Page 126 of Adversary to the Villain

“That’s not true,” Trystan accused, then lazily sipped on his wine.

Charles paled, cautiously putting down his fork and knife when Trystan stood, rounding the table to face the magical specialist head-on. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come now, Charles. I know it’s been some years, but don’t say you don’t remember the summer we all spent together in my nineteenth year of life.”

Evie froze, the hairs on her arms rising.

King Benedict smiled. “And here I thought you didn’t remember.”

“Remember what?” Clare asked, looking ready to spill orange ink over the entirety of the table.

The kind of ink that melted objects into nothing.

“Charles was my magical specialist, once upon a time. Tell them, Charles,” The Villain encouraged. On the surface, it appeared to be a friendly invitation, but Evie knew the man better than she knew herself, and his eyes were hard chips of black.

Charles swallowed, looking like his dinner was about to make a resurgence. “That was a lifetime ago. I was following orders from my king.”

“To do what, pray tell?” Tatianna drawled, gaze sharp on the two men.

Trystan grabbed Charles by the collar, ignoring the man’s yelp, and the Valiant Guards stood at the threat, hands on their swords.

But Charles did not struggle against Trystan’s hold. Like he knew whatever Trystan would do was deserved.

“Charles was the one who declared me The Villain.”

Chapter 63

Kingsley

Alexander transformed back into a frog before dessert. Thankfully, he was able to excuse himself quickly enough to do it away from prying eyes. And by that time, dinner had deteriorated anyway.

Into a staring contest.

Thus far, Alexander believed Trystan to be winning, but Benedict was putting up a fair fight. “Winnifred?” Benedict called, and over she scurried, a pitcher in hand. She poured the water with her head down, and Alexander felt himself inexplicably bothered. He knew what it was to feel small.

Now, for example. He was using a dinner plate as a seat.

“Believe it or not, we came here to negotiate,” Benedict started, folding his hands and sitting forward. “I believe you have the anchor and Fate’s copy of Rennedawn’s storybook. I would like both. And in return, I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

Alexander pulled out a sign Trystan had slid to him when the transformation took hold. He scribbled in neat letters, then held it up.

Die

“Well said, Kingsley.” Trystan smirked, clapping. “Captain Jones. Is there a plank on board?”

Tatianna’s father winced. “Indeed.”

Griffin Sage looked bored with the conversation but assisted Benedict like the good lapdog he’d become. “I think you’re missing the point. Trystan, if you allow the curse to happen, that will hand you Rennedawn. It will make you the king’s heir, and you will never know any other life.”

“I would never want a life where Sage and I are on opposite sides.”

“You already are.” Benedict’s eyes flashed to Kingsley, the threat in them frightening. “You’re adversaries now whether you admit it or not. But the kingdom won’t survive much more of this dawdling.”

“It’s why we’re fulfilling the prophecy,” Trystan stated.

Benedict sighed. “Don’t you see? Youcannot. The prophecy has already been so far derailed by the meddling we tried to do years ago. All to save a little girl who was hardly worth the trouble.”

Trystan glared, his eyes promising violence the moment it became allowed.