Page 135 of Adversary to the Villain

Or from Evie.

Chapter 69

Gideon

Gideon Sage didn’t think he’d ever have cause to see his family’s home again.

Yet there he stood.

In front of the cottage that held some of his best memories, and some of Evie’s worst.

After Lyssa had transformed the kitchens, she’d pulled him aside, twirling prettily in her sparkling tulle dress, and made a request of him.

To find all the stories she’d written and left behind.

He couldn’t deny her. He was tired of letting down his sisters.

There had been no time to consider how he’d react to the place. He assessed it now, his eyes roaming greedily over every detail. The thatched roof that he’d repaired with his father when he was just twelve had held up. The flowers lining the walk that their mother had planted continued to bloom, and the dew still formed on the grass as it always had.

The only thing that appeared to be any different was him.

“So, this is where you grew up?” The voice startled him, and he unsheathed his blade and aimed before he realized who it belonged to. Captain Keeley stared down at the knife with amusement. “You going to run me through, Sir Knight?”

Gideon scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. As if a mere blade would be enough to dispatch you.”

Keeley tilted her head. Her hair was loose—because she wanted to torture him, apparently—and she still was in not her Malevolent leathers but the magical outfit Lyssa had gifted her with. Her shoulders were bared by the gauzy white top, her small waist cinched by a white-and-gold corset that made her lovely skin look radiant with the rising sun as a backdrop.

Gideon had been to all manner of brothels in the kingdom’s capital, as the Valiant Guards were frequent visitors and their most generous patrons. He’d seen many naked women’s bodies without a blush. He’d even had his way with one or two willing participants from said establishments.

There was no reason for him to lose himself over Keeley’s collarbones.

“What would it take?” Keeley asked.

Gideon blinked, disoriented. “What?”

Keeley rubbed her lips together. “To dispatch me. What would it take, do you think?”

“I do not know. An army.” Gideon turned toward the cottage, needing the distraction of childhood trauma.

“So, this is your childhood home,” she said, her breath brushing the back of his neck.

“It appears to be.”

Keeley leaned her elbow on his shoulder, in a gesture so casual another person watching the scene would think they did this every day.

He wished they could. But the bright star he used to wish upon wasn’t there. It would never be there again. His mother.

Gideon’s thoughts grew loud.

You failed your family.

You failed your sisters.

You never should have come back.

And then Keeley shattered them all. “It’s not the abandoned tower I grew up in, but the tulips are nice.”

He was immediately overwhelmed with gratitude. When one descended into the dark of their mind, it was always lovely to have a companion. “I wish I had met you sooner,” he murmured, and her golden eyes widened.