Page 71 of Apprentice to the Villain

She turned around and snapped, “What do you want?” and then immediately regretted it. Her anger wasn’t with him. She sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, Blade. I’m not good company when I’m upset. It’s just that I feel so— And he just—”

Blade grinned, taking her gently by the arm. “There are two animals downstairs with a similar affliction. Why don’t we go say hello? It’ll make you feel better.”

Unlikely, but she allowed him to guide her all the way down to the cellars anyway.

Both guvres seemed content. Blade had just fed them, and the male curled his beautiful, colorful body over the female protectively as Evie inched closer to the bars, smiling at them. Wondering quietly to herself why looking at such deep devotion made her chest ache painfully.

“I wonder what it’s like to be happy like that. So content, together with the one you love,” Evie whispered, but the cellar was quiet enough that she might as well have yelled it. She glanced at Blade, but he stared ahead with a half smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Yeah. I wonder that, too. I wonder all the time.”

Evie leaned her head against Blade’s arm, and he glanced down at her. “The boss was unwise for not letting you go, Evie. I’m sorry.”

She didn’t answer, just shrugged before patting his arm in farewell and making her way back up the stairs.

The ache in her chest didn’t waver, but she’d keep it—it was fuel. Her heels clicked off the stone hallway as she strutted forward, comforted by the knowledge that Trystan Maverine was about to find out just how unwise it was.

Chapter 42

The Villain

The pixies were glaring at him.

Every ten minutes on the dot for the last three hours, he’d heard the twinkle of their wings floating past the crack in his door, which he’d left slightly ajar only so he could hear the goings-on in the office. Certainly not because Sage hadn’t spoken to him in three days and he was desperate to hear her voice. Every morning in the days past, she’d enter with a blank expression, placing his cauldron brew as he liked it on his desk, her old, weathered notebook in her hands. The one with sketches of kisses inside. Sketches that made him burn with curiosity, but he couldn’t ask her about them. She was painfully—and unnaturally—silent.

It was a welcome change. Delightful, even. He was rather enjoying it, clenched teeth notwithstanding.

She hadn’t hummed, hadn’t laughed. He hadn’t even seen her pop a vanilla candy in her mouth, and he’d been watching her to the point of absolute embarrassment. He noticed everything. When she got up, when her desk shifted, when she played with a lock of hair, when she fuckingbreathed.

And all he could do was replay her plea all over again.

Please kiss me.

Chivalry wasn’t dead, but it ought to be, with the abysmal situations it put him in.

The memory of Sage’s quiet request was driving him mad. Had she meant it? Was it the stress of the moment and nothing more…? Did she truly want him? Was that why she was so angry now?

Or maybe the anger was solely due to him steamrolling her into remaining at the manor.

“It doesn’t matter,” he grumbled, trying to get a hold of himself.

This was why a romantic entanglement was a mistake, always. It led to all this messiness, or worse yet…feelings. Him hurting her when all he’d desired was her safety.

As his assistant. Nothing more.

Trystan had received a raven that morning—a tip that Sage’s village was having a festival. It was the perfect time to slip in unnoticed, but he couldn’t even rejoice in the victory. He had no one to enjoy it with. Everyone was angry with him.Everyone. His own workers, his own family. Even Rebecka Erring gave him disdainful glances every time she passed him on the floor.

Kingsley, his only remaining ally, sat on his desk, ever the reflection of everything Trystan wasn’t. Kind, good, gallant.

The frog held up a sign, this one reading:Beware.

“I don’t have time to decipher your codes, Kingsley. Beware of what?” Trystan pulled a hand through his disheveled hair. He’d barely slept the last three nights, and it showed. There were shadows under his eyes and an overgrowth on his chin. He rubbed his tired eyes with his hands, leaving them there to block out the light.

“Sir?” Sage’s lilting voice floated in through his cracked door. His hands left his face, and he stood so fast he knocked his chair over. Clumsiness was a trait he’d thought to be completely commandeered by his assistant, but it appeared to be catching.

He picked up his black chair and glared at it. Clearing his throat, he stood up straight, trying to appear unruffled. Andfailing.

“I was wondering if there was anything you needed me to do to help prepare you for your trip intomyvillage.”