Page 47 of Accomplice to the Villain

“Lately?” Trystan questioned.

Evie pushed her tongue into her cheek, looking a bit like she was swallowing words that would unravel him. But instead she ended up stalking back toward where they’d put the stained glass pieces the night before.

Trystan caught up in seconds, and Kingsley hopped along, wondering how he got down here in the first place.

“Were you out all night?” Trystan asked cautiously.

Evie nodded serenely. “I couldn’t sleep. So I finished what we started with Blade.”

Trystan shot out an arm, halting Evie. “Gushiken!” he called.

“With the stained glass window pieces!” Blade yelled from across the yard, hiding behind Fluffy with a large sponge in hand for the dragon’s morning bath. “You know, since you left her to do it by herself.”

Alexander wondered ifdeath wishwas one or two words.

“Thank you for that courteous explanation,” Trystan replied sardonically.

“No problem, boss!”

Tatianna snorted, and Alexander marveled at how different his friends were and yet, in some ways, exactly who they’d always been from the time they were children—when their lives had barely begun to intertwine.

Alexander’s father, the king, had been a fair but diligent guide in his son’s education, ensuring he was a master in all things: diplomacy, science, philosophy, magic, an ironic skill for penmanship, and the history of the creation of the continent, including all its kingdoms.

But his mother had worried he was spending too much time in the library and not enough with other children, so off they went one day in search of “fun.” Within the week, he’d met Trystan, Clare, Malcolm, and Tatianna, and his life had been forever altered.

Alexander’s tongue suddenly shot toward a nearby fly. His tiny body jerked at the sudden urge. A new, foreign urge that he’d somehow avoided for the last decade. What was happening? Did frogs go through a second puberty?

Evie ushered them along until they were all standing before the reconstructed window—the one Alexander had spent many hours gazing out of, wondering if this was the only life he’d ever live.

Trystan avoided getting too close to Evie as he leaned down to peer at it. The sun was just brushing the glass as it began to rise, and the light illuminated the two stubborn fools, surrounding them in a radiant glow. As if even the elements were growing impatient at the fight they were putting up to stay apart.

Blade jogged over. “Anything?”

“Not yet,” Tatianna said, leaning her elbow on the dragon trainer’s shoulder. “I suppose it would be insensitive to ask Edwin to fix us a big breakfast after the day he had yesterday?”

Evie held her midsection with a small moan. “Don’t say ‘breakfast.’ My stomach is eating itself.”

“I’ll make breakfast,” Trystan said quickly, thoughtlessly, watching the glass like he was waiting for it to explode.

Evie’s eyes went round. “You’ll makewhat?”

Trystan shrugged, planting his hands on his waist. “It’s just breakfast, Sage. No cause for alarm.”

Perhaps not alarm, no, but Alexander could see many causes for celebration, considering Trystan had avoided the kitchen since becoming The Villain and now was offering to cook something for the third time in a month.

“I’m just hungry. That’s all,” his friend added.

You aren’t hungry. You are in love, you emotionally stunted fool.

Unfortunately, there was not nearly enough room on a sign for Alexander to saythat.

And no time to, as the sun illuminated the pieces of glass head-on, shining against them so brightly the group shaded their eyes. Alexander mimicked the gesture. For a moment, all he could feel was a burning sensation every time he blinked, hopping backward until the rays weren’t so imposing.

But he stopped when there was a collective gasp among the group.

“Tatianna. Do you have your magnifying instrument with you?” Trystan asked, leaning down, voice tinged with wonder.

The healer wordlessly handed it over, and when Alexander hopped atop Trystan’s shoulder, he, too, could see that the once drab-looking book etched into the glass had been transformed by the sunlight into a streak of color, the pages turning silver with a single word etched into the top.