Evie
Evie wanted to smell flowers every day.
She felt elated, like nothing could touch her, like all was right with the world. Stepping off the bridge, she couldn’t stop smiling, awestruck by the splendor of the Heart Village. The stories she’d heard were nothing compared to seeing it with her own eyes.
Little shops lined the cobblestone streets, bustling with children and content-looking adults. An upbeat song played by a group of performers gave her a merry tune to step to as she entered the fray. The entire village was surrounded by channels of glistening blue water, some taking the place of streets with small boats to travel between points. It was like nothing she’d ever seen.
She’d worn flat shoes, the arches of her feet needing the rest from the lift of her heels. It made her quicker, which was excellent news for her and exhausting news for the boss. He appeared at her side in a flash, gently gripping her arm. “Sage, do not wander off in the state you’re in.”
“We’re standing right here with her,” Clare argued. Kingsley hopped from her shoulder onto a floating lily pad in the canal, stretching out his small limbs. “Alexander, do not wander,” Clare scolded.
Alexander? Did she mishear? “Who is Alexander?”
Clare and Tatianna looked at each other, both biting their lips. Surely she was missing something… But the boss was whistling and turning in the other direction.
“We’ll split up. You two see what you can find out about the barrier and an enchantress consult. Sage and I will inquire as to Nura Sage’s whereabouts.”
Tatianna grinned. “Or Clare could go with you and I can stay with Evie?” Evie was making herself dizzy, her eyes darting between the two. The
boss’s face twisted in anger, and she tried to mimic it.
“You think I can leave her alone when she’s like this? I destroyed a bridge last time I was here. She’d likely topple the whole village.”
“Hey!” Evie stomped her foot. But she quickly forgot the insult when the smell of warm butter and fresh pastry danced across her nose—right before she spied a vendor selling large, flaky rolls in various shapes. “Oh, bread! I love bread.” She ran for it.
But not before Clare muttered, “Oh yes, a danger to us all.”
“Sage! Evie! Hold on!” the boss yelled after her to no avail. She could just barely hear his next words to the others: “We’ll meet here in an hour. You two learn what you can in that time, and for the love of the gods, please keep an eye on Kingsley.”
Evie had already gotten to the cart when Kingsley held up a sign that said: RELAX.
She giggled when the boss arrived next to her. The vendor was an elderly gentleman with wrinkled skin and graying hair that tipped silver in the sunlight. He grinned when she asked her boss sweetly, “Sir, will you buy me bread?”
His gaze had weight to it—different, somehow, than before he’d been captured. It was intense, breathtaking; it sent chills up her spine and goose bumps along her arms.
And her whole body felt like it was on fire when he said in a soft, low voice, “If you wish.”
Before Evie could blink again, a warm roll of sweet bread was placed in her hands, this one in the shape of a cloud.
There was mirth in The Villain’s gaze now. “I thought it fitting, in honor of our cave friend.”
She laughed loudly, uninhibited. This in and of itself was not uncommon for her. She was often amused, trying to find delight in life where she could. It was her drive, what kept her up when she felt the urge to remain low. But that delight was frequently found while wearing her mask of humor and lightness. In this moment, it was lovely to be happy without effort. She kept laughing until a snort came out of her nose—a loud one. She hiccupped. “I’m a mess.”
But the gentle humor had slipped from The Villain’s expression now. “You’re going to have to sleep this off at some point,” he said, guiding her onward after paying the vendor for the sweet bread. A legal purchase by
The Villain, just for her. She almost swooned. “We’ll get you a tonic for the splitting headache you’ll undoubtedly wake up with.”
“I…I’ve been having trouble sleeping.” She sighed, holding out her arms and spinning, letting her skirt float in a circle. She enjoyed the freedom of wearing trousers, but she didn’t think she would ever shake the giddy feeling of twirling in a pretty dress. She could have both now, the freedom of choice.
“We’ll get you a tonic for that, too,” her boss assured her in a hard voice. “Tatianna said the antidote for the sleeping-death fruit doesn’t have any
long-lasting side effects, but I’m beginning to question it.” She stopped to remove her shoe and shake out a pebble.
The Villain’s voice was dark, forbidding from beside her. “I beg your pardon?” Before she could protest, she was being dragged bodily into a small alleyway between shops and gripped by the shoulders, pressed against the wall.
Oh, that wasn’t— Uh-oh, that had been a secret.
This was hardly the way to prove to him that she herself could be more villainous, that she was an asset, needed. But her rescue plan had worked out anyway, and she knew he believed in her abilities. His anger was likely due to the reminder of being trapped with Benedict in the first place…or possibly the reminder of having seen her “dead.”
“Are you saying that you faked your death by eating a sleeping-death fruit?” The Villain was so furious, the vein in his forehead was throbbing. She wanted to poke it.
“Can we talk about this later, when there aren’t three of you ganging up on me?” His figure was spinning in several different directions, and they all looked pissed.
He barreled on. “Do you know how dangerous that is? How perfectly timed the antidote needs to be? There’s only one cure! Of all the foolish—”
“Two,” Evie interrupted before taking a large bite of bread. The flaky crust melted under her tongue.
“What?”
She chewed for a moment before speaking, which seemed to incense him, so she began to chew slower just for the fun of it. “There are two cures to the sleeping-death fruit; everyone knows that.”
He shook his head. “The other is a myth, a lie we push for children’s stories. It’s positively evil, even for me.”
She blew air out of her lips, feeling strangely let down all of a sudden. “By the gods, alert the town crier! I’ve found a man who doesn’t believe in love.”
He lifted a brow, angling his head down when he responded, devoid of emotion: “I do believe in love.”
She stood on her tiptoes to get closer to his face, her heart pounding. “You do? Then why—”
“I just do not believe in it for myself. I am The Villain. Any woman willing to love me would be out of her gourd.” He flinched at the words, like the thought of someone that unhinged was terrible to even imagine.
She had to stop herself from raising her hand and saying, GUILTY!
Lowering back down, she grumbled, “Yes, an absolute nincompoop of a person.” She broke off a piece of bread and chewed it slowly, wanting to change the subject. “Becky had a connection to obtain the fruit, and I waited to eat it until after Gideon had smuggled me into the castle. He slipped me the antidote before I was brought into the ballroom. I wasn’t in any danger.”
“But now your sleep is disrupted.”
She shrugged. “I haven’t slept well since they took you. This isn’t new.” That seemed to knock him silent. He opened his mouth to speak again, but
Evie took the opportunity to rip off another piece of bread and shove it in his mouth. “I ate the fruit, and I survived. The plan worked, and now we are on the road to your ultimate revenge—stopping the king’s prophecy and stealing Rennedawn right out from under him. All is right with the world, Your Evilness.”
He chewed, even he unable to resist the deliciousness of the flaky creation, eyes shutting as he savored it. As she looked upon his face, memorizing every angle, every dip, curve, and hollow, a thought plagued her. “Gideon… He was supposed to signal to you that I wasn’t dead, that help was on the way. He—he was able to do that, wasn’t he?”
Her boss’s eyes flew open, and he swallowed hard. Then waited a moment. “Yes, he did. Fear not. I knew it wasn’t real.”
Evie exhaled. She hadn’t known how The Villain would react to her possible demise, but she wasn’t so obtuse as to assume he wouldn’t care. He would—probably in a quiet, closed-off way.
She blinked. Her head felt lighter, the effects of the flower beginning to wane a bit. “So where do we begin? Was there a specific spot in the village
the map had marked?”
The Villain held out a hand for more bread. She smirked in satisfaction, ripping him off another piece. He spoke after he finished chewing. “No, that would be far too easy. I’m thinking we start in one of the shops, ask a few questions. Mention your mother’s name offhandedly so we don’t appear suspicious.”
She began to argue as she turned to exit the alleyway. “You always look susp—”
An “oof” sounded behind her. She turned to investigate. “Sir?”
But he couldn’t answer, as several men in an array of costumes—ranging from a jester’s garb to a large hat with a feather sticking out the side to a fur cape with pink polka dots—had pinned The Villain to the ground.
The one with a tin crown pointed a sword right at the boss’s back, a WANTED flyer in his meaty hand. Only this flyer didn’t have the usual cartoonish depictions of her boss. In fact—
That was The Villain’s true face, almost exactly, and worse…his true
name.
WANTED VILLAIN REVEALED: TRYSTAN MAVERINE
REWARD: A THOUSAND GOLD PIECES.
“We caught The Villain!”
