Page 73 of Adversary to the Villain

Why

A perfect descriptor of all areas of his current life.

Lyssa shrugged. “They both start withC. We were keeping them in the healer’s quarters, but they got out while we were looking with Gideon.”

Evie’s brow furrowed. “For what?”

Gideon chimed in, strolling into the office area beside Keeley. “Oh good, you found them. May we go back to searching now?”

Alexander had a keen eye for human nature; the smallest of actions could open up for him the truth of a person’s character. He’d mastered this skill as both prince and frog. It was how he knew immediately what Gideon was going to say.

“We have reason to believe the second book of Rennedawn is hidden here in the manor.”

Alexander shut his eyes tight, knowing that with this discovery…

Their fate was sealed.

Chapter 34

Clare

“He never went through any of this? Trystan has more than a hundred workers, and none of them ever came to clean out down here?” Clare grumbled, climbing down to the cellar, where it appeared all manner of junk was being kept. She stumbled on a rolled-up rug, catching herself on the nearby wall.

Tatianna didn’t stumble over things, merely glided along, almost as if she were floating on air in her long tulle skirt. “You know Trystan doesn’t care overmuch for sentimentality. He never saw the need.”

“He didn’t even bother to have it cleared out for storage space, though?” Clare questioned, then tripped on a portrait, gasping when Tatianna pulled her tightly against her to keep her from falling. Their faces were scant inches apart, and Clare could smell something sugary on her breath. She looked down at the painting and realized it was a worn portrait…of their family. It had been done some fifteen-odd years prior. Trystan and Malcolm had their arms thrown around each other, grinning. Their mother’s face, as usual, was pinched and displeased, and Clare had her arms happily thrown around…Arthur.

“Are you all right?” Tatianna asked softly, her beautiful face clouding Clare’s vision until all she could see was her. “Really, Clare.”

Clare felt the weight of grief hovering above her most days, surrounding her until she had no choice but to wallow in it properly. But they didn’t have the luxury of time for such things. “I am as well as a person can be mere days after losing their father.” She answered the question with some honesty, at least.

Tatianna folded her lips inward. “You know—” She swallowed, taking a step away, and Clare moved closer subconsciously, as if their hearts were tied together. “I haven’t changed my mind about us…trying again.”

Clare gaped. Because really, she’d thought the nail had been driven into that coffin the moment they’d found out Clare had been writing to Amara Maverine for some time. Trusting her mother when she absolutely shouldn’t have. And now her father was dead.

After all that…it was too good to be true. “I think I see books over here,” Clare muttered, climbing over old chairs and knickknacks covered in dust. “Can you hold up the torch while I look?” she asked, starting to sort through old texts—some books she recognized, some she didn’t. None the one they sought.

The light from the torch above signaled Tatianna’s presence. “You don’t have any thoughts on what I just said? I know the timing’s not ideal.”

Clare huffed a humorless laugh. “Our timing is never ideal, Tati. The first time I proposed, we were in the middle of an argument.”

When Clare looked up, Tatianna was smiling—the one that made her knees wobble and her heart pound. “We had a good time making up, though, didn’t we?”

Clare’s face heated, a tingling feeling climbing the back of her neck at the memory. The way they’d cleared off the table frantically, Tatianna’s skirts being torn, Clare lowering to her knees—

“Ah, you do remember,” Tatianna said smugly, searching shelves and shoving away boxes that were filled with things that weren’t books.

“I couldn’t forget that day even if I wanted to. I was so happy,” Clare murmured, tossing another book aside onto a growing pile. “It’s not here. See any books over there?”

“Clare.” Tatianna took hold of her arm, her brown eyes imploring.

Clare’s lips parted, a burning beginning to build behind her eyes, blurring her vision. “I just didn’t want to assume anything or make you feel like just because my father died, you’d have to—”

Tatianna’s fingers touched Clare’s lips gently, nothing but soft kindness in her voice. “Clare, I don’t want to be there for you for any other reason than loving you, earnestly. You’ve always been it for me. The moment we met, we both knew, didn’t we?”

Tears came swiftly, then sniffling immediately after as Clare wiped at her eyes. “Yes. I’ve just been so, well, you know.” She laughed and hiccupped.

Tatianna laughed, too, placing the torch in the holder on the wall, freeing her hands to hold Clare’s cheeks. “I’ve been so ‘you know,’ too. We both have. But we found our way back. So now, when things get difficult—and we both know they will—instead of leaving, I want us to always stay and fix it. It’s what my parents have always done.”