Page 9 of Accomplice to the Villain

“I didn’t threaten. I warned,” she corrected, walking over to the shatteredwantedportrait, picking up the remnants of The Villain’s false depiction that had once brought her such joy. “Would you rather I announce to them that your magic’s out of control anytime you get too close to me? While I’m at it, I could mention that the entirety of Rennedawn’s magic is going wonky because the prophecy is nowhere near complete. Oh! Or I could tell them that if we fail to complete it ourselves, King Benedict will have ultimate power over the kingdom, probably forever. That ought to make for good break-room conversation.”

His eyes flashed dangerously, and she regretted her words as soon as she saw their impact. His magic edged closer to her again, the mist dancing around her feet until she felt the cool slide of it against the skin of her ankles. It was dangerous magic, it was what made her boss “The Villain” in the first place, but she couldn’t help but find the dark power delightful. Comforting, even. Like a home she’d never known.

“Sage. I think you should return to your new office. Since I’m so”—he swallowed—“out of control.”

Her heart softened, and her soul felt as tattered as the ruined portrait between her fingers. “You know I did not mean it that way,” she said softly.

“Go.”

The word was hard and cold. Nothing of the man she’d come to love, no hint of him behind the walls he was rebuilding around himself.

She looked down at the flyer, clutched between fingers still pinkened with the remnants of her morning skirmish, and pulled it to her chest. Sniffing and straightening her shoulders, she walked toward where he sat and bent down to eye level. “No.”

His head shot up, and his lips parted, a sheen over his black eyes. “Sage—”

“Ms. Sage! Mr. Villain!” One of the newer interns burst through the door, panting wildly, arms waving. “It’s horrible!”

The Villain shot to his feet, exchanging a glance with Evie while they braced for the worst.

“We found the ghost!”

Chapter 4

Evie

“I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts,” Evie said as they took long strides down to the office kitchens, where the apparent “ghost” was residing.

“I don’t,” her boss grumbled.

“Then why are you coming with me?” she asked, eyeing him suspiciously as they rounded the corner, a flash of an open window gifting them wisps of warm breeze and the sweet smell of green grass.

“Because on the off chance thereisa spirit haunting my kitchen, I hardly want you to be its first impression of the living. You’ll scare it.”

Evie huffed and shoved at his shoulder. His magic aided her and formed a line around his feet until he was stumbling headlong into the wall. “Sage!”

She shrugged innocently, spinning around and walking backward through the kitchen entryway, addressing him with wide eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did Iscareyou?”

When Evie turned, however, she did in fact scream—in surprise. “Gods! Mama, what are you doing?”

Nura Sage stood before them, moaning over the kitchen sink with a cloth wrapped around her finger, buried in one of Edwin’s giant aprons. The garment was so overlong on her that she did appear spirit-like—haunting the oven, apparently. Her mother brushed her curls back behind her ears with one hand, her golden skin glistening with sweat. “I heard your office chef was taking a day off, so I thought I’d make one of your favorite desserts. But I think I was overly ambitious. I haven’t used an oven since Gideon’s fifteenth birthday.” Her mother smiled sheepishly. “I burned myself, and I’m afraid my moaning and hunching over may have frightened a few of your workers. I’d forgotten how clumsy I am in the kitchen.”

“That’s just as well, Mistress Sage,” her boss said dryly beside her. “Your daughter appears to be clumsy everywhere else.”

Evie glared at him, outraged. “I’m not the one who just tripped over my own magic.”

“Oh my,” Nura said quietly. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble. Shall I excuse myself?”

“No!” they both yelled, proceeding to glare at each other again. Ironically, as much as she loved them both, there were two people in the world Evie would not want to be alone with, and both of them stood before her. At least not right now, when there were too many feelings tied up in every direction. She wanted to retain her calm claim to power, and she could not do that with Trystan when she felt a little like she might strangle him.

And Evie’s mother, well… Her mother’s presence felt a bit like it was stranglingher.

“All right,” Nura said carefully, stepping away from the counter, a serene look upon her face. The calm woman before Evie was a stranger. She’d hoped that the past weeks would reacclimatize her to her mother’s presence as she’d done with Gideon, but this was different than her brother’s return. Granted, it had hurt to have her brother willfully stay away all these years, but it hadn’t started that way. He didn’t always have a choice.

Nura Sage, however, had a choice, and no matter what happy feelings surged at reuniting with her—and as much pain as Evie knew her mother had suffered—she couldn’t help but resent her for forcing Evie to suffer all those years, too. Alone.

Nura smiled at her; it was motherly and nostalgic. It upset Evie’s stomach to look upon it, but she smiled back anyway, praying her mother still couldn’t tell the difference between her sincere one and the false one. “Perhaps you could stay, then, Evie? If Trystan must return to work? We could attempt to salvage this dough together.”

Nura was so hopeful, and every inch of Evie’s soul was screaming at her to comply, to be agreeable, because surely she’d avoided this long enough. The past two weeks, she’d only seen Nura when she was also with Gideon or on the very rare occasion that Lyssa spoke with their mother. It wasn’t that Evie wasn’t grateful for her mother’s safety or the newness of Nura’s emotional stability. It was that she couldn’t trust it.