Accomplice to the Villain (Assistant and the Villain Book 3)

Evie

“Sometimes I have daydreams about punching him in the jaw. Really hard!” Evie exclaimed.

She watched for Rebecka Erring’s reaction. Their newfound friendship was still fresh and potentially fragile, but at the same time, Evie felt very much that she could say anything to Becky, and the Human and Magical Creature Resource woman would understand and, even better, reply with words that could soothe the fire inside Evie.

But Becky didn’t look up from her paperwork. Her long fingers leafed through the pages of her notes one at a time, her glasses perched on the tip of her nose. Behind them, her light-brown eyes flicked to study Evie’s serious expression. “If we’re referring to the boss or anyone else who works in the office, just be sure you fill out a form first.”

Evie huffed, crossing her arms before shoving a freshly baked blueberry scone into her mouth. It was delicious, the sugared dough melting on her tongue. It mattered not that the scone was fluorescent pink where it should’ve been blue; it seemed the strangest creations that came from Edwin’s kitchen tasted the best. Plus, he’d come in on his day off just to make a large batch for everyone after the near miss with Lyssa and her mother’s starlight magic.

Lyssa had thankfully settled quickly after the terrifying encounter. Keeley would heal fully from her physical wounds—thank the gods and thanks to Tatianna, who had been working on the Malevolent Guard captain for the last few hours. Evie owed the captain every gratitude, but the pain in Trystan’s eyes when he’d realized the incident had begun because of his magic…that was something Evie was decidedly not grateful for.

Especially since she was almost certain her mother’s magic wasn’t reacting to Trystan’s magic at all. No, Nura Sage had been reacting to her. Her mother had glimpsed a side to her she’d never seen and rejected it in the most dramatic way possible.

Evie chewed her bright-pink scone with a vengeance, the memory of The Villain’s chastising rebuke only fueling her. “Are you giving me permission?”

Becky didn’t look up, but her lip curled slightly. A sure sign that Evie had barged through her friend’s defenses. “I certainly don’t have the pay grade to stop you.”

Evie folded her arms over her cinched bodice, leaning back in her chair and throwing a wink at Edwin—their office chef and dear friend enjoyed eavesdropping far more than most ogres of Evie’s acquaintance. “I thought you said you were paid best in the office, Becky.”

Rebecka Erring, or—if one knew her better—Rebecka Eriania Fortis, stiffened, her attention flickering to Edwin. “Next to Edwin, of course, and unfortunately, there aren’t work benefits in the world to bid me to stop you from striking someone. My new office included.” Becky shuddered, likely at the thought of losing a well-deserved space of her own, and adjusted her glasses farther up her nose.

Edwin Benington laughed as he stirred the cauldron brew with a large ladle and dropped a refill into both Evie’s and Becky’s ceramic chalices. The nutty aroma was an instant comfort, as was the warmth the chalice brought to Evie’s chilled hands. “I do not think you are the very first to want to strike Trystan, Miss Evie.”

Evie took a bracing sip, the bitterness from the brew sitting on the back of her tongue and livening her senses. “Yes, but might I be the first who wants to do it with a frying pan?”

Edwin looked up thoughtfully, considering. His glasses were no longer too small for his face. Lyssa had ensured the ogre finally had a pair that sat more comfortably atop his blue nose. “Someone threw a soup pot at him once.”

Evie’s ears perked up, and she sat straighter in her seat. “Was there soup in it?”

Edwin frowned. “No.”

“Could there be?” Evie steepled her hands together, smiling gleefully.

“No,” Becky said without looking up. “Edwin isn’t wasting a whole pot of soup on a joke.”

Evie glared, huffing out a breath. “It wouldn’t be a joke.”

“Edwin! The new yellow sparkles arrived!” Lyssa plowed into the kitchens with reckless abandon and with enough energy that you would never know she’d spent an hour crying in Evie’s arms that morning. Nura had fled to her bedchamber, allowing Lyssa the space to recover.

So much pain. It seemed to be all their family was made of these days.

And Evie knew that for their mother, there was no greater pain than disappointing a child you thought you could protect. It was why Evie was grateful for the family they’d found in the offices, for how this group had accepted Lyssa as one of their own, anticipating her little sister’s needs. Evie had never thought of Lyssa as a burden, but it was nice…to have people to share her with.

Edwin seemed to agree, taking Lyssa’s news of the sparkles’ arrival as if she’d told him that the sky was raining gold and chocolate. “That’s wondrous, Miss Lyssa! We must retrieve them at once!”

Lyssa squealed and clapped, running over on her tiptoes, giving Evie a gentle kiss on the cheek and then repeating the sweet gesture with Becky. To the shock of all of them, Becky accepted it with a small smile.

“Not too many sweets while you’re baking.” Becky pointed a finger at Lyssa.

Lyssa grinned and sprinted after Edwin. “I’ll wait until after we’re done, then!”

Becky shook her head while pushing herself up slowly to stand. “The familial relation between the two of you was never in question, but if it were, her conniving wordplay would prove it.”

Evie saluted before sipping another large gulp of her brew. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Becky flicked Evie’s head as she walked past her to return to the mountains of paperwork after the morning’s events. “You would.”

“Are they rebuilding the window?” Evie asked.

Becky shrugged. “Probably. They’ve done it before.”

Evie frowned. “I don’t recall any previously broken windows.”

Becky shook her head, loose, silky brown locks falling from her normally very tight bun. “I meant that the windows have been reconstructed. They used to depict happy things before the boss took over the manor. When he had them replaced, the artist used the glass that was already there. Just rearranged the bits. The boss hates waste.”

The severed heads in the entry doubling as decor pieces were making more and more sense every day.

Becky headed for the door. “Are you coming?”

Evie fiddled with the end of one of her curls. “I’ll be up in a minute.”

Becky didn’t speak again as her footsteps faded away, leaving Evie alone in the silence. She normally detested silence, but as of late, she couldn’t help but relish in it. Her life was louder than ever, as were her thoughts, and it was in these very few moments of peace that she allowed herself to wallow. Properly.

Feeling sorry for oneself took up a ridiculous amount of time, and she hadn’t had nearly enough to do it lately. The past two weeks had been spent juggling out-of-control feelings, plans to steal back the pregnant female guvre after the king’s men stole the animal away during the battle, and, of course, searching for the fourth item in the prophecy to save Rennedawn’s magic. It mattered not if they had every object in their arsenal (which they didn’t). Without the knowledge of that fourth piece, Rennedawn would continue to descend into darkness. Dying magic and all.

Think of me when you’re with the trees.

The memory of the Kissing Tree Caves monster’s last words made her stomach twist so hard, she felt acid rise in her throat. Shutting her eyes, Evie let a few tears fall down her cheeks. She’d tried to return to the caves twice since they found her mother, since the fading magic struck the home of one of the gods left behind. She’d gotten her mother back, and within moments, something pure and good perished. It had been Evie’s fault, for not understanding that her happiness would never come without a price.

The thought overwhelmed her as she stood, swiping at the tears burning down the sides of her face. She looked at her reflection in her favorite stained glass window—the one in the corner of the kitchen with the sun shining down on an old, weathered-looking book—and wiped away the tears, forcing her mouth into a pleasant smile, a practiced one. Evie was an expert at hiding her pain.

A terrible skill.

She hid that the distance between her and Trystan had rattled her. She hid that she laid awake at night worrying about who in the office had helped her father escape. She hid the dark discontent stirring beneath her skin, worrying if Lyssa was growing up right. And most of all, she hid that it was incredibly likely that Trystan Maverine was her true love.

She rubbed at the knuckles she knew he’d pressed his lips to—the only reason she had awakened from the sleeping-death fruit’s slumber. The antidote she’d never taken even now was clanging around in her pocket. Useless.

“Ugh.” Evie pulled it out and leaned it toward the basin in the corner, intending to dump it, but couldn’t bring herself to uncork the bottle. “I’ve gotten used to you, I suppose,” she said, rolling the vial in her palm. “Not so easy to destroy what’s familiar.”

Unless, of course, someone enters while one is talking to oneself, making every internal organ jump three inches.

“Ah!” Evie let out an embarrassingly high-pitched squeal, the motion forcing her arm to slam into the basin, releasing the vial of antidote and shattering it on the ground.

“My apologies, miss!” A blond man had appeared at the doorway, dressed in a nice shirt and slacks—nothing extraordinary about them, but sensible, understated.

Evie clutched her chest before shaking her head at the newcomer and making her way for the cupboard with the dustpan and broom. “It’s quite all right. It’s a hazard, talking to oneself. Sometimes you get so caught up in conversation, you forget there are far less predictable people to converse with.”

The man’s eyes shifted back and forth, looking for something or someone. “I just arrived. I’m here to repair the stained glass window.” He held up a toolbox, and Evie relaxed a little at the explanation.

Her heart continued its erratic pace anyway, perhaps from the excitement of her surprise only seconds ago.

But that didn’t explain the goose bumps rising on her arms. “Oh, of course.” Evie scanned the man’s face. Her heart accelerated. “The broken window is upstairs.”

The man nodded, walking around her and dropping the toolbox on the kitchen counter with a thud that made her jump. Meeting Evie’s confused gaze, he gave her a sheepish grin. “Thought I’d fuel up before I get to work.” He pulled an empty ceramic chalice from the countertop and ladled a large serving of cauldron brew into it, motioning it up toward her like a toast. “Care to join me?”

No, random man I’ve never met before. I have stewing in my office to do, followed by lewd daydreams of my boss.

Licking her lips, she grabbed her own mug and made for the door. “That’s kind, but I shouldn’t—I have work. But when you’re through, the window repair is up one flight in the main office. Can’t miss it.” She forced a laugh, but it sounded as strangled as it felt.

The man smiled back at her. He was being friendly, yet Evie seemed to have lost the ability to socialize. And by “lost,” she meant she’d never found the ability in the first place.

“No problem,” he said. “Maybe another time?” He was handsome, like one of the princes from Lyssa’s stories, and he did absolutely nothing for her aside from trigger her irritation at being stuck in this conversation.

Don’t you remember, Evie? Men only do it for you if they’re dismembering people!

“Maybe,” Evie replied quickly, turning on her heel and clamoring down the hall as fast as her heels would carry her. “Maybe?” she muttered to herself. Why was she so incredibly awkward? There was no way in the deadlands she was ever having a cauldron brew with that man.

Blade moseyed up beside her. “Maybe what, sweet Evie?”

She smiled, leaning into her dear friend’s shoulder, and smoothed back a lock of his long hair as they walked toward the stairs together arm in arm. “Maybe I have terrible taste in men.”

“Impossible!” Blade gasped. “You’re friends with me.” Evie laughed, furrowing her brow when she saw what was in his hand.

“Blade, dear. I love that you have rainbow pliers, and they do match your magenta vest rather well, but what are you doing with those?”

Blade didn’t miss a beat. “The magical maintenance repairmen asked for an extra one. They’re fixing the window upstairs right now. Poor guys’ve been at it for hours.”

Evie stopped just before they hit the first step. Everything seemed to slow down around her as ice bit into her skin, seeping into her blood and through the rest of her limbs. A terrible prickling feeling climbed up her neck as her pounding heart turned to a roaring in her ears.

She didn’t think. She ran.

“Evie?” Blade called. “What’s wrong?”

“Get the boss! Quick!”

She sprinted back down the hall, and as she ran through the kitchen door, her heart sank.

The strange man was at her favorite stained glass window, a tool in hand to chip out a piece.

“Stop!” she ordered, her dagger finding its way out of her thigh strap and into her hand. “Back away from that window.”noveldrama

The man laughed, his eyes crinkling, giving Evie a look that she was certain every woman had seen at least once in her life. A look that said, I could hurt you if I wanted to.

“Come to have that cup of cauldron brew now?” He chuckled. Then unsheathed a two-sided blade from the holster hidden behind his back.

She nodded, masking the sick feeling in her stomach with feigned innocence. “Yes, actually.”

The blond man’s eyes narrowed as she walked toward him with her mug…and splashed the hot liquid right in his face. With a gruff cry, he lunged for her. He would have nearly missed her if not for catching hold of her braid and tugging her backward, then releasing her, the momentum forcing her to slam into the wall.

Her ears rang at the impact, and in that moment, she knew with certainty that this man not only could hurt her, but he very much wanted to. The blood in her veins was no longer ice; it was fire.

The next thing she knew, he was charging at her, blade swinging.

She screamed.