Page 136 of Accomplice to the Villain

Winnifred dipped into a quick curtsy, her cheeks flushing as she averted her gaze to her shoes. “Of course, mistress.” The servant girl was quiet by nature, Alexander guessed by the softness of her voice, which was melodic and unused. “If there’s anything else I can do for you, please let me know.”

Amara sniffed, slowly looking in his direction, and Kingsley ducked back into the jar so fast, the lid made a clicking sound. “What was that?” A step toward him. Another. Alexander would be sweating if he had the glands for it.

“Nothing, mistress! Don’t you want to—”

“Amara! I’m home!” Arthur Maverine’s voice boomed through the house, causing relief to settle over Kingsley. The others were here. He was saved. “Where are you?”

“Coming!” Amara called. Alexander heard more footsteps slowly fading and then lighter ones. The lid opened, and it was—

Oh. Still the girl who’d swatted him with the broom. Wonderful.

Winnifred looked at him mournfully. “All right, Your Highness. Time to go.”

Your Highness? Did she know him? Had she recognized him?

She picked him up, holding him as far from her face as humanly possible. “Whoever put a crown on you is a fan of cruel and unusual punishments.”

Oh…well, she was right on that score, anyhow.

She reached to remove it—and then he bit her.

“Ouch!” she yelped, dropping him. “What was that for?”

He saluted her sarcastically.

“I don’t care for frogs,” she said, crossing her arms. “You have a terribly hard bite for such atinything, don’t you?”

Kingsley searched himself for a sign out of habit, only to recall he was missing them all.Drat.

The back door slammed open, and then there was nothing but shouts, screams, and absolute mayhem. Trystan pushed into the kitchen, disheveled and breathing heavily.

Winnifred lurched back, grabbing a fork as she went, and started swinging…with her eyes closed.

Which, for combat purposes, was certainly a choice.

“I told you to knock first,” Evie yelled. “You scared the poor girl,” she finished, walking toward the fork wielder with an improper lack of fear.

“Sage, she’s got a weapon. Don’t,” Trystan said, holding a hand out to stop her, just as the silver prongs stuck into the middle of his palm. The whole room froze, and Evie winced, lips pulled back from her teeth as they all stared at the silver end of the utensil jutting from the boss’s skin. “There’s a fork,” he said, more curiously than angrily. “In my hand.”

Evie said carefully, “Well, of course it’s a fork. I sincerely doubt a spoon could do that.”

Trystan sighed.

“Oh no,” Winnifred whispered.

“Should I pull it out?” Evie asked as Tatianna entered the room.

Tatianna lifted Trystan’s hand, looking it up and down. “Yeah, it’s shallow. It’ll come right out if you tug.”

Trystan pulled his hand away. “No one is pulling anything out!”

Alexander chose that moment to leap for Trystan’s shoulder, using the neck of the fork as a boost. It clattered to the floor, and Trystan cursed as he shook out the appendage. “Damn it, Kingsley.”

“Excuse me.” Winnifred was even quieter, like she had a setting for volume and someone had cranked it as low as possible.

Alexander disliked it.

Neither Trystan nor Evie heard her, though—not over their bickering, anyway.