Page 95 of Apprentice to the Villain

He answered flatly, without hesitating. “Yes.”

Sage quietly placed something warm, wrapped in parchment paper, in his lap. He did a double take before unwrapping it and inhaling a large whiff. It was bread, much like the kind they’d shared in the Heart Village. “He’s always crabby when he’s hungry,” Sage clarified. “I once stopped him from razing a village to the ground by offering him a cupcake.”

He glared. “That is not true.”

Sage looked guilty. “You’re right.” She grinned at Clare. “It was a cookie.”

It was acutely unflattering to be spoken about like a recalcitrant child, but he was more taken aback by how well and easily Sage knew exactly what he needed, exactly what he wouldwant.

That’s her job, you dolt.

It was nonsense that thinking of her carefully packing a loaf of bread caused disgusting sentiment to pull at the strings in his chest.

He cleared his throat, willing the sentiment to disappear. “Thank you, Sage. It will fuel my evildoing for the afternoon.” She huffed a laugh.

But her laughter faded when Rebecka adjusted her glasses with sobering grimness. “There will be no doing of evil once we arrive at the fortress. It’ll be a wonder if they even allow you two entry, with your faces so revealed to the world.”

She slid two scraps of parchment across the saddle into his and Sage’s waiting hands. Theirwantedflyers—the very same that had been held by Helena’s henchmen in the Heart Village. One had a recounting of his crimes and his real name, a now-tripled amount of gold pieces, and a sketch of—

“Well, this is absurd—my head is not this big,” he grumbled.

Sage peeked over his shoulder, her breath tickling his ear and making him see stars. The ugly kind that were bright and irritating behind your eyelids after being struck hard in the face. “Really?” Her blue gaze took measure of the head in question. “I think they made it smaller.”

The sun beat down harder upon them, reddening Sage’s cheeks and bringing a smattering of freckles out on the tip of her nose. He wanted to tap it. More so when the color on her cheeks deepened.

Biting her lip, she continued for reasons he could not fathom. “Not that your actual head is large. It’s more proportionate to the rest of your body, which is also fairly…large.” She choked, and so did he—nearly. “Not all your body, of course! How would I know if other things are also…large? Although I would assume, based off the rest of you, that everything else is alsoproportionate in size…”

Tatianna smiled into the tiny mirror she was holding up to do her lipstick. “Evie, dear, quit while you’re three feet belowground.”

Sage saluted and scooted away from him—exactly what he needed. Irritating that his hands itched to drag her closer.

A large gust of wind whipped back his hair, and he held up a hand to shield his face as he shuffled to the secondwantedflyer: Sage’s.

The Wicked Womanflyer was a near-perfect and lovely depiction of Sage. Her dark curls were blowing away from her face, flying in every direction, like the artist had caught her in a stiff breeze. Her lips were quirked, and her eyes seemed to shine with a sinister glimmer.

She looked like the most beautiful nightmare he’d ever seen.

But her list of charges had grown longer since the last flyer.

TREASON

KIDNAPPING

THREATS TO THE CROWN

CONSPIRING WITH THE ENEMY

APPRENTICE TO THE VILLAIN

Suddenly, she ripped the paper out of his hand. When she looked at it, her eyes widened and a small yelp left her mouth, her fingers coming up to brush against her lips.

“Sage…” he said, placating. Perhaps someone in the Massacre Manor Relations Department could find a way to spin Sage as a prisoner, so that she may still lead a normal life in Rennedawn when this was all over, when the chips finally fell into place and she was ready to leave him and his business behind forever. He ignored that his heart suddenly doubled in weight and dropped toward his feet; it was merely because the bread was dry. Never mind that he hadn’t taken a bite yet.

Fluffy sailed upward, as if sensing they needed to be lost among the skies, but the abrupt rush of air couldn’t drown out Sage’s scream.

Trystan was not a reader of emotions. He could barely interpret his own, with how little he endeavored to use them. But was the woman who drew nearly every ounce of his attention…bouncing?

“They…theypromotedme!” Her smile was so wide that she beamed. It was like rays of color spilling out of her: red on her lips and her cheeks, blue in her eyes, a white sheen bouncing off her plaited hair and finally settling against the glow of her skin.