Page 32 of Accomplice to the Villain

So he’d let Trystan believe it had been a fluke, a mistake.

And he flopped back onto his stomach, feeling what he now knew of the sun’s touch, all the while aware that what had just happened to him in the meeting…

Had happened before.

Chapter 16

Becky

Rebecka Erring allowed the raven to put the scroll of paper summoning her brother in its mouth, and the bird held it for approximately two seconds before it spied crumbs on the floor and abandoned the missive to dive beak-first for them.

Becky sighed, rubbing her temples, and followed the trail of crumbs all the way to exactly where she suspected the little girl would be: hiding under the kitchen’s wooden table with several cookies shoved in her mouth. “I’m trying to send a letter, and the raven is pecking for your leftovers, you little gremlin. Do you care nothing for cavities?” Becky huffed.

Lyssa laughed, crawling out from under the table with chocolate all over her face. “Lord Trystan eats sweets all day long in his office, and he has perfect teeth, Ms. Erring!” Lyssa wiped her chocolate-covered hands against her soft green floral dress, and Becky winced at the stains already forming on the fabric.

Becky folded her arms, her turquoise dress a far cry from the neutral attire she normally donned, but after the confrontation with her family at the Fortis Family Fortress, she’d decided that keeping her distance from those who had wronged her didn’t mean she had to distance herself from the things she enjoyed. When they left the fortress, Becky had resolved to try for a new sense of freedom, as free as the pint-size optimist who seemed to cling to her like a barnacle.

Even if said pint-size optimist was attempting to rot all the teeth from her mouth.

“That’s because he’s The Villain,” Becky reasoned. “Evil makes you…immune to cavities.” It sounded like an excuse Evie would come up with. Becky grimaced.

Lyssa jumped and clapped her hands. “I’m evil, too! My teeth are safe, then.”

Becky lifted a skeptical brow. “I saw you say hello to a butterfly this morning.”

“Ms. Erring, the butterfly in question said it first, and you told me bad manners was bad workplace culture.”

Damn it.Shehadsaid that. “Having manners and good workplace culture negates evildoing, don’t you think?” Becky volleyed, feeling a little ridiculous at the satisfaction creeping in over winning a debate with a child.

Lyssa pulled a neatly folded piece of paper from her pocket and held it high, reading it aloud. “Lord Trystan’s Rules of Villainy. Number 4: We’re villains, not ill-mannered. Decorum is everything.”

Becky gaped. “He gave you alist?”

Lyssa folded it and carefully put it back in the pocket of her dress. “During teatime.”

Becky needed to go to a quiet room where everything made sense and no one said anything absurd for five to thirty-five minutes. “All right, I give. Get a cavity, but don’t come crying to me.”

“You have my sweet tooth.” The soft voice came from the kitchen entrance, and there stood Nura Sage, looking meek and overly cautious. “It was worse when I was pregnant with you. I wanted nothing but chocolate cake.”

Lyssa stepped closer to Becky, her hand clutching the back of Becky’s skirt. A tenderness Becky never would have thought herself capable of panged around her cautious heart. The HR woman allowed her hand to fall against Lyssa’s shoulder in an attempt at comfort. “I love chocolate cake.” Lyssa said the words with a voice so small it was hardly above a whisper. No evidence of the vibrant energy the little girl had just seconds ago.

Becky sympathized; she, too, tended to shrink in her mother’s presence, but unlike Becky’s mother, Nura stayed at a distance, perhaps to respect the unspoken boundary Lyssa had placed between them. As the older woman stood, fidgeting, Becky couldn’t help but take in the family resemblances.

Nura had the very same curly dark hair as Evie, Lyssa’s dark-brown eyes, and Gideon’s smile. It was as if the woman was an abstract of the three children she’d left behind. Becky wondered how difficult it would be to face all the people you failed every time you looked in the mirror.

But she kept those thoughts tucked away, something telling her that Nura was already punishing herself enough, from the day she left her children to the incident that morning.

She decided the only way forward was an offering of peace. She owed Nura that much after the damage Becky’s mother had done to the woman. “I think there are leftover cookies if you’d like one, Mistress Sage?”

Nura smiled. “Perhaps we could make another dessert?” A soft, lilting accent curled her words beautifully. “The magic specialist Trystan sent for said I might benefit from some distraction to help rebalance my magic. I would love to teach Lyssa of a dish my mother and father—her grandparents—used to make for me when I was a child. If, of course, Mr. Edwin wouldn’t mind me commandeering his kitchen and some ingredients. I should’ve asked before—”

“I’m very protective of the kitchen,” Lyssa interjected, surprising both Becky and Nura. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings when you tried to make that gooey stuff.”

Nura smiled softly, shrugging, a casual gesture that made her loose tunic sleeves flare as if she had wings. “I think it’s perfectly normal to be cautious around me after how I scared you this morning.”

Lyssa’s grip loosened on Becky’s skirt. “You were scared, too. Evie always says people do things they normally wouldn’t when they’re afraid.” Lyssa wrung her fingers nervously. “It’s…okay.”

Nura shook her head, eyes shining. “It’s not, actually. Evie is right—it’s okay to be scared—but it’s not okay to allow my fears to become something that can hurt someone else, anddidhurt someone else, for that matter. Fears are things for me to manage, and no one else can be blamed but myself. I’m so very sorry I almost hurt you, Lyssa.”