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

Kingsley

Alexander Kingsley was confused.

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And perhaps a smidge disoriented.

He’d awoken, startled by the rush of footsteps, to find himself bouncing in Trystan’s hands, then to Tatianna’s office, and then…it was fuzzy, but he was no longer in the healer’s quarters at all. He was sitting atop Evie Sage’s midsection while she slowly moved to sit up.

“Sage!” Trystan yelled, bursting through the back door. “Kingsley!”

Tatianna scurried out next, her pink robe dragging behind her. Birds began their morning greetings, and Alexander tried his best not to be distracted by the sounds so he could understand the scene unfolding before him.

“I’m fine,” Evie assured them, looking down at Alexander, reaching up a finger to straighten his crown. “I can’t get my curls to stay put for more than a few hours. How on earth has this thing survived so long?”

“It’s glued to his head,” Trystan muttered dryly, extending a hand to help her to her feet.

“Is it really?” Evie scrunched her nose, looking down upon him.

Alexander sure hoped not.

“No, Sage.” Trystan was cranky, probably because he was tired. The man had been sleeping terribly lately, and judging by the dark circles under his eyes, last night had been no different.

“Are you hurt?” Tatianna asked, rubbing a hand down Evie’s arm.

Evie shook her head, smiling ruefully. “I think I’ve just become a magnet for trouble lately.”

“Lately?” Trystan questioned.

Evie pushed her tongue into her cheek, looking a bit like she was swallowing words that would unravel him. But instead she ended up stalking back toward where they’d put the stained glass pieces the night before.

Trystan caught up in seconds, and Kingsley hopped along, wondering how he got down here in the first place.

“Were you out all night?” Trystan asked cautiously.

Evie nodded serenely. “I couldn’t sleep. So I finished what we started with Blade.”

Trystan shot out an arm, halting Evie. “Gushiken!” he called.

“With the stained glass window pieces!” Blade yelled from across the yard, hiding behind Fluffy with a large sponge in hand for the dragon’s morning bath. “You know, since you left her to do it by herself.”

Alexander wondered if death wish was one or two words.

“Thank you for that courteous explanation,” Trystan replied sardonically.

“No problem, boss!”

Tatianna snorted, and Alexander marveled at how different his friends were and yet, in some ways, exactly who they’d always been from the time they were children—when their lives had barely begun to intertwine.

Alexander’s father, the king, had been a fair but diligent guide in his son’s education, ensuring he was a master in all things: diplomacy, science, philosophy, magic, an ironic skill for penmanship, and the history of the creation of the continent, including all its kingdoms.

But his mother had worried he was spending too much time in the library and not enough with other children, so off they went one day in search of “fun.” Within the week, he’d met Trystan, Clare, Malcolm, and Tatianna, and his life had been forever altered.

Alexander’s tongue suddenly shot toward a nearby fly. His tiny body jerked at the sudden urge. A new, foreign urge that he’d somehow avoided for the last decade. What was happening? Did frogs go through a second puberty?

Evie ushered them along until they were all standing before the reconstructed window—the one Alexander had spent many hours gazing out of, wondering if this was the only life he’d ever live.

Trystan avoided getting too close to Evie as he leaned down to peer at it. The sun was just brushing the glass as it began to rise, and the light illuminated the two stubborn fools, surrounding them in a radiant glow. As if even the elements were growing impatient at the fight they were putting up to stay apart.

Blade jogged over. “Anything?”

“Not yet,” Tatianna said, leaning her elbow on the dragon trainer’s shoulder. “I suppose it would be insensitive to ask Edwin to fix us a big breakfast after the day he had yesterday?”

Evie held her midsection with a small moan. “Don’t say ‘breakfast.’ My stomach is eating itself.”

“I’ll make breakfast,” Trystan said quickly, thoughtlessly, watching the glass like he was waiting for it to explode.

Evie’s eyes went round. “You’ll make what?”

Trystan shrugged, planting his hands on his waist. “It’s just breakfast, Sage. No cause for alarm.”

Perhaps not alarm, no, but Alexander could see many causes for celebration, considering Trystan had avoided the kitchen since becoming The Villain and now was offering to cook something for the third time in a month.

“I’m just hungry. That’s all,” his friend added.

You aren’t hungry. You are in love, you emotionally stunted fool.

Unfortunately, there was not nearly enough room on a sign for Alexander to say that.

And no time to, as the sun illuminated the pieces of glass head-on, shining against them so brightly the group shaded their eyes. Alexander mimicked the gesture. For a moment, all he could feel was a burning sensation every time he blinked, hopping backward until the rays weren’t so imposing.

But he stopped when there was a collective gasp among the group.

“Tatianna. Do you have your magnifying instrument with you?” Trystan asked, leaning down, voice tinged with wonder.

The healer wordlessly handed it over, and when Alexander hopped atop Trystan’s shoulder, he, too, could see that the once drab-looking book etched into the glass had been transformed by the sunlight into a streak of color, the pages turning silver with a single word etched into the top.

Rennedawn.

And then the window came alive and the book flipped open.noveldrama

“Don’t touch it!” Trystan ordered as Blade reached for it in wonder.

“What does it say?” Evie asked, squinting to make out the words that were almost too small to read.

Trystan held the magnifying device over it and read the words aloud.

At the start of the world, the magical gods knew

That color would bleed and all would undo.

So to save this place they knew humans would break

They enlisted the tools of Destiny and Fate.

The beauty of stars that gleam at night

The children of Fate, created in light

And the magic that balances all dreamed of

Is the key to saving the world in true love.

The person who rescues the magical lands

Will take this Fate’s youngling well in hand.

When luck and starlight must fall together,

The land will belong to you forever.

But beware the unmasked Villain

And their Malevolent dark—

For nothing is more dangerous

Than a blackened good heart.

And when the tides turn

All will be as it was

The heart of the true prince

Will save his fated love.

Where sunlight beams unvarnished

Rennedawn’s magic will begin mending.

Evil will fall, kingdoms will rise.

Heed this prophecy and all of Rennedawn

Will have its happy ending.

Silence fell among the group, the only sounds the chirping of birds and the swaying of tree branches.

Blade broke it first. “Do prophecies have to rhyme? Or do the gods just have a sick sense of humor?”

“It doesn’t even follow a consistent rhyme scheme. What is this sentence structure… Good grief. Does that mean anything?” Tatianna wondered.

Evie pressed her fingers to her temples. “Starlight magic, the guvre’s youngling, the unmasked villain, and…the heart of the true prince, saving his fated love.”

All at once, everyone’s eyes fell upon Alexander.

And he was once again confused.

“The fourth piece of the prophecy,” Trystan said, looking forlorn and cold, “is Kingsley.”