Page 97 of Adversary to the Villain

And then her arms were around him and she was sobbing into his neck, pressing a long kiss to his cheek, long enough for him to feel himself choking up, for tears to burn his own eyes.

“When you didn’t wake up, I thought I’d lost you. I ran away so I wouldn’t hurt you, and I ended up doing it anyway—” She put a hand over her mouth to contain a sob, then removed it slowly when it passed. “The first sign of trouble. I’m a hypocrite. I’m a coward. I—” She began to pull away from him.

His arms locked around her, and he grabbed her face between his hands as gently as he could manage. Evie’s hands found his wrists as their foreheads touched. “You’re allowed to run any time you wish, love,” he said smoothly into her ear. “I will be after you before you can blink.”

She pushed away from him with a quirked brow. “I blinked a few thousand times in the last week. And you were nowhere to be found.”

“I thought you needed—” He winced when he saw her eyes widen. “Some space. You deserved some privacy. I didn’t want to—”

“I stabbed you,” she interrupted, blurting the words like they were pinging around the inside of her mouth.

Staring at the healed scar on his shoulder with adorable confusion, she poked it again, and he let her, enjoying the feel of her skin against his own.

“Further, I stabbed you with a magic dagger. I’ve been— Gods, I’ve been a mess over it. I know Tatianna’s healing skills are above par, but this is a different thing entirely.”

“Tatianna didn’t heal me,” Trystan murmured, carefully gauging every small movement on her face. “The wound healed itself. Or rather…I…healed myself.”

Her eyes turned to saucers. “You healed yourself? How?”

“Before I tell you what I’m about to tell you”—he sat up farther with a grunt, ignoring the bump on his head from the falling debris—“I need you to understand something first.”

The way her throat bobbed indicated her unease, the way she tugged her hands back into her chest to keep from touching him. A tragedy. “Yes?”

He grabbed one of those hands and pulled it into his own chest. “What happened was not your fault, and even if it was, that would not have stopped me from being here with you now.”

Her lip wobbled, and her sigh was relieved. “I would understand—”

“It. Was. Not. Your. Fault.” He punctuated the words with his forehead pressed against hers. Gods, he’d missed holding her. The scent of her hair was veiled by smoke, but he breathed it in, kissing her temple. “The dagger was imbued with magic. The same magic that’s been living in your shoulder since Otto Warsen cut you with it.”

He gave her a moment to process before finishing, “The magic that was stolen from me the way yours was from you…was the same magic in your dagger.”

Her lips parted, and her stare went elsewhere to recover from the revelation. “So the magic in the dagger, the same that’s been protecting me…was your healing magic?”

Trystan lightly held her arm, lest his next words knock her arse-first off the bed. “Core Healer magic. I’m a… I’m a Core Healer.”

Well. I think I’ve broken her nonsense wheels, because nothing is spinning behind her eyes right now.

She was blank. Shocked. So shocked she choked and laughed, in endearing and concerning ways. “Your whole purpose on this earth, according to Rennedawn’s storybook…” She wheezed, drying her under eyes with the backs of her hands. “Is to rid the world of me? And instead that same magic has beenprotectingme?”

Her laughter grew louder and mildly hysterical.

Should he panic? It felt like he should panic.

“Do you need something?” he asked, low.

“A timeline that’s not trying to kill me?” Her head fell into his chest, and her shoulders shook, still giggling. Scary, that.

“I’m attempting to tell you that the magic within the dagger was reaching for me and that is why you couldn’t control it. It is in no way your doing, and even if it was…” He waited for her to look at him to finish. “I will not leave. I willneverleave you alone. Is that clear?”

She merely nodded, red tingeing her cheeks.

“Good.” He grinned. “Should only take a hundred or so more times to convince you.”

Sage smiled so hard her eyes squinted, before she collapsed on the bed beside him. It was the first time he bothered to take in his surroundings. It was a small cottage. Or perhaps a shed? He was atop a bed pushed into the corner, with a worn sink and several small pieces of furniture scattered on the other side, a cushion here and a small table there.

“I knew that prudish gentleman was still in there somewhere, waiting to reprimand me.” Sage was bumbling as she brought a full water bowl over, passing him a rag to wipe the soot from his hands and arms. She began to use her own cloth on her face.

He kept his focus on a stubborn soot stain on his arm as he added, “There is nothing gentlemanly about how I wish to reprimand you. Of that, I am certain.”