Evie coughed, nearly choking. “It’s— It’s not a castle, Lyssa. It’s simply a manor house.”
“But it’s probably as big as a castle, isn’t it?” Her sister looked at her with wide, questioning eyes.
Evie loved far too much about her job—the people, the strategy. But she hated this part. The lying.
She couldn’t tell her family a single truth about what she was really doing. As far as they and the rest of the village were concerned, The Villain was a vile, reprehensible creature. Anyone even hinted to be associated with him was punished to the full extent the law allowed. But even knowing she could one day be found out, knowing that the wrath of the kingdom could so swiftly descend upon her, did not scare her. If anything, it excited her.
She was as reckless as her mother.
“It’s very large, yes.” Evie took a bracing sip of the wine she’d purchased on her way home, doing her best to divert the subject. “How are your lessons coming?”
To her relief, that single question set Lyssa on a tirade about the boy in her class who wouldn’t stop pulling on her braids. Evie sighed into the welcome distraction of Lyssa’s innocent life. What she wouldn’t give for just a touch of that youthful bliss.
Evie was only twenty-three years old, and yet she felt like she’d lived a lifetime. Between the way she took care of her family and the mistreatment she’d been dealt by those crueler and larger than she, it was a wonder her hair hadn’t gone gray.
It’s a wonder you made it to twenty-three at all with the ridiculous situations you get yourself into.
She supposed that was why she reconciled her work so easily in her mind. She had no idea what The Villain’s end goal was, aside from doing everything to screw over the king. But Evie knew the important things—he didn’t take advantage of his female employees, he paid all his workers fairly, and he requested his cauldron brew with at least a pound of sugar.
The last fact was not as relevant as his other virtues, but it was Evie’s favorite. Every morning she’d have to sneak his preferred amount of sugar out of the kitchen along with cream from the chilled box and add both to his drink as discreetly as possible. She was uncertain why he was so embarrassed about his preference, but she supposed it wasn’t good for his reputation to enjoy any such frivolities.
She loved even more that she was one of the only ones who knew, so much so that she found herself staring dazedly at the wall, smiling as her pulse quickened.
Her father finished his plate, clearing the table and placing the wooden bowls into the bucket near the stove. Evie stood so quickly, her chair wobbled. “I’ll take care of those, Papa!” She smiled and patted his arm, ignoring the frown marring his cheeks.
“Evangelina, I am perfectly capable of—”
“Would you tell me one of your stories?” Lyssa tugged at their father’s arm with a wide grin, then gave Evie a knowing look that made her seem much older than she was. Her sister wasn’t completely untouched by the harshness of the world, no matter how Evie tried to shield her.
The two of them sat down again, and Evie stiffened slightly as her father settled in her mother’s chair, Lyssa crawling into his lap and looking up as he dove into one of his many stories of villains and the heroes who defeated them. Her throat tightened as she swallowed the truth that she now worked for those he despised.
Turning back toward the bucket, Evie gripped the rag and scrubbed at a pot harshly. She felt her cheeks sting and her heart begin to pound around her shortened breaths. Feeling the water beneath her hands, she closed her eyes for a moment and began humming a light melody of a song her mother so often favored when she tended the dishes.
It was comforting to Evie somehow, despite all the pain her mother wrought. That tune was one of the last good things her mother had given her before that day, before the dandelion fields, just before.
Evie caught her reflection in the glass of the window in front of her, saw her father behind her carrying a dozing Lyssa toward her room. Looking back at her own face, Evie felt her lips pull up in a smile. One she’d practiced so many times before. Even when she felt like her lungs would collapse, even when her heart felt like it would give out from the strain, she’d always managed to tug her lips upward.
Her mother’s voice echoed in her head. Worry not, hasibsi. You could fix a broken world with just your smile.
She had been wrong, of course. Evie hadn’t fixed anything that day or in the days that came after.
But Evie still smiled.
Just in case.
And not for the last time hoped it was enough to keep those she cared about safe.
Chapter 6
The Villain
She was humming again.
Trystan Arthur Maverine, or more affectionately known to the public as The Villain, tapped his long fingers against his sleek black desk. The noise should’ve irritated him. It should’ve grated against his skull. He already had a headache after hearing laughter from the other workers outside his door. Being evil wasn’t supposed to be joyful, and his migraine was proof.
But he kept his anger contained. He’d gotten most of it out at the beginning of the week anyhow on the Valiant Guards he’d happily slaughtered and hung from the rafters for all to see.
Again, the lightness of her voice flitted through the small, open crack of his office door. If it were anyone else, he was certain he’d yank the door open and demand the infuriating sound cease immediately. He’d threaten and intimidate until they were shaking with fear and his reputation was solidified in their minds once more. It was safer for him—and for them.
But it wasn’t just anyone; it was Sage—which was the only way he could think of her. Having to work close enough to smell her vanilla scent was more familiarity than a person should need. Like a fool, he moved closer to the door and set his ear against it. He had to know what song it was. It had to be something she enjoyed often enough to memorize the tune.
Or perhaps it was—
Whack!
Reeling back, he held his hand to his nose as a bark of pain left his lips. He’d been so preoccupied by her song choice, he didn’t even notice the sound moving closer.
There was no humming now, just shocked silence and his befuddled assistant standing on the other side of the open door that had just made direct contact with his face.
Her elegant nose scrunched up as she took a cautious step backward, hands fluttering in front of her. “Oops.” Then her bow-shaped lips pulled into a wide smile, and suddenly the pain in his face was nothing compared to the fist squeezing his chest.
“I’m so sorry, sir. I should’ve knocked first.” She shrugged her small shoulders as if to say, What are we going to do with me?
He had a few ideas.
Shaking his head, he glared down at her. “Is there a reason you barreled into my office like a wrecking ball, Sage? Or were you just hoping to assault me with my own door?”
Her light eyes widened as she stepped around him and deeper into his personal space. As if she wasn’t already invading every other area of his life. “‘Assault’ is a bit strong, isn’t it? I’m sure you’ve been hit harder, in far more vulnerable places.”
She paused for a moment, seeming to consider the words she’d just spoken. The working of her mind was unlike anything he’d ever seen. It was almost as if every thought, every word said, made the nonsensical wheels of her mind turn until she could make sense of them in her own specific way. It was surprisingly intriguing. It was…
Disgustingly distracting, and he hated it.
And then she’d say something that would just render him speechless, like, “Not that I’m thinking about your vulnerable places! I mean, I am now because I said it, but I mean vulnerable like your—” She paused, and for some unfathomable reason, he needed to know how she’d finish that sentence. So he waited… “Your ear?”