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

The Villain

This was a fucking mistake.

But it was too late to turn back.

Trystan tried to think of what it would feel like when he completed the prophecy before Benedict, when he stole the king’s precious kingdom right out from under him. When he could watch all those who revered their ruler weep into their hands as they witnessed their hero fall into nothingness.noveldrama

Yes, revenge was enough to keep him warm at night. Despite his constant dreams about Sage and her soft curves pressed against the hard parts of him. The memory of her body in the sheer nightgown revisiting him nightly like a prayer.

Or a godsdamned demon.

They rode through Hickory Forest, taking special care to ensure no one was following them, with several Malevolent Guards circling the perimeter of the manor. It was a quiet trip, the only sound the horses’ hooves and Trystan’s insistent heartbeat, pounding out a rhythm that felt suspiciously like Mis-take. Mis-take.

Until a large-winged animal swooped between him and Sage, making her squeal and Trystan yelp.

“Oh, wonderful!” Tatianna threw her hands over her head, the large animal swooping down mere inches from the healer. “Bats.”

The cove where the consultant lived was not very far from the manor, but regardless, they’d had to take several excruciatingly long paths to ensure none of the king’s men had followed. Trystan was relieved when they finally saw the shimmering waterfall ahead, and the party dismounted from their horses, taking the rest of the journey on foot.

The horses let out a gruff whine, sensing the formidable presence of magic in the cove’s falling water. A vibrant rainbow shimmered above it. “Don’t you worry, big guy. I’ll protect you.” Sage laughed softly, patting her horse’s head, the words laced with a joy Trystan didn’t think he’d felt until he met her.

It was horrible.

Kingsley hopped over, holding a sign with his toes. Trystan subtly loosened his fingers from their tight grip, dropping tiny pieces of chalk in the grass for the frog to use. It was irritating having to drag the tools along, but if Kingsley continued his stowaway tendencies, Trystan wasn’t so heartless as to leave the frog with no way to communicate.

“What are you doing?” Sage narrowed her eyes at him, and he jumped like he’d been caught thieving the crown jewels instead of committing an act of kindness on purpose.

That would be embarrassing.

“I’m looking for the Curse Consultant’s sigil to summon him,” Trystan explained, scanning the ground for any signs of a sword outline.

When he looked up again, Sage’s eyes were narrowed on him. “Are you planning on sacrificing me or something? Because if so, I have objections.” She gestured to her trousers, the ones that clung to her thighs. He allowed himself two seconds to admire the shape and remember how good they’d felt gripped in his hands.

And then those two seconds were over and he mentally splashed ice water over his head.

“Because of your…pants?” he asked, hoping his flat tone would hide his curiosity about the answer.

“No, Mr. Literal. Because if I’d known I was going to be sacrificed today, I wouldn’t have worn such a boring outfit.”

As if any of her outfits could be described as such. She regularly wore colors of the rainbow not yet discovered by the public.

“Sage, you are wearing a corset that has a meadow landscape painted on it. If you’re drab, then I’m a corpse.”

She patted his arm. “That’s not very kind to the corpses.”

He gave a sardonic lift of his brow and folded his arms. “All because I don’t play into frivolities?”

Something shuttered in Sage’s face, and he regretted the words immediately when she said with a sudden seriousness, “I think I’ve more than earned the right to frivolities. I don’t care what anyone thinks about it.”

Trystan was in a constant state of surprise at his apprentice—but he knew her well enough to know that at one point in time, someone—or several someones, now including him—had made Sage feel like there was something wrong with her colorful personality. It made him want to find every person who had made her feel less than remarkable and tear their eyelids off so they could get a better look at her.

“Sir?” Sage snapped him out of his meanderings and furrowed her brow adorably. Awful word, but there didn’t seem to be another that fit better. “Are you all right?”

He opened his mouth to speak, to say anything, really, but he was cut off—

By Tatianna’s and Clare’s screams.