Page 43 of Apprentice to the Villain

She didn’t think. Placing a hand on either side of Trystan’s head, as she did that first time, that first day, she pressed a gentle kiss to his warm cheek. Stubble pricked beneath her lips, and her eyes watered again. Falling back down on her heels, still holding his face, she said, “Thank you.”

His eyes were dark, his brow stuck in a furrow, like he couldn’t believe what she’d just done. Excellent—that made two of them. She waited for him to chastise her for such an unprofessional display.

But he didn’t chastise her, and he didn’t look away from her face.

“Here,” she said, carefully handing back the blue scrap of cloth.

“Keep it,” he said gruffly.

Gideon winced as Keeley came in and practically dragged him away. To his credit, he went willingly.

“I’m going, Captain! I’m going!” Gideon called, trailingmiserably behind her. Her brother—despite his deceptions—was someone she would always love, and if he was someone she loved, he was someone she protected.

“Damien?” Evie’s tone wasn’t playful or teasing or malicious. She delivered her next sentence evenly, calmly. “If you ever threaten my brother again, I will take the dagger at my side and use it to carve out your heart, small as it may be.”

Damien was already halfway to the door when he muttered under his breath,“Two-faced bitch.”She flinched but kept her eyes on the handkerchief in her hands.

When she looked up to her boss again, he was glaring after the retreating guard. “Sage, if you don’t want to continue—”

She interrupted his dismissal. She needed anything but to be coddled. “What I want is to do my job, sir.”

There was a strange gleam in his eyes as he gazed at her for just a second. “Very well,” he said, still looking like he might follow after Damien. It seemed like he was physically rooting himself to the spot beside her to fight the impulse.

“Follow me, Sage. I have an idea.”

Chapter 25

Evie

Someone was dripping water on her face.

It was cold and ran down her cheek, curling along the base of her scalp and the back collar of her shirt. She woke with a start, remembering she had stumbled into the guest room she and Lyssa occupied in the west wing, intending to only lay down for a moment after an exhausting brainstorming session with the boss, where they laid out their plan to use a bit of the stardust on her mother’s letters. They were meant to do it right then and there, but after her head had nearly hit the kitchen’s wood table in exhaustion, the boss had insisted she rest, promising he wouldn’t use the stardust without her. He even sent it along with her, safely in her pocket.

She scanned the room, noting the darkness. She supposed she’d rested far more than a moment.

“Oops.” She winced, rubbing a hand down her face, then noticed Lyssa standing over her with a damp cloth.

“You say funny things when you’re asleep.”

Evie tilted her head, massaging her neck. “How rude of you.” She tapped Lyssa on the nose. “I say funny things when I’m awake as well.” Lyssa crawled into the bed next to her as Evie scanned the room, whistling low. “This room really is absurdly large. Who needs a bedchamber this size?”

“Is it so the nobles have room to do cartwheels?” Lyssa asked.

Evie scoffed. “Obviously.”

Lyssa cracked first, giggling, and moved to sit up against the pillows next to Evie. “You slept for a while.” Her sister had changed into a nightgown, and the clock that stood sentry in the corner read that it was half past ten o’clock.

“I’m sorry I slept so long, Lyss.” She moved to put her arm around her sister, who cuddled in closer. “Did you have fun with Ms. Erring today? That woman’s sharp as a sewing needle. I know you’re missing school, but I was thinking I could hire someone just like Rebecka to be your instructor. They can come to the manor, and you can select whatever subjects you want to learn about! Doesn’t that sound exciting?”

“Evie, was Papa really sick?”

The words washed over Evie like ice water, but her cheeks burned. “Why would you ask me that?” She tried to keep her tone light. “Did someone say something to you?”

The blue corset that had felt movable and comfortable that morning was now pinching into her ribs, making it hard to take a full breath. She stood and grabbed her nightgown, needing a second’s break from her sister’s probing stare.

Lyssa picked at the edge of the sheet, eyes downcast to it. “No. But he did do something bad, right? That night we left home. He tried to hurt you…didn’t he?”

How should Evie answer? How could she tarnish the sweet image her sister still had of the man who had been a constant in her life since the day she was born?