Page 125 of Adversary to the Villain

“He has two children on board,” Clare corrected pointedly.

Benedict exchanged a look with Griffin. “No. I don’t believe he does.”

Trystan flinched.

“Pass the rolls, Evangelina,” Griffin ordered, seeing the impact his words had on Trystan with a smugness that sent her into a burning rage. She was incapable of cold anger; like all her emotions, it burned brightly, the magic beneath her skin pushing to the surface yet unable to escape, the scar at her shoulder blazing beneath the cloth of her dress. The bit of Trystan’s left-behind magic, seeking to protect him.

She could not use violence. It left her with two choices: use her words…or get creative.

Evie picked up a piece of bread from the basket in front of her…and chucked it at her father’s head, slapping him on the forehead with a hollowthunk.

It was not so much letting the intrusive thoughts win as it was a healthy surrender.

Trystan began choking on whatever he had taken a bite of, watching her the same way she’d once watched a bird fly full force…into a tree.

Griffin, for his part, seemed to be shocked by the wheat-derived projectile, his mouth falling open in a soundless sputter of red-faced anger. Tatianna was stifling laughter with her fingers, leaning against Clare’s shoulder to avoid being seen, and Trystan had recovered enough to hold up a staying hand to Charles, who seemed ready to burst at the uncivilized display.

Evie took another sip of her wine and picked up the butter dish, then asked pleasantly, “Would you like me to pass this as well?”

Griffin didn’t take her bait. Instead, he sat back in his seat with a look of pure loathing on the face she’d known all her life. “I’d prefer you didn’t.”

“I’d prefer you not plant a bomb in my workplace after trying to sell me like a slab of meat. But silly me, you’re a butcher, after all.” Evie saluted him, feeling the warmth of the wine lowering all her inhibitions, all her fear burning away in the pit of her stomach. The setting sun was now hitting the water, and she noticed with a jolt of joy that it was creating a ring of rainbows reflecting off each wave.

It was a beautiful setting for such an ugly scene.

“Has anyone here ever readThe Cunning Corset Society?” Trystan asked, casually taking a bite of the entrée now on his plate.

This time, it was Evie who choked.

Trystan merely continued looking at the food on his plate in careless contemplation, but beneath the table, large, warm fingers twined with Evie’s, the glow of the scar tingling in response.

“And what is that about?” Tatianna smirked, looking tickled by the new topic.

“From what I’ve gleaned so far, it explores a woman’s struggle to find harmony in an unfair world driven by men while falling for a man at the same time. Ultimately a conflict of identity.”

Evie’s mouth fell open, so struck was she by the assessment. Trystan spoke of the book like a student defending a theory to a group of scholars. And the answering blank stares around the table were proof he’d succeeded.

“And…” Tatianna urged, evilly, truly.

Trystan’s face pinched. “Oh. Are you referring to the graphic lovemaking?”

“The graphic what now?” Griffin looked like he was about to explode from anger.

Evie wheezed. “Did you say lovemaking?”

“Blade told me I should avoid the word ‘fornicating’ when speaking in a romantic sense.” He looked at her with obviously feigned concern, explaining carefully, “You’re aware it’s a romance book.”

“I know it’s a romance book!” Evie threw her hands up.

At the same time, Amara slammed her hands down. “I’ve had enough! This is a celebration-of-life dinner, and you all are making a mockery of it!”

“And setting Arthur up to be killed wasn’t?” Clare lifted a skeptical brow.

“Clare!” Tatianna whispered her name in giddy shock. “Brava.”

Amara seethed, her shoulders moving up and down with angry breaths. “I will retire to my cabin now. Good evening.”

“I’ve never seen such unnecessary cruelty,” Lord Charles uttered, digging into his mashed potatoes.