Page 48 of Apprentice to the Villain

“I was checking on the female guvre, but it’s difficult for me to get close without the male freaking out and getting violent.” The dragon trainer hesitated, smirking at Trystan before saying, “You know what that’s like, don’t you, boss?”

Trystan started forward, and Sage grabbed the back of his shirt, digging in her heels. “Don’t,” she warned. “Are you any closer on a timeline for when we can expect her to give birth?” she asked Blade.

The dragon trainer sobered almost immediately. “Judging by her already distended stomach and how attentive the male is being—seriously, he won’t let her leave his sight for even a second; it’s quite adorable—it could be anywhere from two weeks to six months before their let arrives.”

Trystan rubbed at his temples. “That hardly helps at all.”

Blade nodded, looking chastised. “I’m sorry, sir. Truly. I’ll keep looking. You can count on me.”

Trystan wet his lips and sighed. He was developing an irritating level of sympathy for those around him, and Blade was no exception. He took pity on the man, sensing the dragon trainer’s sincerity. He used to hate sincerity—it never seemed real—but Blade always came across as very determined to prove himself, to please. It reminded Trystan a little of himself, long ago, and the spike of sympathy turned into a spear.

“Don’t fret, Gushiken. I hardly have time to hire someone in your stead. Just continue searching and come to me as soon asyou find something useful.”

Blade looked at him suspiciously and then glanced around like he was checking for an ambush. “Oh, thank you, sir. I will do that.” He spun on his heel, waving. “Good night! You two have fun.”

The boss picked up another pencil, but Sage had dashed in front of him. “Knock it off.”

Trystan sighed, placing it her waiting palm. “He’s impertinent.”

“So am I,” she said gravely.

“Well, that I know,” Trystan said, grinning despite himself. He watched as Sage’s eyes flickered right to his dimple. “The Heart Village is accessible by horseback. We’ll leave at the week’s end.”

“Why not tomorrow?” She frowned. “Isn’t time of the essence?”

He spun her toward the door, holding it open for her. “I have things I need to look into tomorrow.”

She huffed. “Like why you feel the need to have a thousand pillows on your bed?”

“Out!”

She hurried out of his bedchamber, but he could hear her giggle echo down the corridor. A hall he’d walked many times, once lonely and cold. Shutting the door against the chill, he walked over to the armoire to return the blanket, but as soon as he opened it, another scrap of fabric fell into his hands. A scarf. Wool that had been gently cleaned of any remnants of blood and kept safely tucked away.

“For the blood, Your Evilness.”

Gripping it hard in his fist, he shoved away the memory of his first meeting with Sage, along with any other feelings that came with it. His only goal now was to destroy Benedict—and he’d take down anyone or anything that got in his way.

Chapter 28

Gideon

Gideon Sage had made several observations in his short time in Massacre Manor. The first was that The Villain’s office was run entirely different from the Valiant Guard’s. The Villain himself seemed to know everyone by name, what their job function was—almost like hecared.And unlike Benedict, the man didn’t walk around with a politician’s grin; instead, his face seemed stuck in a permanent scowl.

Unless, of course, Gideon’s sister was anywhere within his vicinity. That was Gideon’s second observation.

Gideon turned to address the two Malevolent Guards trailing behind him. “Might I wander the office without you two tailing me?”

“No, sir knight.” Keeley had golden skin that matched her honey-blond hair. She looked like the sun…that had descended to fry him to a crisp. She and Min had been his near-constant companions since his arrival, barring him from doing anything heroic. That was probably frowned upon here.

Min was shorter in stature, with raven hair cropped close to her head that emphasized the soft points of her face. It was obvious she was lethal, but she was also kind, which Gideon appreciated, since it seemed Keeley was liable to run him through with a knife at any moment.

Unless Evie did it first.

His sister flew away from her white wooden desk when she spotted him, eyes wide, her curls pinned away from her face, her anger perfectly visible. “Gideon! What in the deadlands are you doing out of your room again? Lyssa is up here!”

Gideon gave her a questioning look. “Should she be?”

“Fool,” Keeley hissed behind him.