Page 74 of Apprentice to the Villain

His lip twitched. “I am of the belief that art is the world’s most valuable commodity. Please take it. I can’t think of a single thing that would be worth more.”

Edna’s eyes watered, which made him so uncomfortable he looked away, but it was too late. Her hand was grasping his. “Thank you, sir! I wish you every blessing! Every happiness!”

He gently pried his hand from hers, finally finding it in himself to look into the woman’s lovely eyes. She was beautiful. And he knew he’d done a good thing for once. “Thank you, Edna. I wishthe same for you.”

She went back to her table, rounding her seat and ripping a sign down from the wall behind her. It hit the lantern lights, and he saw hiswantedflyer. She winked at him before tearing it up and throwing it to the wind.

I’ll be damned.

With a gallant bow and a crooked grin, he bade the woman farewell and continued his search, not quite as wary of being discovered with the face paint. “Excuse me,” he said to a gangly young man walking by with a large cone of fairy floss. “Do you happen to know of a vendor here who sells portrait frames?”

“You’re thinking of Mr. Gully. He’s right up that walkway! Likes most of the street to himself,” the boy said through a sugar-coated mouth.

Mr. Gully. “Thank you.” Trystan wandered in the direction the boy had pointed, trying to prepare himself to ask questions as inconspicuously as possible.

But when he arrived at the cart, someone was already there.

A young woman with her back turned to him stood at the cart, asking Mr. Gully questions. Her long silver hair cascaded down in flowing waves. Her dress was tight enough that he had a perfect view of the lines of her back. A cut-out dip in her waist revealed a soft patch of skin that made him swallow, and when she turned, he saw them.

Two golden butterfly combs pulling back her hair and a face painted like a rabbit.

He cleared his throat in surprise. The sound caused the woman to turn.

“Oh, I’m sorry, mister. Would you like to cut into the conversation?”

Her red lips were cocky as she propped a hand on her exposed hip.

A man passed, whispering to him in jovial camaraderie. “Aye,she’s a looker, ain’t she? Get in there, son.”

Of course she was a looker.

She was Evie Sage.

Chapter 44

Evie

Evie Sage had been told many times in her life that she was stubborn. And while she was aware of this flaw, she knew it wasn’t her biggest—not by a long shot. No, Evie Sage’s greatest affliction in life wasspite.

She’d spitefully learned to sew perfectly when her brother had called her patchworkhopeless, she’d jumped headfirst into the deep end of the pond when the boys in her class called her a chicken, and she’d found a job working for a villain when the employment market told her it would be impossible. It had occurred to her many times over that “impossible” was merely a word people used to describe limitations they wished for you to adhere to, so you wouldn’t upset the balance.

It was why, in a carefully played coup, she had enlisted Tatianna’s help in procuring a dress and wig—ones that would essentially hide any traces of the woman she’d been when she lived in this village. Strangely, she felt very much that she didn’t need the disguise, as shewasn’tthe same woman.

She was worse—and all the better for it.

“I’ve just learned of the most interesting pieces from Mr. Gully, mister. Would you like to hear about them, too?”

The Villain stood there, hidden from the town’s view in face paint of his own, likely from Edna. Their elderly neighbor had always been so kind about watching Lyssa when Evie was awayat work. Edna liked the company, and Evie liked Edna a great deal. Especially when Evie had arrived that evening and asked for her to disguise her face. Edna had known her immediately and assured her that she was amply protected.

“I would,” the boss answered her inquiry, his voice so low and gritty, her instincts were giving warning flares. “If you please.”

Mr. Gully, seeming to sense the tension, pulled at his collar before stepping away from the cart. “I need to use the facilities, but please browse what you like. I’ll be back promptly for any payments.”

As soon as Mr. Gully was out of view, she was airborne. She yelped and squirmed in the boss’s grip, stopping for the tiniest of seconds to enjoy the view of his annoyingly perfect hindquarters as she was slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Have you lost your mind? Put me down!” she screamed, banging on his back as he lumbered with her down a small stone side path that led between two buildings.

“Quiet!” he ordered, his grip tight on her hips. When they were alone and away from view, he dropped her uncourteously to her feet. She stumbled, righting herself and straightening her wig, chagrined. “What in the deadlands is this?” He gestured to her disguise, to the paint on her face, to her in general.

“A wig,” she grumbled.