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

Clare

Clare Maverine had made a slew of mistakes in her life.

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Agreeing to work side by side with the woman she loved…that was one of the worst to date.

“Can you cut me more bandages, Clarissa?” Tatianna said her full name with that melodic ring the healer’s voice always had, so smooth it tickled a part of Clare’s brain she wished would remain neutral in Tatianna’s presence.noveldrama

“Clarissa?”

Clare shook her head, her dark bob swept back by two flowered pins yet still managing to fall into her face. “Sorry. Yes, of course.” Clare took careful snips of the gauzy fabric that Tatianna was currently placing against Keeley’s mostly healed back.

Keeley, to her credit, remained quiet despite their encouragement for her to scream as loudly as she pleased. Burns were never pleasant to heal, even with Tatianna’s magic. “You’ll have to take it easy for about a week, Keeley. I mean it. No training, and you’ll have to delay any missions into the Gleaming Palace. You won’t be able to lead anyone to the female guvre in your condition.”

The captain’s eyes shone with a flash of defiance, but she nodded in deference. Clare knew what it was to hate being out of control, how terrible the captain must feel, as if she were letting down her comrades and her employer.

But in reality, she had done so much for them all already.

Two more Malevolent Guards stood in the corner with Gideon Sage, who had only been permitted to remain because Keeley seemed to relax every time he made a quick-witted remark.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Keeley said. “But time isn’t exactly on our side, and our new recruits need guidance.” She pushed herself onto her elbows, some color returning to her cheeks. Clare knew she was referring to the fact that the female guvre could be pregnant for another few months, but it was equally possible she would give birth in the next few weeks or even days. Very little information was catalogued on Fate’s creatures, mostly history from the early days of the magical gods’ creation of the kingdoms. How fate had aided the gods, then left their creatures behind to keep the balance between man and magic.

With the state of Rennedawn’s magic, it was clear man had failed. Miserably.

Min and Andrea, the other two guards, tried to smile, Min running a hand over Keeley’s very thick braid dangling off the exam table, moving over it in steady motions. “We’ll take the reins, Keel—you just take some well-needed rest.” Min frowned when she saw a few pieces of scorched hair.

Andrea tsked, kicking a red boot against the floor. “Yikes. Can we have the scissors?”

Keeley stiffened. “Why?” Her voice was shaky.

Tatianna mindlessly handed the shears to Andrea, none of them sensing Keeley’s evident distress, but Clare could read it. Clare had felt it. “We’re just going to take a few inches off to hide these burned pieces, honey,” Andrea said.

“No!” In seconds, Keeley had sprung from the table and sprinted to the wall, her red leather armor open at the back as she huddled on the floor. Almost unrecognizable as the warrior Clare knew the woman to be, she looked frightened and dazed, shaking. Her eyes misted as she looked up toward Gideon, who’d moved almost without thought to her side. “Don’t—don’t let them cut my hair. Please. I don’t like it when people try to cut my hair. Please, I don’t—”

The rest of the words were lost as Keeley shook so hard her teeth chattered. Gideon’s eyes didn’t leave her, his brown brows pushing together, his lips pulled down in a frown.

Clare couldn’t help it—the intimacy between the two forced her gaze in Tatianna’s direction, but the healer was already looking right at her. Clare could only hold the intensity of the gaze for a moment before looking away.

“Get rid of the scissors.” Gideon’s words were gentle but firm, resolved. He turned to Keeley. “I promise I won’t let anyone touch your hair, Captain.” He knelt and drew an X with a finger over his heart. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

It was a mystery why the young woman seemed so shaken by an act so simple, but Clare had known enough scarred people to realize that the simplest acts could trigger the worst memories. Min and Andrea didn’t seem any less confused as they nodded and left the room, giving Keeley some much needed privacy.

Gideon grabbed a fluffy pink blanket from the corner, draped it over a chair, then guided Keeley toward it and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Shall I take you to your quarters, Captain?” Keeley nodded, and Gideon barely acknowledged the two of them as he lifted her like something precious and carried her from the room.

Tatianna sighed and watched with a wistful look on her face. “I really loved that blanket.”

Clare smiled, bumping her hip against Tatianna’s. The healer’s braids were pulled back in a high ponytail, giving Clare a perfect view of every beautiful plane of Tatianna’s face. “You lost it to a good cause.”

Alexander Kingsley hopped in through the open door just then, jarring Clare back to the reality of the life she’d built on the back of her best friends. He held up a singular sign.

Wind

Tatianna crouched to be eye level with their princely childhood-best-friend-turned-cursed-frog. “Alexander, why are you speaking in riddles?” Kingsley shook his tiny head and pointed a foot toward the door before scribbling something else onto the sign he’d pulled from the basket in the corner of the room.

Kitch

Clare sighed, frustrated that they needed to decipher Alexander’s words this way. What was he getting at?

“Any ideas?” Tatianna looked up at Clare with a sheepish expression, her pink lips pulling wide at the corners in a near wince. “I got nothing. He’s normally more articulate than this.”

The camaraderie that had been tentatively building back between them gave Clare pangs of guilt in her stomach, but she selfishly wasn’t prepared to give up the newfound ease. Just as she wasn’t ready to admit that the day Tatianna walked out of Clare’s life, she truly realized the depth of pain that came with a broken heart.

She could own her mistakes, and she could make amends for them.

She could start now.

Tatianna licked her lips, drawing Clare’s attention to them as Tati took a large swig of water. “I’m glad you’re here.”

You wouldn’t be. If you knew what I’ve done. How much I’m like my mother…

Clare felt the truth burning on her tongue, dancing at the edge of her parting lips. But the only thing to come out was, “Me too. I don’t like when we aren’t together.”

Tatianna’s dark eyes softened as she took Clare’s hand and squeezed her fingers. “Maybe when this is all over, we could give…being together…another try.”

Clare felt hope swell, sudden and strong, drowning out her guilt, her secrets, everything. “You would…want to be with me again?”

The healer began fiddling with her potions, reorganizing them—a tell of nervousness she’d had since they were children. “I would be willing to try.”

Clare sat on one of the stools at Tati’s work desk, knowing she needed to tread lightly. “Do you remember the day we first met?”

Tatianna grinned. “I remember you telling me my shoes had too much glitter.”

Clare folded her arms, quirking a brow. “And I remember you being so offended you dumped a vial of the stuff on our front porch.”

Tatianna showed no remorse at this reminder, just delight. “Yes, that was a wonderful day. Your mother was furious. I don’t know why she never reprimanded me for it.”

Clare looked down at her hands. “I told her I did it.”

“Why on earth did you do that?” Tati asked. Clare looked up to see she was smiling quizzically at her.

On a deep inhale, Clare breathed in the scents of herbs and medicines, the smells so exact to Tati; they soothed. “I was afraid she wouldn’t let you come over again. I think I told Tryst that night I wanted to marry you.”

Tatianna pushed aside the glass bottles and leaned her elbows across the table. “And what did he say?”

Clare felt comfort at the memory, mingling with regret at how bitter it had all turned out. “He said, ‘You’d better grow comfortable with glitter, then. It appears she owns a lot of it.’”

Tatianna laughed—that light, carefree one she’d had since they were children. The kind that had been so rare in Clare’s home with the pain her mother caused, she’d grown addicted to that laughter. Clare had taken every bit of her disapproval as a challenge to change her mother’s mind. And failed at every turn.

Tatianna’s laughter brought her back. How had Clare gone without it for so long? “Oh, he would say that. A romantic, that one.”

Suddenly, the door collapsed inward with a loud crash, and both women leaped away from the splintering wood.

“Damn it, Trystan!” Tatianna screeched. “Have you never heard of a doorknob, you— Oh gods, Evie! What happened?” Tatianna rushed to clean off the table where she’d been treating Keeley as Trystan carried his apprentice through the shattered door and placed her gently down.

“Someone broke into the manor,” he rasped, face stoic, eyes solemnly staring at the blood on Evie’s face. “She was attacked.”

Clare grabbed her older brother’s arm, gently tugging him away. “Let Tatianna take care of her, Trystan.”

“Make sure she’s still breathing,” Trystan pressed, the pain echoing in his voice. Clare imagined that pain was made exponentially worse by how similar this was to what Trystan had seen when he found Evie lifeless in the Gleaming Palace. “Make sure she’s okay, Tatianna. Please.”

Tatianna’s glowing hands roamed over Evie’s body, assessing as she went. “A few bruises, sprained wrist, and it looks like she has a concussion, but her skull isn’t cracked.”

“I—I’ve got a hard head,” Evie muttered, opening her eyes with a hint of amusement.

Tatianna brushed stray curls away from Evie’s face, dabbing at the dried blood with a damp cloth. “That you do, little friend. I’ll mix something up for the pain, and then I should have you fixed up in just a moment.”

“I can make the mixture. I know the plants well,” Clare offered, already starting for the table. Tatianna nodded, returning her attention to Evie, who continued her jokes until the tension in the room eased.

Clare grabbed several ingredients and began crushing them together, so distracted she didn’t see her brother approach. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “For helping.”

Kingsley hopped between them, holding up a sign that said…

Nothing?

Not the word. It was simply blank.

Trystan frowned, deeper than he already had been, and picked up the sign, staring down at his old friend. “Is this meant to be a metaphor, Kingsley?”

His gold crown tilted, but the frog prince did nothing to respond except ribbit.

There was a pinch of worry forming an uncomfortable knot in her chest as she stared down at Kingsley, distractedly handing off the mixture she’d produced to Tatianna. “Maybe he’s feeling lazy today.”

Pushing his hair out of his face, Trystan made for the door. “How long will it take for you to heal her, Tatianna?”

“A half hour, maybe?”

“Good. When you’re through, come find me. I’m calling a meeting.”

Evie sat up, ignoring Tatianna’s protests. “I’m coming, too.”

Trystan paused at the door, one hand on the doorframe, but didn’t turn around as he said, “If you must.”

And then he was gone.

Clare was a victim of her mother’s machinations, it was true, but Trystan had been their mother’s choice for the brunt of her antipathy. And Clare was still ashamed that there was a time she’d believed he deserved it.

Sniffing, Clare handed Tatianna another batch of her plant mixture for Evie’s head and thought of all the things she hadn’t said.

Yes, Clare Maverine had made many mistakes in her life.

And she had a very terrible feeling she hadn’t made the worst of them.

Yet.