Page 44 of Adversary to the Villain

Tatianna nodded, but she wouldn’t meet any of their eyes. “This was a horrendous evening. I should check on Marv. See Roland’s progress. I—” She looked at Trystan like she wanted to say something and then gave Evie the same look. “I think I’m ready for bed. Clare?”

Clare’s guarded eyes flicked up from the floor. “Yes?”

“You’re coming with me?” Tatianna asked, holding out her hand, an unspoken conversation happening between them. “The Malevolent Guards have it under control. We’ll continue our work in the morning.”

Clare swallowed, eyes glassy when she took Tatianna’s hand, and the two started walking together toward the healer’s quarters.

“Did you see that?” Evie squealed, clasping her hands and folding them underneath her chin. “It seems those two are finally moving forward.”

“It seems that way…” Trystan murmured, stepping closer without ceremony to wipe a bit of blood from her cheek with his thumb. “They’re hiding something.”

“Oh, you and your negativity. What if they just wanted some peace and quiet?”

Trystan looked around with an arched brow. “Then they chose the wrong place to live.”

“But the manor is so peaceful!” Evie proclaimed with feigned innocence.

“It was once,” Trystan mused, gaze caught in a memory. “Before you, before everyone. I hated it.”

Her heart filled to a size that made her worry for her rib cage, and she turned away lest her face reveal her emotions. That was when her gaze snagged on something among the unconscious prisoners.

“Did someone…discard their pants?” Evie mused, picking up the trousers, tilting her head. “Is there a man running around naked?”

One of the pixies flying by stopped to teeter. “It’s been happening all day, Ms. Sage.” And then she flew off before another question could be asked.

Trystan tugged at a few strands of his hair. “See? So fucking peaceful.” He frowned when she handed the garment to him. “There’s something hard in the pocket.”

“I was alarmed the first time I made that discovery, too. But I promise it’s normal,” Evie teased with a grin, taking a step away when he turned to glare while fishing the object out of the pocket. “What is it?”

Trystan held it out to her with a concerned look, and her heart rate spiked when she saw what it was.

Kingsley’s crown.

Chapter 21

Trystan

The night came and went without more bloodshed.

Much to Trystan’s regret.

“She finally fell asleep,” Sage said as she left Lyssa’s room, rubbing at her eyes, which had dark circles smudged beneath. “But only after I retrieved her new pet snail from Blade.”

“Are you referring to the lord Winnifred transformed by accident?”

“His name is Blossom now…and he’s Lyssa’s new best friend,” Evie said with a small smile. “She tucked him in just now with a flower petal.”

He half laughed, half sighed. “Seems entirely reasonable. As would the idea of you also getting some sleep. Now,” he ordered, sounding far angrier than he’d meant to.

“And you don’t?” she accused, narrowing her eyes. The gray mist hovered by her shoulders, ready to strike out at him. It was odd to view that magic as an outsider. Odd but not unpleasant. It was where it belonged now.

The sunrise was upon them, the rain still making its steady descent, though the thunder had abated.

Trystan had escorted a grateful Roland and a still-ailing Marvin through the thorny grove and off the premises, along with several Malevolent Guards flanking them. Roland had left on the promise to return the moment he found a cure among the magical plants on The Fortis Family Fortress property. Which would prove to be a fantastic idea or a terrible one. He was eager to find out.

And eager to see the continued success of the enchantress-in-training currently sitting cross-legged in the pathway to the courtyard where they stood, holding her wand over the broken magical locks, slowly mending them. Slower than the lord-turned-snail—orBlossom, he supposed.

Winnifred had been at it for nearly the entire night after spending several hours hiding away from the noise and chaos. The rest of them had managed to trap the worst of the prisoners, the ones who’d survived the Malevolent Guards. The number was low. For which Trystan was thankful.