The Villain
They flew in silence for more than two hours, then landed just before the border of the northern kingdom, Roselia. The air was cooler this far north, refreshing like crisp water as opposed to the sometimes-damp heat of Rennedawn. Hickory Forest’s trees thinned, making the area a more difficult place to hide. Odd, considering this part of the land was one of the few in Rennedawn that was thought to be brushed by the gods. The creators of their world had laid their hands all over Rennedawn, painting a once- gray earth in vibrant shades of color, but there were points rumored to have larger drops of magic, places where gods spilled extra, places they had once even lived. This was one of those places.
Upon landing, Trystan was given four separate questioning looks—five if you counted the dragon. “We’ll take the rest of the journey on foot,” he explained, dismounting. “It’s just up that path, and I don’t want to risk being spotted by Roselia’s men. Our welcome would be less than warm.”
Clare slid off after him, fiddling with the flowered headband pushing the dark hair from her face. “Because it’s cold there.” When everyone stared, she clarified, “That was a joke.”
Tatianna gave a saccharine smile. “We know. It just wasn’t funny.”
Clare lifted a single finger at the healer, but there was a gentle playfulness between them that hadn’t been there before Trystan was taken. By the gods, his assistant was severing heads, his sister and her ex-betrothed were flirting; what was next?
“Where did Evie go?” Blade questioned as he led Fluffy to a nearby stream for a drink.
“What?” Trystan raged, a vein pulsing in his neck as he caught her dark head nearly disappearing through the thin smattering of trees. “Gushiken, wait here. Tatianna and Clare, you’re with us.”
“Wonderful,” Clare said with a roll of her eyes, then stumbled over Tatianna’s outstretched foot. “You are a child!”
Trystan ignored them, coursing forward after Sage. She’d become entirely unpredictable, which, granted, wasn’t so wildly different from before, but the lack of openness she usually displayed so readily was distracting him from his plans, his revenge. She was making him wonder.
Curiosity is so obscenely annoying.
But not as annoying as the needle of protectiveness when he found her standing in front of one of the most dangerous beings in all of Rennedawn
—in all of the magical continent.
A sentry. Immortal beings that appeared human and guarded some of the most magical points of the land. And not “immortal” like the people who stand on the side streets selling false love potions—“immortal” like get Sage away from there before we all become puddles of blood.
“Sage!” Trystan thundered, coming up next to her as she waved a hand in front of the purple-uniformed sentry’s vacant look. “Stop it, you urchin. Do you have a death wish?”
She began making faces at the being, trying to get some sort of a reaction out of it, then growled in frustration when it did not cooperate. Gripping her hips, he hauled her back, ignoring the warmth of her skin and the sensations tingling up his arms as he held her. She struggled in his grip. “Let me go!”
He released her immediately. What was this feeling festering in his chest? Was it…hurt? Disgusting. This woman was unraveling him like a bloody ball of yarn. Tatianna and Clare halted beside them, gaping at the grandiose sight before them.
The clearing of trees opened onto large swaths of the brightest green grass
—brighter than even Clare’s home in the Rosewood Meadow, where the healing plants grew—where the gods had spilled pigment. They must have dumped a bucketload here. At the other side of the clearing, two large oaks grew separately, their trunks meeting just above the entrance of a cave, fashioned like a kiss. The whole of the clearing was lit up like firelight, like a rainbow…like Sage.
Bloody yarn.
“You cannot simply approach a sentry,” he chastised her, desperately trying to ignore the endearing notch that had appeared between her brows. “I tried once, and it nearly killed me.”
It had been years ago, not at the Kissing Tree Caves, but farther south, near his old home, back when he still harbored hope of turning Kingsley back into a human. He double-checked his pockets now, making sure the creature hadn’t secretly hitched a ride again.
“You’ve been here before?” Her tone was accusatory, but he was too distracted by the way her hair gleamed in the sunlight, the way her white tunic clung to her dewy skin, her light blue corset tightly fitted against her waist and chest.
Clearing his throat and looking away, he said, “No, but I’ve seen sentry-guarded land before. They may look harmless, but they’re ruthless, magic-crafted killers with no emotions, and they can’t be destroyed.”
“He looks like a man,” Tatianna insisted.
Evie nodded to herself, twirling a loose lock of hair. “That makes sense.” Tatianna waved a hand in front of the stoic man’s face as Evie had done.
“Is he actually… alive? He’s not even blinking.”
“Sentries might appear human, but they’re not. They’re just vessels designed to keep people away from priceless god-made objects.” Trystan demonstrated by attempting to walk forward, only to be blocked by the sentry’s wooden spear, its face still unmoving and unresponsive. “See?”
“Well, how in the deadlands do we get past him, then?” Sage turned back to the sentry, flailing her arms and making a ridiculous face, unnaturally fixated on trying to make it blink. It would’ve been amusing if— No, damn it, it *was* amusing. Annoyingly so.
Tatianna tried to pass the sentry and was pushed back by the blunt end of its spear. Clare lunged forward, arms outstretched to catch her. “All right, Trystan,” Tati grumbled, pulling away from Clare and shaking out her shirt. “How do you propose we get through? Your magic?”
“My magic can’t be used against a sentry—no magic can. Getting past one requires careful trickery, mastery of the mind, an intellect even the gods themselves would envy—”
Without warning, Sage clicked her tongue and brushed past Trystan. “I would like to enter,” she said, then smiled politely at the being. “Please.”
The sentry lifted its spear and stepped aside.
What in the deadlands…?
Sage began walking toward the cave, moving backward to face them with her palms up, as if to say, “Well, look at that!” But she slowed, frowning when she saw him hesitating. Small torches lined the entrance to the cave, but beyond that, everything was shrouded in darkness. So much darkness that his hands trembled at his sides. He tried to clench his fists, but Sage noticed.
“I could go alone if you’d prefer?” she asked gently. The wall—he needed to put the wall back up between them, needed it now.
“I wouldn’t trust you to handle this by yourself.” She flinched. Good. Hate me, his mind urged. It would make everything easier. But he couldn’t resist softening the jab by adding, “Whatever beasts lurk inside would come crawling out, begging to be saved from your prattling.”
She giggled, taking another step back. “Well, then you’d better come and save them from—”
With a piercing scream, Sage fell.
A drop-off into the darkness. Her shrieks shattered the air as she vanished. The sentry lunged forward, pushing Tatianna and Clare back.
A trick. It was a trap.
He didn’t hesitate anymore.
He dove in after her, dodging the immortal sentry, plunging into the darkness, following the echo of her screams into the void.
And then, silence.
