Page 165 of Accomplice to the Villain

“That’s my line.”

“I mean it, Trystan. If the prophecy is to be believed, you have a true love to save, and it won’t be the villain of the tale.” She said the last word on a sob, gazing at the window until he forced her chin back toward him, his fingers gentle as he held her face.

“The reason my magic”—he swallowed—“yourmagic was going wild wasn’t because of Rennedawn’s curse. It was because we kissed.”

Evie shook her head. “Don’t tell me this. Please.”

But he showed no mercy. “I broke your sleeping-death curse, and you broke mine—being trapped with magic that belonged to another. That’s why the mist kept looking for you. And that’s why I always will, too.”

“Trystan,” she pleaded, too overwhelmed by a fate he’d so easily accepted, overwhelmed by the role reversal of him being the sure one.

He let go of her, stepping backward. “This isn’t over, Sage. I am going to find Kingsley, and after that, we will track down the guvre. We have guards posted around her nest. I’m hoping she’ll return, and then you and I will fulfill the prophecy and save the kingdom.Together.”

She hated how much she wanted that, hated that there was too much hurt festering in her to let her reach out and grab it. But she didn’t need to reach.

Trystan Maverine gave it to her. “You can resist this all you want, Sage. I had my turn, and now it’s yours, but as you said, I won’t be giving up on you. Ever.” He turned on his heel, then paused, spinning back without warning and kissing Evie with a fierceness that made her reach out to grab his shoulders. For the most fleeting of moments, they were locked together, and her treacherous heart knew nothing had ever felt or would ever feel so right.

And then it was over and he let go, dimple peeking through as he nodded, backing away.

There was a dark promise on his face. “You have been my downfall, Evie Sage, and now I…I will be your undoing.”

As he left her alone, the dark mist pooling around her feet, Evie stared at her window and took a breath.

Speaking to it as she always had, she tilted her head, pulling her lips into a malevolent grin. “Well. This should be fun.”

Epilogue

Clare

The following morning…

Clare had lost everything.

Hours after her father’s death, she was still numb. Nothing was real to her. The breeze brushing against her cheek was an illusion, the sun shining down on her a flagrant lie.

Her father’s body was being prepared to travel back to their village. He’d be buried by the sea.

They’d all failed.

Alexander had disappeared hours ago, leaping into Hickory Forest before anyone could stop him. Tatianna had told Clare this, but she had not registered it, her brain not processing the words. The only thing she found she wanted to do was wander aimlessly around the manor, its grounds, even into the forest.

Dead. All she knew was that her father was dead.

And it was her fault.

Alexander never would have had to be transformed back if Clare hadn’t gotten involved. He’d never have lost ten years of his life or his ability to speak; he’d never have lost himself completely because the magic had run out.

Standing now on the edge of Hickory Forest, she somehow managed to clock that it had begun raining again. Drops of water slid down her cheeks, dripping from her chin. But the sun still shone. It took her several moments to realize it was not rain after all, but her tears.

She wiped at her eyes, but that only seemed to make the tears come faster until she was sobbing, hunched over on her knees.

“It’s all my fault. All my fault.” She cried until her voice was hoarse and her throat burned. Not picking her head up—

Until bare feet appeared in front of her, a hand reaching down with a handkerchief, and when she looked up, she gasped so sharply, it caused her to fall back on her elbows.

A man stood there. Tall. Dark, curly, long hair brushing just past his shoulders, skin a light brown, eyes the color of deep gold.

And he was stark naked.