Page 151 of Adversary to the Villain

“Do not speak of my sister,” Evie seethed.

“You mean my mother’s magic. That’s what’s within the flower. Not Lyssa’s. Lyssa has no part of this,” Gideon objected, a shot of fear knocking the breath from his lungs.

King Benedict sighed. “I forget there are just so many secrets we’ve kept over the years. The magic I ‘stole’ from your mother wasn’t hers to begin with. Much like how we used the flower to move Evie’s magic to Trystan, when Lyssa was born, your mother was to take the mantle of the starlight magic in the prophecy so that Lyssa might have a normal life. Turns out, we acquired but a drop.”

Normal life. Sure. Ifnormalincluded severed heads for morning greetings and an ogre for company.

“Why take it back from our mother?” Evie asked. “Why go through all this trouble when the plan was the curse all along?”

“The curse was never the plan,” Destiny hissed, her words creating an ominous air over the field of dandelions. “I weaved the perfect tale, and you all destroyed it with your meddling and yourchoices. What we are about to do is not a curse—it’s a correction. A chance at the events thatshouldhave happened. If some did not look to overturn my will.”

“What of Fate’s will?” Gideon asked, trying to pull the focus from Evie.

“Fate is weak,” Destiny spat. “I am the true storyteller. I decide the path of every being in this world, and I’ll allow it destroyed before I relinquish my control. I’m righting a wrong. Rennedawn will not survive without it.”

Benedict placed the memory flower before them, then turned to Evie, extending a hand. “Come along, Ms. Sage. Meet your true fate. It’s been waiting for you.”

“No,” Trystan ordered, twisting out of the guards’ arms and grabbing the nearest sword. Even under threat, he still threw himself in front of Gideon’s sister. “We’re leaving.”

Benedict’s eyes flicked over his son with distaste. “I imagine you think you can save her. But the life I’m promising is the one you used to dream of, Trystan. Beloved by all the people of Rennedawn, doing good deeds for others. That’s possible in another world. It’s possible if you step aside and allow us to do this. In the world as it stands, your status as The Villain is dwindling, and when it fizzles out, when the people find someone new to hate—as they already have in Evie—what then? What part would you play?”

Maverine’s black eyes grew darker, the sword held tight at his side, the muscles in his shoulders bunched. His jaw clenched tightly as he took one step forward, then another. Eyes not leaving his opponent, Gideon cursed the shackles at his wrists that kept him from assisting.

But then Maverine did something that appeared to shock not only Benedict, but Destiny, too. He smiled wide enough for a dimple to deepen in one cheek. “The part that allows me to remain at her side.”

“Like a lapdog,” Benedict sneered.

No one moved when Trystan Maverine lurched forward, gripping Benedict’s collar and tugging the king close enough to hear his hissed whisper, which echoed throughout the field, rocking more dandelion wisps into the air:

“Like her husband.”

Benedict choked on the word, as did Gideon, but Evie…

Evie’s jaw was hanging so low, Gideon worried it would unhinge and fall off.

“Are you proposing to me…right now?” Evie squeaked, and the rest of the onlookers seemed to avert their eyes in unison.

Maverine raised a brow, gaze not leaving Evie when he tossed Benedict aside like a bag of refuse, stalking for Evie with determined strides. “No. I am merely letting you know that I intend to.”

Evie’s eyes were so round, they were owlish when she blinked up at the man she’d once called her boss.

“Benedict, enough,” Destiny spat. “I have other kingdoms to torment; I have not the time for this. You promised me the curse would be enacted before the day’s end.” Her long braid fell over her shoulder as she moved.

“Fetch the new book,” Benedict ordered, wiping blood from his lip.

And when the book of Rennedawn was placed open on the ground, the blank pages began moving rapidly.

The monster’s hands waved in a circle, creating a cyclone of beaming light splashing to the page as an ancient voice left her lips.“In this story, a new tale to weave, where all will go back to how it’s meant to be.”

“Not the rhyming again,” Evie grumbled, but the levity fell flat when the starlight from the memory flower slipped into the book’s pages, injecting it with light so overwhelming, every person in the field winced, covering their eyes.

“Now you, Gideon.” King Benedict gave him an encouraging smile. “I promise you’ll enjoy what’s on the other side of this. A cure to the poison about to kill you, for one.”

Smoke was coming out of the book now, a smoke that looked nothing like the kind that came from something natural, such as fire. This was magic—this was danger. “I won’t.”

“I only need a touch of your blood,” Benedict relented. “You need not even offer your magic.”

“I said no!” Gideon boomed, shoving the guard holding him down, then charging Benedict—until he felt a sharp twinge and pain lancing at his middle. The sudden shock of it did not fully register until he looked down.