Page 22 of Adversary to the Villain

“As in…the plant that makes people eat a lot and giggle at nothing?”

His color was already heightened, but it deepened when he mumbled, “I was addressing your worry. There is a leaf I’ve been taking to prevent such instances, so you need not fret that you will be with child.”

Her chest squeezed. “When did you start taking it?”

He looked away, face impassive. “I’m not sure.”

“When?”

He broke. “After we kissed the second time…at your house.”

“So you knew this would happen?” she accused, pointing a finger at him as he draped his cloak around both of them.

The formidable terror that had plagued Rennedawn for ten years blushed to the tips of his ears. “I did not. But you infected me with a touch of hope. And it was a bloody nightmare to shake. So, one day, I just gave in to the thought that it could, and— The point is I’d never take that choice from you.”

It wasn’t the height of romance, knowing he cared for her choices. Her standards should be higher. But it was the earnest way he cared. His respect for her was a fact of his character, not a skill he needed to practice.

Pulling her close, he kissed the top of her head, and every tired muscle within her relaxed. She could sleep just like this. She could sleep just like this every day for the rest of her life.

But that could not be.

Because there would come a day when they could no longer ignore the tragedy of their association.

“I can hear you overthinking.”

“I’m not overthinking.” She frowned, picking up her head to look at him. “If anything, what we just did wasunderthinking.”

His lip curled, and her foolish heart stuttered at the sight. “I’ve always been fond of underthinking. It has such pleasant consequences.”

She batted at his shoulder. “Help me dress, kind sir.” She tried to put together her torn dress but couldn’t stop herself from laughing, slapping Trystan’s hand when he tried to uncover parts of her body the moment they disappeared beneath the fabric. When they’d finally put together a semblance of her former clothing, a squeak of a sneeze came from her nose.

Trystan’s instinct was, of course, to panic. “We need to get you out of the rain before you catch your death.”

“From a cold?” she responded sardonically.

His cloak was thrown over her head before she could say more, blocking the water from her face and drenched curls. “I wanted you to have a moment away. In a place where your magic was safe and you could feel secure. The way I did when I would come to quell my magic. We can return whenever you wish.”

She pulled the hood down so she could see his face and was overcome with emotion. He was trying, truly. Showing her all the parts of him he’d hidden away. It was all she’d ever wanted, and it was happening to her. Until it wasn’t, and when she turned her head…she knew why.

“Trystan…the flowers.”

He followed her gaze to the draping branches of the willow tree, once vibrant in stunning colorful flowers, containing her magic, keeping them safe.

But Evie didn’t need to be safe. Because she was the danger.

The tree’s leaves and flowers were lifeless. Stripped of color. Destroyed.

Oh gods.

“Did— Did I do this?” she asked him, fearing she already knew the answer.

She’d allowed herself to give in to her desires, to put herself first and live truly and freely. It was wonderful, perfect. There was no such rightness she’d ever feel again.

And it had destroyed something precious.

“Sage, the magic is new to you. I destroyed plenty when it was first awoken within me,” Trystan said, but his voice sounded so far away.

“This place? The same one that’s supposed to be safe for this magic?” she accused, knowing her ire was not at him. It was at the world, for forcing her into this.