Page 132 of Adversary to the Villain

“That was amazing!” Lyssa stared in awe as everyone in the room got a splash of color: Gideon’s simple attire was replaced with a shirt of vibrant blue, and Keeley’s red leathers disappeared beneath softer ivory material trimmed with shimmering gold. And Lyssa’s day dress was gone in favor of one with a large tulle skirt, iridescent and covered in butterflies.

And Blade…looked exactly the same.

When he saw her noticing this, he gave her a sly grin, motioning to his obnoxiously colored vest. “Can’t fix perfection, I’m afraid.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled, faltering when she remembered. “Were you able to send a raven for Roland and Marv to return?”

Blade ran a hand through his hair. “I did just in time to spy the guvres headed right for the kitchens.” Clarke toddled over and nibbled at Blade’s ankles. “Found a snack, did you?” Blade picked him up with a grin.

“Why is it so important they return, Rebecka?” Joseph had a rabid curiosity in his gaze—one that let her know his was a mind that never stopped asking questions. He wanted to seek answers to all he knew. That had once been Rebecka’s mindset, too.

She was unsure when it had changed.

“I thought perhaps if Marv still can’t answer our questions about the traitor without the poison killing him, perhaps he can tell us what he knows of the handkerchief?”

Joseph was silent for a moment before he spoke. “I believe that with the guvres’ venom and Lyssa’s starlight, you can do more than heal the manor’s magic.”

Becky’s heart began to race, overcome with a singular feeling. It was the one that signaled life was about to shift on its axis once more. “How do you know that?” she asked carefully.

Joseph stood up straight with a miraculous smile upon his face. Blissful relief.

“Because when I initially walked into this room, I was suffering from the Mystic Illness,” Joseph stated, and Edwin’s lips parted, his eyes widening.

Joseph scanned his body, noting the colorful robes replacing his previous cloak, a flourish to the sleeves that reminded Rebecka of one of her mother’s old dresses.

But she forgot all of that when Joseph looked up and said with joyful disbelief: “And I think I’ve been cured.”

Chapter 67

Trystan

The predawn fog rolled over the water, the outline of his village coming into view from a distance. Trystan had fallen asleep outside Sage’s door with his hand on the hilt of his blade and awoke remembering that she was sleeping on the other side.

I usually sleep in the nude. In case you were wondering,she’d said to him when they were locked in Lord Fowler’s home.

What a fucking awful time to remember that tidbit. Now the stiffness in his back was nothing compared to the stiffness in…other places.

“Good morning,” Sage said brightly from beside him, still working on tying up a sash at her shirt.

The Valiant Guards have all better be knocked out,he thought darkly. Or he’d see to the task himself.

She fiddled with the last loop on the thick belt cinched at her waist and then bent over to tie her boots, revealing large patches of lovely skin at her collarbones. Her curls were damp.

Had she taken a bath?

The last time she’d done that, he’d nearly given himself a concussion.

“Are you well?” she asked, tilting her head, her sleeve slipping down, taunting him.

He cleared his throat. “I’m distracted. There is a very good chance when we dock, Benedict will be ready to take us into custody with more Valiant Guards. We need to be off the ship before them.”

Sage glanced over the side of the ship with a look of consternation. “Like a tuck-and-roll situation?”

“Something to that effect.”

“Good morning,” Clare said in a singsong voice. Her short dark hair was pulled back by several rose pins, and her dress was flouncy, the bright green woven with gemstones that made her sparkle. “I thought I’d wear Father’s favorite color today.”

Trystan’s own clothes weren’t nearly so sentimental. He wore all black—it was what he always wore—but he carried the yellow handkerchief Sage had given him within his pocket, to represent his father and the love he’d saved. It was the most sentimentality he could offer.