Page 86 of Adversary to the Villain

Away from him. From all of them. From her found family.

She wouldn’t stop, even knowing that the one person she would never outrun, no matter how far she went…

Was herself.

Chapter 42

Gideon

One Agonizing Week Later…

Trystan Maverine no longer resembled a princeorvillain. His beard was overgrown more than Gideon had ever seen it, his hair falling in untamed locks that kept sweeping into his eyes. Dark, empty eyes. His office was drafty and dim, lit by only a few candles, with dawn’s early light barely beginning to trickle in. The light was too low for reading, but there Maverine sat nonetheless.

ScanningThe Cunning Corset Societylike it contained secrets yet untold.

No, Trystan Maverine no longer resembled The Villain.

He’d become more like a hermit—albeit one with a penchant for throwing people out the window.

The man’s foul mood had begun the moment Gideon’s sister disappeared among the trees. It manifested in short bouts of rage in which any employee pissing him off became a flight risk. Literally.

“Do you intend to stand there for the remainder of the year, Mr. Sage, or do you plan on telling me what the fuck you want.” He wasn’t yelling. Trystan Maverine had no need for such tactics, but it was even eerier for how dangerously calm the man had grown.

Gideon cleared his throat. “I brought the book of Rennedawn up for you when you’re done with your…pleasure reading.”

The man’s empty eyes narrowed, his mouth pulling into a dissatisfied frown. Bad for Gideon. Very bad for Gideon. “I asked Lyssa to bring it,” he clarified through clenched teeth.

Now, to a logical person who valued their head, this would be the time to make a hasty exit. But Gideon was being eaten alive by guilt and worry for his sister, and it didn’t leave much room for tact.

“Do you honestly think yourself fit to be in front of either of my sisters right now?”

He was already ducking before his sentence finished, knowing an object would be lobbed at his head. Thankfully, at least, it was the paperback.

Whistling, trying to appear unperturbed, Gideon approached the man’s desk and dropped Rennedawn’s storybook atop it. “Not sure what you’re going to find in an empty book.”

Maverine was standing before Gideon could back away. “It’s not empty. It’s just selective about what it shares and when. The prophecy—”

“Oh gods!” Gideon bemoaned. “I’m so sick of this storm cloud prophecy that seems to be dragging you and my sister around by your throats. They’re just words! What do they matter when Evie is gone and no one knows where she is?”

Except for Gideon.

He knew where she was.

He didn’t say this to Maverine, however, even as the man grabbed his collar with a raised fist.

Keeley chose that moment to push open the doors, stopping Maverine before the blow landed on Gideon’s face.

“Tempting as that may be, sir, I have the updates you asked for.” Keeley turned to him with the hint of a smirk, and a painful twist began in his gut. “The Malevolent Guards set traps all about the manor’s borders. One wrong move from the Valiant, and they’ll explode.”

“Very good. And were you able to track down Joseph The Scholar?”

Sighing and shoving her long braid behind her shoulder, she rubbed a hand over her heart. “There are a few leads but nothing concrete yet. The man made himself very difficult to track. You said he was an acquaintance of Edwin’s—should we ask him if he might have any ideas?”

“No,” Maverine said immediately. “We leave Edwin out of this.”

Keeley appeared ready to argue, but she bit her lip. “Yes, sir.”

Gideon spoke when he knew he should’ve remained silent. As was the case every time he opened his mouth. “Why do you want to find Joseph The Scholar? Isn’t he some sort of recluse?”