Page 22 of Apprentice to the Villain

His fists were clenched at his sides. The dark cellar was making him agitated and jittery. The sight of the bars sent him back, back to the cell he’d sat in for days with no hope. It was likely why his patience was so frayed—well, that and the worst night’s sleep of his life. He’d ordered everyone to bed upon their return, despite Sage’s protests. She’d laid a hand against his arm, an indecipherable look in her eyes, and asked if he wanted to talk. He’d had to leave before he did something drastic, like drag her to bed with him to do much more than talk. In the morning, he’d figured, his head would be clear and he’d see reason again.

But morning had come swiftly, and not only was he still exhausted, he was also spitting mad.

“I don’t care if it’s your fault or the fault of a celestial god. If the female gives birth to her baby trapped in our cell, we’re doomed,” he yelled.

“A baby guvre is called a let,” Gushiken instructed, then his amber eyes went round, and he stopped with another piece of raw meat in hand. “You think keeping the let will start another Mystic Illness?”

Trystan shook his head darkly. “No. I think whatever vengeance Fate would reap on behalf of its young…would be something far worse.”

The firelight from the torches crackled in time with Blade’s wince as he tossed another beef slab in between the bars. “I sure missed your foreboding speeches, sir; my nightmares didn’t have nearly as much fodder while you were away.”

Trystan rolled his eyes again. “Very amusing.”

“We should just let them go if you’re so worried.”

Trystan had considered the option, but it couldn’t be risked. Not when the Valiant Guards were likely tearing through Hickory Forest, searching high and low for Massacre Manor, for the guvres, for Sage. The manor at least was cloaked in an impenetrable ward, but if they set the guvres free, they’d be sitting ducks.

“That would be handing Benedict exactly what he wants, and I would rather rip my own heart out.” Running a hand through his hair, he nearly tugged out the strands. “How long is a guvre’s gestational period?”

Gushiken chuckled nervously. “Um…”

Trystan’s head felt like it was going to pop off. “You don’t know?” he growled.

“Yet,”Blade corrected with an easygoing grin that made it difficult for Trystan to keep hold of his anger.

Kingsley appeared as if summoned, crown reaffixed to his head as he leaped in front of Blade like an amphibious shield. Trystan lifted a brow at his old friend’s blank gold stare, then sighed. “Figure it out, Gushiken. Or I’m finding another ‘expert.’”

Kingsley held up a sign.Mean.

Trystan nodded at the frog. “Thank you. I needed that.” The small animal shook his head hopelessly.

Blade chuckled, scooping up Kingsley, placing him on his shoulder, and leaning them both back against the wall with his arms folded. “So, once we have a timeline for this detonating bomb”—he nodded toward the female—“then what?”

A shiver ran down Trystan’s spine. “Then I’ll know how much time I have to destroy any hope of Benedict fulfilling Rennedawn’s little storybook prophecy.”

Blade’s brows shot toward the ceiling. “So that wasn’t just for show? The king was being serious? I thoughtRennedawn’s Storywas just a tale to keep kids from misbehaving. My father used it as a threat to stop me from stealing cookies after dinner. Told me that Rennedawn’s storybook would steal all the magic in the land if I kept being so greedy. I always considered it a bit dark for a children’s story, but I never thought it was actually real.”

Rennedawn’s Storywas an extremely rare text that had been mythologized for years, so long fizzled out and warped that much of the public had never even heard of it. Those who had chalked the tale up to a benign way of keeping children in line, like Gushiken’s father.

It seemed the darkest tales held the harshest truths.

He himself had thought it false, too, until he was trapped in the dark these past days and recounting his time with Benedict, how obsessive the king had become with the inner workings of magic. How he’d had Trystan out searching for people and animals with unnamed purpose, back when he was Benedict’s apprentice.How his guards had recently recounted to him whispers of the fable spreading throughout the kingdom, though he hadn’t given it any merit then. How the guvres were a piece of Fate—and then Evie’s mother’s erratic power had all along been…starlight magic. The king had told him a decade ago about finally having a user of starlight magic in the kingdom and how much it would help his cause. Trystan hadn’t known then that it was Evie’s mother. If he had, perhaps he could’ve stopped it… Perhaps he could’ve saved Sage the pain of losing everything in one fell swoop.

He heaved a world-weary sigh before answering Blade’s lingering question. “It’s real. Or at least real enough that Benedict is dangerously obsessed with it. And though the loss of magic isn’t ideal, Benedict enacting theRennedawn’s Storyprophecy isn’t ideal, either.”

Blade rubbed at his chin. “Why? We don’t want the magic to die. Why not just let him do it?”

“Well, for one thing, it would require him to use Sage’s mother in some way, and for another, we don’t know what kind of power Benedict would gain from reaping from Fate and fulfilling a tale supposedly crafted by the gods.”

Bladetsked. “So we’re damned if we do and damned if we don’t, then?”

Trystan frowned at the guvres’ meat-munching forms. “I never should’ve removed that fucking wall.”

Blade gave the creatures a crooked smile. “Oh, come now, sir. There are some beings you simply cannot keep apart; they’ll always find their way back to each other.” The dragon trainer’s eyes landed on him meaningfully. “You should know this better than anyone.”

The statement triggered panic—panic that Blade or anyone else might have caught on to the affection plaguing him for the past six months. Not only was it inconvenient, it was dangerous—hismagic hadn’t felt normal since Sage laid eyes upon it last night, and he could hardly afford unruly magic. Not when he was so close to destroying Benedict, and especially not now that Trystan suspected Benedict’s plans were far more nefarious than the king would have Rennedawn believe.

Curling his lip in disgust, Trystan replied, “I don’t know what you’re referring to. Sage and I are hardly comparable to a mated pair, Mr. Gushiken. She is my assistant; wemustspend an inordinate amount of time together. Further, I am not trying to procreate with Sage.”