Evie didn’t move.
“A pleasure, Mister…?” Otto asked, his bald head reflecting the sunlight.
“Arthur,” The Villain said smoothly. “I believe you know one of my employees, Ms. Sage?”
Otto narrowed his gaze warily, looking to Evie. “It don’t matter what she—”
Before he could say more, Evie blurted out, “I was telling my boss of your wonderful craftsmanship when I was cleaning his collection of rare blades.”
There was still a wariness in the blacksmith’s face, but a renewed edge of interest at the prospect of a sale joined it. “Well, of course!” He grinned wide. “Evangelina got to witness my prowess with a blade firsthand while she was under my employ.”
Evie’s nails bit into her palms. “I certainly did.” A modicum of disdain slipped in over her false sincerity, but the two men were too busy sizing each other up to notice.
“What are you looking to have made, Mr. Arthur?” Otto gestured to a few pieces of unfinished work. “If you want it sooner rather than later, it’ll cost you, I’m afraid. I have many orders to fulfill.”
“Oh, I’m willing to pay whatever it takes.” The words were lower, almost angry, before they lightened again. “Especially since this will be a rather large project for you, Mr. Warsen. I hope you’re up to the challenge.”
Evie could practically see gold coins dancing in Otto’s vision. His beady gaze darted to hers as he answered, “I love a challenge.” Then he turned and opened the door to the smithy, a gust of hot air rushing out from the forge. “Please come in.”
The Villain followed him through the doors, and Evie tried to stay close behind him, but she froze when she felt Otto’s arm slip around hers. He leaned in and whispered in a low voice, “I’m glad you’re not letting what happened between us grow into a personal matter, Ms. Sage. It was, after all, only a misunderstanding.”
Her pulse pounded in her neck. “Misunderstanding, yes. I told you to get away from me…” Her boss was distracted by a row of chains hanging on the other side of the room. “And you misunderstood that for ‘attack me.’”
She pulled her arm from his grasp, smiling sweetly at him. “I can see the confusion.”
The blacksmith had the good grace to look panicked at her pronouncement. Good—she hoped he felt like his guts were about to spill out. Hers certainly did.
If there was ever a time to lose your lunch on someone’s shoes…
Pushing her shoulders back, she looked the feeble man directly in the eye. “But I can keep things professional. I hope you have the same capability.”
The Villain seemed to notice their hesitation and turned toward the pair standing by the door, a question in his black eyes.
“Why don’t you tell Mr. Warsen about your most recent purchase, Mr. Arthur?” Evie came to her boss’s side, her gaze focused on Trystan instead of the surroundings that haunted some of her darker nightmares.
Her boss angled his head but picked up her clue smoothly. “Of course. Mr. Warsen, what do you know about the dealings of wild creatures?”
“Not much, my lord, I have to admit.” Otto seemed to be taking the stance of humble shopkeeper. He played the part well. “I’m not as worldly a man as yourself, clearly.” He laughed, gesturing to his shabby clothes and dirt-covered face.
The Villain smiled, wide enough that the dimple in his cheek appeared. A boiling anger was building in her gut. Otto Warsen was hardly worthy of seeing something so precious.
But her boss didn’t notice her anger at all as he added, “I’ve had great luck in acquiring a guvre recently.”
The warmth in the room seemed to be sucked out with the mention of the deadly beast, whose serpent body and batlike wings were the least terrifying things about it. It was their breath that summoned nightmares. Dragons breathed fire, but guvres breathed venom that could melt the flesh from your bones. Their bites were slightly less deadly but no less terrifying.
“A rare and elusive creature, my lord,” Mr. Warsen said nervously. “They’re considered nearly impossible to train.”
“Yes, well, I’ve hired a very talented tamer of wild beasts. I have no doubt he’ll be successful once the animal is delivered to me.”
Evie almost snorted.
Good luck, Blade.
The boss did a double take when he spied a small desk and wooden chair pushed up against the corner. “Is that where you used to do your work, Sage?” He walked over and ran a hand over the desk, his lips pulling up lightly at the corners when he saw the little heart she’d carved into it nearly a year ago.
She ignored his question, determined to finish what they came for. Determined not to go down memory lane when it eventually led to a steep drop off a cliff.
“My boss was hoping to procure a collar for the creature, Mr. Warsen.” She took a step forward and nearly gasped when she felt a shot of pain in the scar on her right shoulder. She was quickly reminded of the magic in the blade he’d cut her with, the way her skin was probably glowing, even now, beneath her clothes.
Wincing and rubbing at the wound, Evie watched Mr. Warsen’s eyes follow her hand. He smiled.
She hated him.
He lifted a familiar dagger, holding it between his hands like a sacred object. Its uniquely white-colored blade gleamed and glittered beautifully, but to her it looked like a threat. “The last project we worked on before you left, Evangelina.” The closer the dagger came, the more her shoulder began to throb. He must have known, because he looked smug when he saw her wince again.
The universe was granting her small favors, it seemed, because her boss remained distracted by the little etchings on her old desk, looking lost in thought.
“I remember,” she said flatly, keeping the tremor out of her voice. “I told him I wasn’t certain a collar of that magnitude would be something you were capable of, Mr. Warsen, but perhaps I am mistaken?”
He took the bait like a fish on a hook. “Of course I can!” The man’s chest puffed up, and he threw his arms wide. “Take a look at a few of my creations, my lord!”
They both did a full scope of the room, blades and metals hanging from the walls like trophies. “Very impressive,” The Villain said, walking back toward the two of them until he was standing beside Evie. His warm presence and the smell of cinnamon drove a relieved exhale from her lips. “So you think you’re up for the job? I don’t want to tax you, especially with such an unfamiliar type of restraint.”
“It’s not unfamiliar!” Otto objected before lowering his voice to a heightened whisper. “Between you and me, my lord, I once designed a collar for a real-life dragon.” Evie began to have a daydream of grabbing a wooden floorboard and whacking the smug look right off his face.
“Is that right?” her boss said, trying to mask his interest.
“It was a secret project, solicited by one of King Benedict’s Valiant Guards.” Mr. Warsen’s grin was superior, so full of esteem for himself that he didn’t realize her boss was playing him like a fiddle.
She couldn’t believe it, but she felt like laughing. Evie resisted a sudden urge to plant a kiss on The Villain’s cheek for making this moment easier. But he had a habit of doing that, making her float when she was feeling like she’d sink.
“A special agent?” she said lightly, acting awestruck. “I wasn’t aware the king had a dragon in his possession.”
Otto turned to her, but his gaze snapped right back to The Villain, wanting to keep his attention. “No, our esteemed ruler would never want any part of an animal like that.” The blacksmith’s eyes widened as he shook his head at her boss. “Not that there is anything wrong with harboring rare beasts, my lord!”
“It’s hardly a savory hobby for a leader as esteemed and benevolent as our King Benedict,” The Villain said, a look of deference on his face.