Page 30 of Apprentice to the Villain

“I wouldn’t trust you to do this by yourself.” She flinched.Good.Hate me, his mind begged. It would make it all easier. But he couldn’t resist lightening his barb by adding, “Whatever beasts lay inside would come crawling out, begging to be saved from your prattling.”

She giggled, taking another step back. “Well, then you best come and save them from—”

On a ringing scream, Sage fell.

A drop-off into the darkness. Her shrieks shattered the air as she disappeared. The sentry surged forward, shoving Tatianna and Clare back.

A trick. It was a trap.

He didn’t hesitate anymore.

He dove forward after her, around the immortal sentry, and into the darkness, following the echo of her screams into the nothingness.

And then it was silent.

Chapter 17

Becky

Meanwhile, at the manor…

Rebecka Erring did not like children, and children, she found, did not much like her. Her little brother was the only exception, but most children were not like her little brother. This child in particular must have been malfunctioning. Lyssa Sage had pulled a chair up to her desk, insisting upon helping her organize, and then the little nuisance had learned of her greatest weakness.

Alphabetizing.

“This goes in that pile, Ms. Sage,” Becky said, pointing to the neighboring stack of papers before smoothing out her tight bun.

“Sorry!” Lyssa jumped around as she straightened the stack she was holding and placed them in the opposite pile. “Shall I put them in your desk drawer?” The little girl yanked open the top drawer, and Becky’s set of keys came tumbling out. “Oh, oops!”

She picked them up, handing them over to Becky before waving at the workers passing by. One intern tucked his shirt in when Becky glared at him.

“Why do you have so many keys, Ms. Erring?”

She didn’t have so very many; it was just a matter of organization and safety. “One of the keys is to my cottage, this one is to the cartography closet, this bronze one is to the weapons room, this one to lock the office windows, and thissilver one is to the dungeons belowstairs.” She took the key ring from Lyssa’s grip, but the little girl’s eyes caught on the largest one, plated with gold and etched with a smallF.

“What about this one?” Lyssa blinked, pointing to it while shoving another lemon tart into her mouth.

Becky didn’t talk about that one. “It’s to a place I no longer go.”

Lyssa pulled the key off the ring. “Then should we get rid of it?”

Her pulse sounded in her ears as she ripped the key from Lyssa’s hand. “No!” When she saw the hurt look on the child’s face, the panic was quickly—and irritatingly—replaced by guilt. “I apologize. I do not like when people take liberties with my things.”

Lyssa leaned in, her orange dress swishing about her tiny feet as she whispered, “Evie doesn’t, either. Whenever I touch her stuff, her face gets all red and she looks like an angry tomato.”

Becky resisted the pull of a grin at her lips, biting her tongue to keep from laughing. “I would like to see that.”

The lunch bell tolled, and Becky stood, calling to the workers walking and flying from the room. “Anyone not back at their posts in sixty minutes on the dot will be docked in pay for the week!”

Those who were walking began to run, and Becky felt a hum of satisfaction when she saw a gleam of wonder in Lyssa’s eyes. Seeking validation from a child was not something she wanted to make a habit of; regardless, it made her feel three inches taller.

“Well then, now that that’s cleared up…” She pushed away from her chair and motioned for Lyssa to join her. “Shall we look for your sister’s silly journal?”

Lyssa shook her head, an unreadable emotion passing over the young girl’s face. “Oh, it’s not silly. Our papa gave it to her! She’s probably very worried it’s gone forever.” Her shoe bumped against Becky’s desk. “Sometimes I worry my papa is, too.”

Oh no. No. She was not equipped to deal with a child’s hurtfeelings. She could wring Evie’s neck for putting her in this position. “Your father’s not gone, he’s just…uh…”

“In jail.”