
She huffed. “Like why you feel the need to have a thousand pillows on your bed?”
“Out!”
She hurried out of his bedchamber, but he could hear her giggle echo down the corridor. A hall he’d walked many times, once lonely and cold. Shutting the door against the chill, he walked over to the armoire to return the blanket, but as soon as he opened it, another scrap of fabric fell into his hands. A scarf. Wool that had been gently cleaned of any remnants of blood and kept safely tucked away.
“For the blood, Your Evilness.”
Gripping it hard in his fist, he shoved away the memory of his first meeting with Sage, along with any other feelings that came with it. His only goal now was to destroy Benedict—and he’d take down anyone or anything that got in his way.
