Page 72 of Adversary to the Villain

“Hold on—” Evie started.

“Oh, Kingsley! You’re a frog again!” Lyssa interrupted, eyes darting around, fidgeting.

Kingsley hopped toward a basket of his signs, took hold of the chalk, and scribbled down his one word to convey many.

He kicked it off with an old favorite.

Sucks

“That’s enough,” Trystan objected, giving Alexander a pointed look. “Lyssa. What is going on?”

The sound of scrambling footsteps echoed rapidly down the hall. “You’re the one who left the door open, and you’re calling me irresponsible?” Tatianna’s voice rose first, and Becky’s followed.

“Ididn’t leave it open; it got caught on one of your absurdly long scarves.”

“My scarf wasn’t there!” Tatianna replied.

“That’s because Cassandra ate it!” Becky screeched, the pair of them skidding to a halt in front of them. “Shit.” Her eyes moved to Lyssa. “Shoot. I said shoot.”

“Before that, you said shit,” Lyssa muttered, handing a gold coin to Evie.

“Who’s Cassandra?” Malcolm asked curiously. “A beautiful friend of yours, I hope.”

“Cassandra’s a little young for you, Malcolm,” Clare said as she joined them, looking pinched and unhappy. Her resting expression these days. “Wonderful. Everything at the manor went to the deadlands while you were gone. Hope whatever you were doing was worth it.”

Alexander smiled inwardly, finding it more than amusing that a place Clare once swore she’d never step foot in had become a place she clearly desired to protect.

“We were retrieving a key. One that Benedict needs to enact a curse that would replace today’s version of Rennedawn with one in which I never became The Villain—if that qualifies asworth it.” Trystan waved his hand in front of Clare’s gobsmacked expression. “How much of that got through, Clarissa?”

“Enough that I’m nauseous,” she mumbled, rubbing at her temples.

“The manor seems quiet, Clare. What could you possibly be fretting over?” Evie observed, looking about for signs of disturbance.

“Everybody duck!” Blade screamed, as a poof of purple fog rolled in and everyone flopped to the floor. Except Alexander, for obvious reasons.

Trystan threw his hands over Lyssa’s and Evie’s heads, blocking them from seeing the purple vapor wash over a desk, melting it.

No,Alexander thought.

There was only one sort of animal with such capabilities, and they were meant to be nowhere near Massacre Manor. But a tiny screech confirmed it, and Alexander’s mouth dropped open when he saw not one but two baby guvres chirping like birds.

And he knew then.

That he’d failed.

“Where is the mother, if I might ask?” Trystan was attempting to speak with a measured calm that was clearly ill-controlled, judging by the way his body tensed. He helped Lyssa and Evie to their feet as the purple fog cleared.

Lyssa pointed to Becky, and even in Alexander’s panic, he croaked a laugh at the HR woman’s horrified expression. “That isn’t funny,” she grumbled, folding her arms, and with a pout, she scooped up the brown one. “Cassandra is a temporary guest until her mother arrives. I’m a glorified nanny.”

Cassandra was nesting happily in Becky’s hair when the boy leaped into Evie’s arms, and she gasped like she’d just been given diamonds. “Oh, he’s darling, isn’t he?” The sadness that seemed to linger around Evie of late morphed into a warmth that filled the room.

“He’s one of the most lethal creatures in existence, Sage,” Trystan pointed out with a monotone delivery that didn’t match the way he was gazing at her cooing at the small thing. “We should cage them until we decide how to proceed.”

“You’ll have to cage me with them, then,” she replied with false sweetness, bouncing the boy like he was an infant. “Have you named him?”

“Clarke,” Lyssa said.

Alexander quickly scribbled down a word.