Page 42 of Adversary to the Villain

“Clare is not where our loyalties lie, I must remind you,” Rebecka murmured, peering around for any signs of life. “And when the boss inevitably finds out, we would be the first people he’d point fingers at for keeping it from him.”

Blade started to argue, but when he opened the boss’s office door, a large mass slammed into him so hard that he went airborne, then fell in a crumpled heap to the ground.

Rebecka gasped, reaching for him, but she only had a moment to react before rough hands shoved her up against the wall. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t little Rebecka Fortis.” A large arm was shoved against her throat, and she was confronted with a face she’d seen for the first time years ago—when her family’s magic chose her to inherit.

“Hello, Walter,” Rebecka managed to grind out with as much derision as she could muster for someone from her old life. “Would you care for a bit of mint leaf? Your breath is foul.”

She gasped in relief when the pressure at her throat fell away, rubbing at the spot. Then she realized that Blade had lifted the man—Lord Walter Loring—up by the lapels and was currently shaking him.

“Walter.” Blade grinned frighteningly. “Do you believe in an afterlife?”

Walter twisted and groaned beneath Blade’s hands, clearly outmatched by the much younger man. “No, you rutting bastard,” he spat.

“Well,Ido!” Blade said pleasantly. “So why don’t I kill you and you can let me know which of us is right. Unless you have any objections?” Blade asked her, looking very hopeful that she wouldn’t. “This isn’t a family relation, is it?”

“Gods, is that Lord Walter?” Roland, her older brother, chose that moment to approach, shoving his glasses farther up his nose.

“Indeed,” Rebecka said airily, “but we have him under control.” She narrowed her eyes at her brother. “Where have you been?” Roland was not made for deception. But she would not put anything past someone who still resided with their manipulative mother.

“I was trying to be of assistance with Marvin’s poison. I have the rash burns from the heat plant to prove it.” Roland held up his hands, displaying the angry red lines across his palms. “In case you were unsure.”

“I’m merely being cautious.” Rebecka shot him the look she gave all her brothers. The one that said,Don’t begin a battle with me if you do not wish to go to war.

“Of course.” Roland folded his hands nervously. “Listen, Bex, I know this is a tall order when it comes to trust. But Marvin’s poison would be far easier to treat at Fortis Fortress. Our options for magical herbs and plants are far more expansive.”

Rebecka felt her hackles rise, but Roland had never been a good liar. If he truly believed he could undo the poison in Marv’s system, then…she’d have to let him.

And hope she didn’t regret it. “I’ll run it past the boss, but I agree with you—unfortunately. Still, you must take two Malevolent Guards with you to report on your progress.”

Roland looked pleased at the faith she’d just entrusted him with, so pleased that she believed he would’ve agreed to a hundred Malevolent. “I will not let you down.”

“No. You won’t.” She smiled at her brother, and his eyes flashed behind her to the man currently struggling underneath Blade’s bulk.

“So, what’s Old Man Walter doing here?” Roland contemplated the man with more curiosity than horror. A side effect of Massacre Manor.

“He’s been imprisoned below for nearly a year,” Becky started. “After he attempted to murder me on my walk to work last autumn.”

Blade’s head snapped down to the man below him, and the friendly demeanor he always sported vanished completely. “Did he now?”

“Blade, stop shoving his nose into the floors; they were just refinished.” She rubbed at her temples. “And yes, he did. I suspect it was petty bitterness from when I refused his proposal.”

“Of marriage?Thisman proposed marriage toyou?” Blade asked, face twisted in disgust. “Venture yourself a wizard, Lord Walter?”

“You brat! I am of noble blood, a member of the king’s private council! She’d be lucky to have a man of my caliber!”

Rebecka narrowed her gaze and pulled a knife from her skirts, tipping it under his chin. “Since. When. Are you. A member of the king’s council.” When the wretch began to shake, her anger coiled within her, winding up all the emotions she’d been giving free rein.

“Just before I came to kill you,” Walter whined, crying out when Rebecka pressed the knife close enough to draw blood. “Be-Benedict offered me a place with his advisors if I got myself captured. He was meant to get me out after I found the—” He stopped talking, shutting his lips tight.

“Found what?” Rebecka demanded, inches away from shoving the knife home.

Walter flinched, whimpering, but did not break, fear of something more than death in his stare. “Just…after,” he whispered.

Rebecka raised the knife high, watching in satisfaction as Walter covered his face, crying out pleas for his miserable life.

But Rebecka Erring was quite fond of her moral high ground, and she’d hold on to it as long as she was able. The knife clattered to the ground when she tossed it, and when Walter opened his eyes, she rolled hers. “Roland, put him in the cartography closet until we can secure the dungeons. I believe The Villain would enjoy another round of questioning.”

Blade leaned down with bewilderment and whispered, “Whichvillain?” Her elbow met his chest.