Page 140 of Adversary to the Villain

“Yes.” Because she knew with absolute certainty that she could be better at nurturing the good in her life, while her mother was doomed to spurn it. Which reminded her…she needed to facilitate some joy right that second. “Go on. I’ll be right behind you.”

Tatianna nodded, patting her hand.

“Jellyfish Jones!” Clare called when the pink bows pulling back Tatianna’s braids had disappeared from sight. “May I speak with you?”

Tatianna’s father’s ostentatious coat was easy to spot as he weaved through the crew departing for the dock. Clare’s anger at Jones had faded overnight, now replaced by a heaping pile of nerves. “Good morning, Clarissa, how do you fare?”

She didn’t lead into the question. At all.

“May I have your permission to ask Tatianna to marry me…again?” she blurted out, then winced, realizing how fickle this sounded.

Jellyfish Jones took off his hat, holding it to his chest, appearing overcome. “I’ll tell you the same thing I did when you asked her mother and me the first time.”

Clare searched her memory and then smiled when she found it. “I need Tatianna’s permission, not yours.”

He pulled Clare in for a hug she sorely needed—the kind you get from a father. Her heart twisted when he patted her back. “You do have our blessings, always.” He pulled away and swallowed, sniffling. “Your father was…well, he was my best friend, and I know if the roles were reversed, he would look out for my Tati. So, though I’d never seek to take your father’s place—should you need one, I am at your disposal.”

Clare was crying freely when she hugged him again. “Thank you.”

When they separated, he frowned. “Have you seen Alexander? The man or the frog?”

“No, I haven’t since Evie and Trystan went to, um…rest.”

Captain Jones frowned. “That’s curious. Perhaps he already disembarked? Though I suppose we would notice a naked man leaving the premises.” He chuckled, but the amusement faded when he did a double take at the side of the boat.

“Missing something, Captain?” King Benedict appeared on the deck in opulent dress, his sleek black fur cloak blowing behind him in the wind, and Clare was frightened to find a bit of Trystan in the way he walked. Griffin Sage followed his king at a distance, taking subtle glances around the boat. “I thought we could all disembark together, as a show of good faith.”

“Evie and Trystan will be along in a moment,” Clare told him, fearing something had gone wrong.

“Clare!” The urgency in Tatianna’s voice as she reappeared on land was the only thing Clare needed to abandon ship—literally—leaping atop the ramp and sprinting downward until she saw the source of Tatianna’s cry.

Her mother, Lia. “Clarissa!” Lia pulled Clare in for a hug, kissing both her cheeks. “My goodness, how well you look! Doesn’t she look well, Tatianna?”

“Mother.” Tatianna rolled her eyes with a fond smile. “Yes, she looks very well.”

“Indeed!” Malcolm appeared next, and Clare felt relief like no other, throwing her arms around her older brother. “You took forever to arrive.” He laid a kiss to her head and handed her a sealed letter. “This came to the house this morning addressed to Evie. Is she about?”

“She’s coming,” Tatianna blurted. Clare ripped the seal, and Tatianna squeaked. “Should you be opening that?”

Perhaps not. But it was a good thing she did. For when Clare finished reading the missive from Gideon, her heart fell and her soul twisted into ugly knots. “Oh gods,” Clare whispered.

“What is it?” Tatianna murmured.

Clare couldn’t feel her fingers. It was as if they were unattached from her body entirely when she said, “It’s Alexander.”

Chapter 73

Evie

They were halfway through digging when Evie heard steps coming down the pebbled path. “Trystan,” Evie hissed, throwing her shovel in one of the butterfly bushes, pulling at his arm. “Someone’s coming.”

“Oi! There you are. I managed to find you a right pretty frock, that I did!” the guard started. Then: “Hey! What are you doing?” His bushy brows were pushed together, a sneer on his lips. He made it three steps toward them before something struck his head, knocking him out cold. Standing behind him, rock still raised in his hand, was a man, staring at the rock like it was the one that had done the swinging.

“Kingsley!” Evie cried, grabbing his hands and hugging him. “That was a wonderfully timed rescue.”

Alexander Kingsley bowed, his borrowed cloak covering a white linen shirt, the fabric wrinkling when he bent. “I’m happy to be of service…for my friends.”

“Are the others already here?” Trystan asked.