Page 154 of Adversary to the Villain

“How curious. Do you think she escaped?” The voice was smooth and light, the words laced with laughter and something else that was forcing a buoyancy into his chest.

Whirling around, he met the point of a knife at the tip of his nose. And he saw her.

There was much to see.

The flaming hair was nowhere in sight, but a thick bounding of curls cascaded down the woman’s back. Her light eyes were lined with kohl that should’ve made them piercing but only seemed to highlight something soft in them, and her smile was both like theWantedflyers and nothing like them at all.

It took over her whole face, lips so full and red he was certain he’d never seen the like. Her cheekbones were high, her nose a gentle arching slope that was now scrunching up as she observed him. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Inconvenient, that.

Since he was duty bound to kill her.

But when he went for the sword at his belt, every instinct inside him screamed to halt. Every inch of him repelled the thought of doing her harm. What was this? One look at a pretty girl and he forgot all sense of duty. He wasn’t an untried youth—he was a man of nearly thirty.Get it together, man. She’s not that pretty.

Yes she is,his sick, treacherous mind objected, and when he tried to snap himself out of his stupor, he realized he’d said nothing for several long seconds and she remained there, blade pressed to the tip of his nose, a curious tilt to her head as she observed him.

Say something to her, you fool! Anything.

“You were meant to be ugly.” His words came out with the blunt force of a battering ram, and the damnedest thing happened as a result.

She laughed.

The sound was like bells ringing a chord deep in his soul, tugging at something in his mind he could not reach. It bothered him that he couldn’t place it, like he’d heard it before but couldn’t recall where. “Apologies for the disappointment, Your Highness. On the contrary, I heard you were meant to be handsome.”

This needled him. “And you think me…not?” Why in the blazing bloody fuck was he asking her that? His father would have his head if he saw him now.

Her blue eyes softened further, and that grin pulled wider, which didn’t seem possible, but she managed it just fine. “I think you very handsome, actually. I just expected there to be a large crown atop your head and some princely arrogance to keep it in place.”

She was teasing him. He’d always had a poor sense of humor, but even he could see the mirth in her eyes, the unbridled joy she exhibited like stardust. Where was her menacing grin? Where was the evil that should’ve floated around her like the wind did now, brushing her curls aside gently, one falling across her lips?

For the deadlands’ sake, the woman was unequivocally lovely, and how dangerous that was. The reminder of her magic, of the menace she’d wrought, of the knights she’d killed brought him back to himself.

“Remove your dagger, madam,” he growled, shoving her hand away, the contact of her skin against his burning like a brand. Shaking out the limb at his side, he flexed his fingers, trying to rid himself of the tingling sensation that wouldn’t abate. “You’re under arrest for your crimes against the crown.”

She responded by spinning with her arms up, and Trystan began to wonder if the wench had hit her head. “It is a beautiful day, is it not? Lovely for walking.” She brought her hands down, clasping them behind her back. Her dress looked like a black opal, the sleeves falling at her shoulders and ending around her wrists, flowing out like a waterfall. Perfectly poised for someone about to be arrested.

“Lovely for walking, yes. I find it significantly less so forstealing.” He seethed, feeling his jaw clench and his fist, too, when she twirled back to face him, appearing light, amused. Colorful. The word rang somehow discordant in his mind.

She was earnest when she moved closer. Unafraid. Undeterred by the hardness in his expression. “You’re correct, in that I much prefer to steal in the dark, but your father insists on daytime transport. What am I to do?”

He searched for a trace of sarcasm, of menace. He found none. She was being sincere. It flabbergasted him; he found himself at a loss for words.

It mattered not.Sheclearly didn’t. “I mean, of course your father isn’t anticipating what’s convenient for me, becauseIam the one stealing fromhim. It would be odd if hedidaccommodate me. Although it would be more courteous, which princes seem determined to be. If you could make a recommendation for nighttime travel, I’d bemostgrateful.” She had asked this favor like it was reasonable. Like it wasn’t outlandish or absolute lunacy.

“I will not aid and abet your villainy, madam.” He was stern, pleased with himself for not sounding as confounded as he felt.

“I wish you’d stop calling me that.” The woman wrinkled her nose, waving the dagger back and forth in a negating gesture. “It makes me sound so boring.”

No. This woman was not boring. She was out of her mind. That or she was trying to unnerve him, playing the kind maiden to lower his defenses.

She paused, looking bewildered for a moment, and then let out the most pitiful sound he’d ever had the displeasure of listening to. It took a moment for him to realize it was a sneeze, a small squeak of a thing, followed by a sheepish expression.

It was working. How in the gods’ names was this working?

He couldn’t help it; he dug in his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, a gray one. The same one he always carried along with him. Sullenly, he handed it to her, lamenting his foolish gentlemanly compulsions. She took it and let it slide over her fingers, and his body did the most horrid thing.

It responded.

Yanking his hand away from the vicinity of hers, he looked onward for aid. Where in the deadlands were his men? This woman was bewitching him. That had to be it. There was no sense in this pull. None.