Page 5 of Adversary to the Villain

Thomas? It was Thomas? That scrawny little—

“You knew of this?” he accused.

“The remarks he made to her were so inappropriate, everyone heard of it,” Ms. Erring said sardonically, folding her arms. “If he’d spoken to me like that, I would’ve driven my favorite letter opener through his heart.”

Three things occurred to him at once. The first being that Sage had underplayed the encounter, the second that Ms. Erring was far more ruthless than he gave her credit for, and the last… Well.

For the first time, he was eager for the week’s end to start.

He stalked from the room, hearing Ms. Erring’s voice questioning behind him, “Where are you going?”

He let his power swarm around him in dark waves, his voice a mere rasp in the quiet of the now-empty office.

“To lay down the tarp.”

It was a mistake, in any circumstance, to make an adversary of The Villain.

Chapter 1

Evie

Evie Sage pointed her dagger at Trystan Maverine’s throat.

“Don’t leave me in suspense, Evangelina.”

It was a wonder that this moment could shock her. Not when the night before, she’d had her identity stripped away, replaced with a new one. She ought to be shocked by her parents’ actions, the masterminds in her villain origin story.

Or rather, her lack of one.

Her destiny had been set. Rennedawn’s storybook prophecy had passed her the role, and her parents had used magic and manipulation…to pass it on to someone else.

The very person who was pushing himself against her blade.

Breathing heavily in the darkened study deep in Massacre Manor, Evie allowed her eyes to flutter open and find Trystan in her dream-induced haze.

His low voice rumbled in the dimness of a room she had never entered before, one she’d wandered into moments ago by mistake. “It’ll be quicker if you hit the artery.” He grabbed her wrist and tugged her closer, holding her hand more firmly to the skin of his neck.

Heart racing, she swallowed, watching his dark eyes in the dim candlelight and early-dawn glow as they homed in on her lips. A large hand closed tightly around her wrist with no apparent intention of letting go, and the other gripped her hip, tugging her close enough to see the smile tilting up his lips.

“That’s not funny,” she breathed with indignation, hoping he didn’t hear the wanting in her voice, the undeniable need to collapse into his arms like the fair princess in one of her books.

Evie Sage was no fair princess.

By point of fact, that role would technically be delegated to the man in front of her. She struggled not to choke at the image of him wearing a tiara.

“Let me go,” she ordered, moving her wrist, attempting to back away, but he held her firmly.

“Not on your life.” He spoke evenly, then released her so quickly she nearly lost her footing, only catching herself against one of the dusty bookcases.

“You startled me,” she whispered by way of explanation, placing her dagger back at her belt. The one she’d tied about her waist before sneaking out of her bedchamber.

She couldn’t bring herself to return to the office, not with the memories of Benedict tainting her sole remaining place of refuge. The casual way the king had destroyed her sense of self.

Trystan was always supposed to be the true prince of the prophecy. And you, my dear, were always supposed to be The Villain.

The dark magic once in Trystan’s possession now moved and shifted beneath her skin, climbing to the surface, uncomfortably asking to be used, to be utilized by the person who was meant to wield it from the start. It swirled about her feet, playing with the ties at the top of her slippers, brushing the bottom of her nightgown.

“Apologies,” he murmured, kneeling at the fire in the grate. He pushed at the logs with the poker, and flames danced across his face. “I didn’t hear you come in.”