Page 80 of Accomplice to the Villain

“No. There aren’t,” he said, quick and firm, uncaring.

A thousand pockets could’ve laid on the back of that dress and Trystan would have no clue. He saw the curves and his vital organs began to shut down.

“My friends, my friends! Come!” Lord Fowler stood just outside the room where the guests were gathered, dressed as a king of the realm. A large, ostentatious crown sat atop his head, his fur robe coming untied as he opened his arms to welcome them.

Tatianna entered first, gliding through the room and smoothly slipping a glass of sparkling liquid from a serving tray. Clare tracked in after her, warning daggers aimed at Fowler.

Fowler took a gallant, sweeping bow, gesturing for them both to enter. “Come now, Villain! A dinner party for the ages. I think you’re due for some fun.”

Trystan crossed his arms, replying coolly, “I tortured a man a few days ago. That was fun.”

Sage’s hand flew over her mouth, and her eyes were wide. They glistened, as if filling with tears. She shook her head and pushed past both men into the throng of costumed guests.

He realized his error too late.

Trystan had just made a jest of the man who had broken into the manor and hurt her. A man who’d been the son ofanotherman who had hurt her, forcing all of her pain back to the forefront. It was perfect, actually, Trystan tried to tell himself; he hadn’t even needed totryto push her away. He was skilled at it all on his own.

But keeping away from her in turn—Trystan found that considerably more difficult.

Which was his last scathing thought before he tore after her.

Chapter 44

Evie

Evie could feel Trystan following her, but she couldn’t stop. She kept her hand clamped over her mouth as she cut past staring people, moving to the back of the room covertly before a hand came around her arm.

“Come, apprentice,” Trystan said blandly. “I have business to discuss.” He tugged her into an alcove in the corner of the room. She didn’t protest, just yelped a bit and allowed him to lead her away. Once they were away from prying eyes, he continued. “I shouldn’t have brought up Warsen’s son. I didn’t mean to remind you of it. I apologize and— For gods’ sake, Sage, are you laughing under there?”

Evie’s hand fell from her mouth, and she gasped out a loud belt of laughter that she’d tried to hold back for the last several moments. “I’m sorry.” She gasped, wiping a tear falling down her cheek.

“Sage.” He paused, brows lifted. “Are you laughing because I mentioned torture?”

Her hands gripped her cheeks, and she winced. “That’s bad, isn’t it?”

He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s certainly notgood.”

“I wasn’t laughing at the torture itself, per se. It was just such a quick rejoinder, and then I thought to myself,Don’t laugh at torture, Evie! That’s not funny!But then when I told myself it wasn’t funny, well, then it did become a little funny and— Stop looking at me like that. I’ve seen you crack a sick little grin while having your heads hung up.”

“That’s because I have a hankering for home decor.”

She let out another strangled laugh and slapped him on the chest. “Stop making me laugh and making it impossible not to enjoy your ridiculous costume! If you want to push me away, you’re not allowed to be funny!”

His dark eyes went cold. “Wantto push you away?”

A thrill went through her at the break in his composure, but it wasn’t a consolation. Her plan to topple his defenses until he cracked and told her the truth was starting to seem a little less villainous and a lot more…pathetic.

Despite that one bit of headway, it was time to give it a rest, at least for the night.

She bolstered her confidence and straightened her spine. “Let’s let it go. All right? I shouldn’t have said anything.” She pressed a finger to his lips when he began to speak. “There’s no getting out of here until Fowler’s gotten his kicks, so let’s play the game, keep our eyes peeled for the wand, and maybe even enjoy ourselves a little.”

Trystan grumbled, “It’s a dinner party, Sage. Nothing to enjoy about it.”

She shrugged off the sting, straightening her outfit and pulling out the coin-sized pot of rouge she’d slipped in between her breasts. Opening the lid carefully, she dabbed a finger in it and rubbed more color to her bottom lip, pressing them together to disperse the rouge evenly. “Well then, you find a potted plant to glare at, andIwill go and enjoy myself.” She tapped the lid back onto the cannister and jumped when she saw the look on his face.

It appeared as if his entire body had gone into some sort of stasis, angled away from her. “What happened?” He was so still it was… She gasped. “Did you get hit with another tranquilizer dart thing? Can you feel anything?” she asked, gripping his arm with wide eyes.

His voice was strangled. “Unfortunately.”