Evie
It wasn’t hard to ascertain that Evie had far overestimated her riding abilities. The first clue being she had the stamina of a goldfish.
“Can. We. Take. A. Break.” She huffed out each word between trots. She’d thought riding a horse would be a leisurely experience, but her entire body ached from trying to keep her balance in the seat and hold herself up.
“Use your core strength,” Clare called from beside her. They’d been on the winding path through Hickory Forest for more than an hour, and by Evie’s measure they weren’t even halfway to their destination.
She threw an exasperated hand in the air. “What core strength?”
The Villain immediately slowed at her response, waiting for her mount to catch up. The animal had been incredibly patient for the duration of the ride.
He looked at her strangely; it made her feel warm. He opened his mouth, and she held her breath.
“You look ill.”
Tatianna, who was riding with pristine posture, not breaking a sweat next to The Villain, gave him an exasperated look. “Who taught you etiquette? A pack of wolves?”
Kingsley was atop Tati’s steed, shaking his small head along with Clare.
They all fell into a slow canter, The Villain nudging in beside Evie. “I merely meant that you look as if you didn’t sleep last night.”
“I didn’t.”
He spun his head toward her in a flash, gripped the reins of her mare, and halted them both. Clare and Tati glanced at each other, slowly trotting ahead while angling their necks back to hear.
The boss asked, “Why?”
A red bird soared over their heads, and Evie followed it with her eyes as it
flew through the trees, sailing for the sun before diving back toward the earth. The forest grew denser this close to the eastern border, with the sun dancing through the leaves in wild patterns around them. It looked like every good dream she’d ever had.
Her eyes didn’t leave his as she deadpanned, “I was unsettled by the number of pillows on your bed. It kept me awake for hours.”
The Villain glared, releasing the horses’ reins. “I do not have that many pillows.”
Clare’s shoulders shook as she laughed from up ahead. “Still, Tryst? I’d have thought that when you became a dark, murderous figure you’d have rid yourself of the collection.”
Evie felt like tiny, joyous butterflies were fluttering in her chest. The sun beating against her back was making her feel warm. “He did this when you were children?”
“Clare. Don’t,” The Villain grunted.
She didn’t need to—Tatianna was already speaking, her fuchsia-painted lips moving a mile a minute. “Remember when we hid them, Clare? He went ballistic.”
“Because you were thieves! I bought them with my own money,” the boss grumbled, his black stallion chuffing like it agreed with him.
Clare gave him an evil grin. “I thought you were a fan of theft.” He huffed. “Not when it’s something that’s mine.”
Kingsley held up a sign that read, LONELY.
Evie pouted and looked at the boss, her heart swelling at the possibility. “Is that why you have so many? You’re lonely in your bed?”
The Villain ripped the sign away from Kingsley before plopping it in Tatianna’s pink-gloved hand. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“My gods, it was such an odd habit that we couldn’t make sense of it. He’d have five to six pillows in there with him at all times. Malcolm thought he was having overnight guests. The four of us even spent the night spying once, but nope, all for him.”
Clare brushed her hand over Tatianna’s, likely to get her attention, but it lingered. Evie eyed that touch with a small, triumphant smile before realizing the implications of Clare’s words. “Four of you spying on him? Clare, Tati, and Malcolm—that’s three. Who’s the fourth person?”
The Villain’s head snapped toward Clare, who stared at her reins, her knuckles turning white. “I—I meant three! Only three of us.” But Evie
didn’t miss her eyes flashing to Kingsley.
Rolling her neck, she was merciful and changed the subject. “My cousin Helena has been to the Heart Village quite a few times. When she wrote to me about it, she said it was a place of innovation and progress. Is that true, sir? I’ve never been.”
Granted, there were many areas of Hickory Forest she hadn’t explored, because that would mean leaving the comfort of home, and Evie had never been very good at venturing away from where she felt safest. She loved destinations; it was the journey that always seemed to stifle her. And it did help to have a comfortable place to return to as well—though the small cottage she’d shared with her parents was not her home any longer. The thought sent sorrow piercing through her chest.
You can’t be sad when you’re trying to be professional, Evie! But being professional is so sad, her mind argued.
The scar on her shoulder tingled for a moment, and the dagger sheathed beneath her skirt answered it, like the two were having a conversation she wasn’t privy to. “Rude,” she mumbled.
“Sage, are you listening?” her boss asked.
She frowned—oh dear, had he been speaking? She hated when her mind would follow a thread inside her head, tugging so strongly that she completely missed what was happening outside of it. It made her feel flustered and silly.
Which was why she lied, “I was,” all wide-eyed innocence. “You’re all right being bait, then?”
Hold on! “Bait?”
Magical plants and flowers glowed against the mid-morning sun. To distract from how little she’d been listening, Evie reached out to the nearest branch and plucked one. Rolling the stem between her fingers, she lifted it to her nose and took a large whiff.
“What am I to be bait for, exactly?”
A large stone bridge appeared ahead—the entrance into the Heart Village. Evie had heard of this place, and not just from Helena; it sat on the border of Rennedawn and the eastern Kingdom of Kaliora. Because of this, it was often considered to be the heart of Myrtalia, a village with no kingdom— perfectly neutral, and a bustling enterprise of different humans and magical creatures alike. But to enter, you had to pass the bridge entrance.
Suddenly, it became clear what she’d been volunteered for, and her heart
started beating erratically. And was the ground getting a little fuzzy on the horizon?
“You want me to be bait for the bridge creatures?”
The Villain rode up beside her. “You’re clever enough to solve the entry riddle they’ll give us to cross, and you’re charming enough to convince them to ignore our differences in favor of finding your mother.” He turned, grinning, dimple on full display, then dismounted and helped her do the same.
Magical flower still gripped in one hand, she used the other to balance against his shoulder, which of course was hard enough to rival a boulder.
“That’s an apt comparison, I suppose,” The Villain said, amused, almost unknowingly puffing his chest. Had she spoken that aloud? Her senses felt dulled, her heart rate abnormally slow all of a sudden.
Tati and Clare dismounted easily, gracefully, and then conferred about something. Wait…are there four of them?
The Villain turned, not noticing how she swayed when he released her. He sauntered toward the gold bell hanging from a flowered archway over the bridge entrance. “The bridge creatures hate me. We had a mild misunderstanding a while back, and they have long memories.”
Her vision was going spotty, but she felt warm, almost a little giddy. The flower in her hand shined brighter, but the scar on her back was tingling again.
She gave a little giggle, then, oddly, hiccupped. “Always making enemies wherever you go, aren’t you, Trystan?”
He immediately stopped in his tracks and spun around with a wild look of alarm. And when he spied the flower in her hand and the unfocused look in her eyes, his face jumped among three different expressions she’d come to know meant the following:
Alarm, concern, and finally, rage.
“Sage! What have you done!” He was in front of her in seconds, ripping the flower from her hand.
“Oh my goodness, I do not know.” She gave a wobbly shrug, giggling again, her words slurred, and she snorted at the way they sounded.
Clare strutted over, Kingsley perched on her shoulder, before ripping the flower from her brother’s fingertips. “This is a Piony flower. The scent is supposed to make you intoxicated.” His sister looked at him with a frown. “She’s drunk, Tryst.”
“Oh, that’s bad, right?” Evie said, scrunching her nose, attempting a step forward but swaying into Trystan’s shoulder instead; he caught her immediately. She reached up and touched the stubble at his chin. “This is prickly. I like it.”
He looked like a scared owl, and she giggled again.
“We need to get out of here before they see us,” her boss said. He turned her around and led her back toward the horses. “You won’t be any help in this state.”
They were a foot away from the bridge when a gritty voice called from behind them, “Leaving so soon, Villain?”
It was too late.
