Page 74 of Adversary to the Villain

“That’s because they’re normal,” Clare moaned through a laugh. “So, am I to understand we’re betrothed once more?”

Tatianna grinned. “Oh, no. That won’t be happening until I get the most romantic proposal ever given.”

Clare sighed. “At least there’s no pressure.”

Tatianna smiled, tipping Clare’s chin up and kissing her. It was soft at first, the sweetness of two people who’d loved each other for most of their lives. They’d changed, they’d grown, they’d fallen apart. And now they’d come back together.

And then it was more, Tatianna’s lips down her neck, Clare’s hand up her skirt, growing more desperate to get closer. Hands caressing down cheeks and hearts beating in tune as each touch became more intimate. Clare gasped when Tatianna’s hand moved higher up her thigh, until she touched her in the spot that had Clare gripping her shoulders. A shiver shot down her spine when Tatianna laughed sensually. “Still so sensitive,” she whispered, followed by a firm kiss that deepened into moans and sensations building until Clare could hardly bear it any longer.

“Tati, I—”

“Let go, my love,” Tatianna urged, and then she did. The euphoria of being held by the one who knew her most, of the trust and faith she placed in her, overwhelmed her until she was languid and soft, turning them so she could shove the healer’s pink tulle skirts up above her waist and show her how certain of them Clare was with expert strokes of her lips and tongue.

It was a haze of passion until they were both panting and happily contented, leaning against the wall they’d fallen into, holding each other.

Clare felt almost ready to burst from the relief she felt; it was overwhelming. That she wasn’t alone any longer. That Tati was really hers again. Quickly, she reached for another abandoned knickknack.

“Is all this stuff really just abandoned memorabilia from the king who lived here before the Gleaming Palace was built?” Clare laughed, picking up a figurine of a swan wearing a top hat. “Why would anyone in their right mind leave this behind?”

“Clearly, Benedict lacks whimsy,” Tatianna said, tugging at a glittering tablecloth hanging on the wall. “Ah! For my examination table.”

“What if someone you’re treating gets blood on it?” Clare asked.

“I’ll kill them, obviously.” Tatianna grinned, pulling the tablecloth from where it had been draped against the wall and holding it up.

Clare smiled, too…until she saw what it had been hiding.

Chapter 35

Evie

“It barely looks anything like me,” Trystan grumbled, leaning against the sleek black desk in his office.

They’d searched till midnight with no success, Trystan then ordering them all to bed for at least the next twelve hours before reuniting in his office. Evie had immediately collapsed in a tired heap against his shoulder. It was a hazy memory, being carried, sweet words murmured into her ear. It felt like a dream.

But Evie had awoken safely tucked into her bed this morning, Lyssa beside her, her magic hovering above.

She’d waved.

It had waved back.

And perhaps for the first time since it had become hers, she had looked upon it kindly and smiled.

Now, with late-morning sun lighting the office space, there was new vigor in the air. The two baby guvres were bringing everyone joy as well as hope. They’d gotten the key before Benedict; up close, they’d discovered it was white, covered in tiny flowers of all colors, its dainty bow twisted at the top in an intricate design that looked as if it had been created with great care.

She imagined the gods of magic couldn’t create anything not so.

She giggled to herself, patting the satin skirts where she’d hidden it, wispy white and shimmering fabric lying in romantic drapes from her waist to the floor. It made her feel pretty and strong and incredibly fortunate to have awoken early enough to seethis.

Clare and Tatianna’s find.

“Correct.” Alexander smirked; the white shirt he wore was cleaned and pressed, his appearance a little more tailored than yesterday. His self-given haircut seemed to have been evened out, his face shaven if not still a bit shadowed. “It looksjust—” The words stopped, still roughened, his voice low. Rubbing his throat with a grimace, he finished, “Like you.”

Evie laughed. “Honestly, Evil Overlord, are you sure that’snotyou?”

“Of course not!” Trystan bit out, waving his hands around.

There was no “of course” about it. The portrait propped up against the wall of Trystan’s office was his exact likeness. Except this man smiled widely, as if he did it more often than not, with a dimple on each side of his face. But the biggest difference?