Page 157 of Adversary to the Villain

But behind the tree she stayed when the Valiant Guards approached and asked after her whereabouts.

His eyes did not find her, but his jaw set, his hands clenching at his sides when he nodded to them with the deference a loyal prince would. “She escaped after dispatching Meenka.”

“Shall we continue our search, Your Highness?” a low voice inquired.

“No,” Prince Trystan replied immediately. “No, let us return with my father’s cargo.”

Evie clapped a palm over her mouth. Because his father’s cargo was already on its way to Massacre Manor in the hands of her Malevolent Guard.

The trotting of horses signaled that she was alone once again, free to return to her home with her spoils. But the tug she felt in the direction of the man now riding off toward the castle, peering over his shoulder one last time toward the trees where she hid like he could not believe she truly existed, made her giddy. Genuinely so. Not an easy feat these days.

Evie stumbled out, back to the dirt path, trying to ignore the clench in her chest when he finally disappeared across the tree line. It was only then that she felt the weight of something in her hand. Something he must have slipped to her before he shoved her away.

A key.

It was white. With purple flowers.

A loudwhooshand flap of wings made her smile before she could even see who it was.

“There you are, Fergus.” When she looked up, the guvre who had remained in her care since Benedict took hold of the animal’s family landed with athud, his rainbow scales a most welcome sight after her near capture. Patting his snout, she flitted her eyes over the mysterious scar on her dear friend’s belly. “Shall we go home?” The animal let out a hum before shooting for the skies.

And the whole way to Massacre Manor, she didn’t stop looking at the white key in her palm.

Evie smiled down at it like it was a precious gift and privately, patiently, couldn’t wait.

For The Villainess and Prince Trystan to meet once again.

The Beginning

of the End.

Until weall…meet again.

Epilogue

Winnifred

Two weeks prior

Before the curse

Winnifred had few desires in life.

She wanted a warm bed to sleep in.

Food in the morning, afternoon, and evening.

Perhaps a touch of human interaction.

And to be treated if not kindly, then at least cordially.

Three out of the four desires was a win by anyone’s standard. When she’d returned to Mistress Maverine, the older woman had appeared surprised. The dark hollows under her eyes had deepened upon the death of her beloved husband. Arthur Maverine had traveled for much of Winnifred’s employ in the Maverine household, but she still knew that he was the family’s source of kindness and goodness.

It appeared that when he died, all the kindness had gone with him. Mistress Maverine sneered now at her shoddy work of polishing the silver. “My husband’s funeral turned into a spectacle for my wretched children. Must I suffer your insubordination, too?”

Winnifred had been too distracted by thoughts of the people she’d met. Of what might befall them.

She had no home. No family. No skills other than the ones Amara Maverine instilled in her at the age of twelve. Her life had been a series of making mistakes in her work, or socially, or magically.