Page 73 of Accomplice to the Villain

Fowler laughed heartily and angled his head back toward Trystan, as much as the grip still around the lord’s neck allowed. “Oh, Villain, she is a delight.”

“As delightful as dragon pox,” he said flatly.

“Sexually transmitted?” Evie tapped her lip coyly.

The Villain choked.

She’d won.

Fowler’s eyes gleamed. “Gods, I have half a mind to hire her out from under you, Villain.”

Trystan didn’t say anything, just paused a moment.

But only a moment—before casually hurling Lord Fowler over the edge.

Chapter 40

The Villain

“Trystan!” Sage screamed, running to the edge.

“Oh dear. He fell,” Trystan replied with zero emotion behind it.

She slapped his arm and searched the dark for the body hurtling toward the earth. “Why did you do that?”

“I have a policy against the poaching of my employees.” He straightened his shirt and brushed out the wrinkles.

“And the punishment is death?” she said, exasperated.

For attempting to steal Sage? The punishment was being skinned alive, but he didn’t have a butter knife on him.

“No, it’s shoving. It was merely unlucky for him that he brought us up to such great heights.” He’d started fiddling with the pulley, and the balloon and basket began to dip in gradual degrees.

Still shaking off the shock, Sage stood on her tiptoes to peer over his shoulder, her breath against his neck making him tremble. “Do you know how to work this thing?”

He muttered, “You pull this lever to release the cool air into the balloon slowly, so it moves toward the ground gradually. More heat to have it move up.”

Evie planted a hand on her hip, the other pulling her loose curls to the side so the wind would stop pushing the strands in her face. “Where did you learn that?”

“I read science textbooks when I have spare moments in the day.”

Evie sighed. “Ah, of course. Nothing takes your mind off murder and villainy like physics.”

“I often find myself saying the same!” A shout over the wind made Sage scream in surprise before hurling herself into Trystan’s chest. His hand fell protectively around her on instinct.

Physical affection had always seemed such a pointless display to him. Holding hands, hugging, touches of comfort, or anything that required two people making contact other than the violent kind.

But the way Sage felt in his arms made him want to do all those things. She’d made him want tohold hands. And he’d never forgive her for it.

“What. The. Deadlands!” Evie screeched. Trystan was irritatingly amused by her outrage, her blue eyes round as saucers as Fowler floated into the basket and landed with hardly a thud. “You— He flew! You flew!”

Fowler grinned, his stupid pompous mustache making him look like an insolent king who was playing with them like pawns on a chessboard. “He’s seen me do it before, Ms. Sage.”

Sage shoved out of Trystan’s arms, and his hands twitched at his sides from the loss of sensation. “You knew he’d do that?”

Yes, he had, and he was seconds from throwing Fowler over a second time.

“I’d hoped Lord Fowler would have the courtesy to fall to his death.” Trystan glared at his associate.