The Villain
“If you’re wondering if this is a healthy way of dealing with your emotions, boss, let me clear it up for you. It’s not.”
It was too early for Sage to be awake and pestering him—for any of them to be, after the harrowing night. But here she was, with her quick words and her knowing eyes.
He hadn’t slept, so he’d decided to relieve some stress, and Sage was effectively ruining it.
A sharp knife hovered inches away from the Valiant Guard’s eye. “I wasn’t wondering,” Trystan said dryly, keeping his focus.
The manor protections were being refortified as best they could by the staff. Their magic was not nearly as strong as that of an enchantress, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and this was now a matter of life and death. The patch job wouldn’t keep the manor truly safe—not effectively, anyway. Even if they could have it recloaked, the once-secret location was compromised, likely being whispered into Benedict’s ear as Trystan stood here hovering a knife over his knight’s eye.
No matter. He’d refortify the barrier and then marvel at the small fortune he’d just sent off to his black-market gardener, who had offered the rather gracious solution of large, thorny hedgerows to be planted all around the manor.
If he couldn’t hide the manor, he’d make it the most dangerous place in all of Rennedawn. To the Valiant Guards and anyone else who dared to cross him. But right now, he’d focus on the knights. Particularly the one on his table saying the same boring drivel over and over again.
“Do whatever you like to me, Villain. It is an honor to die for my king!” the knight cried furiously, but Trystan could see he was shaking on the table.
Sage stepped forward and addressed the knight directly, with a friendliness that both impressed Trystan and enflamed him beyond measure. “Would you mind waiting here for five minutes while I speak with this one?” She angled her thumb at Trystan, who threw his hands in the air at the ludicrous request.
The knight sputtered, “O-Of course, miss. Take as long as you like.”
She patted the knight’s hand, enraging Trystan further as she said with sickly sweetness, “Thank you.”
There was nothing sweet about her grabbing his ear and pulling him from the room like a dog on a leash. “Sage!” he growled, unable to stop it as she pushed him out into the dimly lit hallway and shut the door. “Are you having a breakdown?”
“Always,” she said far too cheerfully, “but that’s not why I came down here.” Don’t push me, he begged. I cannot take it.
He deadpanned, “I’m on the edge of my seat.”
“Someone in the office slipped Lyssa a note to meet my father, which was ultimately what led to his escape. He had an accomplice.”
Trystan’s headache was making it hard for him to process the information. “Meaning someone in the office…”
“Conspired with my father, yes. They could have even helped him when he was sabotaging your shipments.”
Ice. He was ice; everything was ice. It was in his blood, in his heart, cooling all the emotions trying to burn through him. “Is that so?” he said, low, dangerous.
“I know this is hard to swallow right now, with the guvre taken, your magic acting up, my mother…dead, and Rennedawn’s Story being… Well, I know everything is absolute shit, for lack of a better word, but I had to tell you right away.”
His fist clenched, the other gripping the doorway so hard his knuckles went white. “Thank you for your candor, Sage.”
“Sir?” she said warily. “There’s one other thing I’d like to ask.”
He rolled his shoulders as his magic tried to seep out, to greet her; he shoved it down and away.
“What did the hands of destiny say to you? It must have been something bad, right? You looked so startled.” There she went again, finding every uncomfortable button on his person and pushing them until he felt like he was going to let go and do something he couldn’t take back.
He ran a ragged hand down his face before tucking in a loose flap of his shirt and taking a steady inhale. He kept his reply brief, unfeeling. “A giant white blob was whispering in my ear, Sage. Of course I looked startled.”
She pointed a finger up at him. “You’re trying to avoid giving an answer.” “Yes,” he freely admitted.
Her shoulders dropped as the knight in the room’s voice called out: “Um, excuse me? Mr. Villain, sir? I have to go to the restroom…”
“Hold it!” Trystan banged a fist against the door, and Sage covered her mouth, amused. Never afraid, never fazed, taking everything with a smile and a witty rejoinder. He was sure it was the lack of sleep that made him ask, “Sage, do you ever regret walking in the woods that day? Do you ever think that…it set you on a course you were not meant to go down?”
Her nose pulled up in her normal scrunch, her pink tongue darting out to wet her lips. He watched it with an interest that was undignified. “No, of course not. If I never went in the woods that day, I never would’ve gotten this job. Never would’ve been able to give Lyssa all the books and toys she wanted. Never would’ve had my wounds healed by Tati, or my heart lightened by Blade, or my mind challenged by Becky.”
She put her hand right over his heart. Step away, Trystan. He could’ve; he simply didn’t have the will. “I never would’ve met you.” I never would’ve met you. “If asked to do it over, I wouldn’t hesitate.”
“Damn it.”
She frowned. “What? Not what you wanted to hear?”
He closed his eyes, banging his head against the wall. “I can hardly cut a man’s eyeball out after hearing that. You’ve ruined the mood.”
She pushed him without force, laughing. “You asked!”
They both leaned up against the wall, and Kingsley appeared below their feet, holding up a sign that said: DESTINY.
Trystan’s eyes widened.
Sage frowned. “What’s destiny, my little prince?” Sage bent down to straighten Kingsley’s crown.
Now was as good a time as any, he realized. “Sage, while we are sharing things, I suppose it might be pertinent for you to know that Kingsley isn’t just a magical frog… He was once human. My friend. He was turned by an enchantress more than a decade ago, and I’ve been trying to find a way to undo it since with no luck.”
Sage brought her hands together, as if in prayer, and held them to her lips.
“Kingsley was once a human?”
He nodded stiffly, waiting for her anger that he’d waited so long to tell her.
But she merely frowned and said, “Oh dear. Then perhaps I shouldn’t have changed in front of him so many times.”
“What!” He turned a scathing glare on the frog.
“I’m kidding, Evil Overlord!” She laughed until tears pricked her eyes. “I already knew.”
His breath caught, and his lips parted. He felt stunned. “What? How?
Clare is sworn to secrecy. There’s no way she would’ve told you—”
Evie cocked a hip. “Nobody needed to tell me! Clare has called him Alexander in front of me on multiple occasions. And Alexander just so happens to be the name of the southern kingdom’s prince who ‘died’ about ten years ago—coincidentally around the time you became The Villain. And if all of that wasn’t slap-you-in-the-face obvious, you call him by the dead prince’s last name. Not so dead after all?”
He threw his arms up again. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t want to be rude.” She tilted her head. “You seemed to so enjoy your secret.”
He was going to die young, and it would be all her fault.
“I am curious, though,” she continued. “Why was this enchantress so deadlands-bent on changing a gallant prince into a creature with webbed toes?”
He hesitated; the memory of the day it happened still haunted him. He spoke almost mechanically. “It wasn’t the enchantress’s fault. She was merely following orders.”
Sage’s brow furrowed. “Whose orders?” “My mother’s.”
She flinched and gasped, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. “Why would she…?”
He smiled, but there was no joy in it. Just long-buried hurt. “My mother didn’t take too well to how I came out after my time with Benedict. I had returned home looking for sanctuary, and instead I found her waiting for me, along with Clare. It was perhaps the first rift between my sister and Tatianna. Alexander Kingsley was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He came in just before I did. It was supposed to be me, and it was supposed to be death.”
Sage’s eyes flared. The nonsense wheels in her mind were turning and turning, this time in a fury. “What a bitch—”
The knight called again. “Hello? Are you coming back? Bring the pretty maiden with you!”
Trystan turned to the door and kicked it before roaring, “Apprentice!”
She bit her lip and started back for the stairs. “Well, as fun as this has been, I have to return to Lyssa. Last night was rough for her, and I don’t want her to be alone this morning.”
There was a pang of emotion for the girl, right in the center of his chest. He used to be able to keep track of the few people he cared about with one hand; at this rate, he’d have to expand to…two? Odious.
Still, an idea began to form. A way to help Lyssa heal from her pain.
The pang was replaced by a sting as a question curdled from his lips—one he’d been holding back. “Sage. That day we met, did you first come across an older woman with three children?”
She stilled at the bottom of the stairs and turned to face him. She narrowed her eyes at him, though not in suspicion. More in confusion. “… Yes, at the job fair. I was almost offered a maid position, but she clearly needed it more, so I gave it to her in my stead. How did you know about that?”
Grains of truth could usually carry you through a lie of omission. “The destiny creature told me.”
She smiled. “What an odd thing to share.” She paused, then asked, “Sir, shall I… Shall I look into finding another starlight user?”
He sighed, his shoulders sinking. “Take time, Sage…to mourn your mother. I’ll work on getting the guvre back in the meantime. The male isn’t doing well, but I think he’s grown to trust us.”
She looked grateful, and he hated himself for it. “And then back to it! Stealing the kingdom!” And with that declaration, she turned on her heel and left. Her footsteps echoed off the stairs, and when they fully faded, he slid down the wall, elbows on his knees.
Kingsley sat there, unblinking, ever faithful. “Should I have told her, old friend?” Trystan asked him quietly. “That there was no older woman at the job fair—that it was one of destiny’s enchanters in disguise, guiding her right into my path?” Kingsley hopped closer, ribbiting. The rest of destiny’s words felt as if they’d been burned onto Trystan’s soul.
You were always supposed to meet Evie Sage, Trystan Maverine. Just as
Evie Sage is meant to be your downfall, and you her undoing.
The second he’d heard destiny’s words, he knew the truth of them. So it was decided, as painful and heart-wrenching as it would be—he had to keep his distance from her. Lest she ruin him and he her.
No more. He was through.
Just as soon as he finished one more very important task…
