“Sure, sure,” Blade said quietly from behind them. “I’ll go try and, um, get the… Well, you know,” he said, before running away from them and into the fray.
Arthur coughed lightly, a trickle of blood coming from the corner of his lips. Panic shook Evie at the sight, worried for a man who had once cared for Trystan and very apparently still did. And he mattered to her boss, whether Trystan knew it or not.
Ripping off another clean scrap of fabric from her dress, Evie held it gently to the corner of Arthur’s mouth, praying that whatever ailed him could be healed.
“You’re brave.” Arthur smiled at her lightly, dirt mixing with the blood on his cheeks.
Evie snorted. “Hardly.” She was impulsive and headstrong on her best days, but brave? It seemed too heavy a word for the vision she had of herself.
“You must be to work for—” He paused, eyes taking in Becky behind her. He seemed to be weighing something carefully before he turned back to Evie with a different course in mind. “To work for The Villain.”
Arthur winced around the last two words, like calling his son something sinister was more painful than any of the wounds he’d suffered.
“He’s not so scary.” Evie smiled, feeling a small sort of glow inside when she pictured Trystan’s softer moments in her mind.
“Oh, but he is.” Arthur winced again but smiled. Finding humor in his pain.
“I’ve never been more afraid of anyone in my life.”
But Evie could hear the feelings behind his words. That his fear wasn’t of Trystan but of where the life he’d chosen would lead him.
He was afraid for him, and Evie was so touched, she vowed she would keep this man alive, no matter what she had to do.
Just then, Becky gasped, and Evie spun around to see—
She froze.
They were surrounded by Valiant Guards, swords drawn with ruthless determination.
And they didn’t look like heroes at all…
Chapter 44
The Villain
After a mad dash through the ruins of the party, stepping over unrecognizable bodies, some of them still groaning, Trystan spotted Clare. Tugging his sister hard by the arm, Trystan ducked them both into the shadows in one sweeping move.
She was shaking, her dress torn and her left shoulder bare where the strap was missing. It made him think of their childhood, when Clare was reckless and Trystan would feel pinches in his chest at what might happen to her.
But they were grown now. He’d learned quickly that neither of his siblings needed his worry or concern.
“Tryst?” Clare’s voice shook, as though she was unsure her brother was really here to rescue her. But then she seemed to collect herself and shouted, “Father. We must find Father!”
“What in the deadlands are you even doing here, Clare?” He was feeling so many things, too many. Emotions had never been easily processed through the dark confines of Trystan’s mind.
He worried for Evie, he worried for his sister, he was infuriated at whoever caused this mess, and there were not words to describe the anger he felt toward King Benedict.
“Father invited me!” Clare yelled, her usual temper flaring and melting away any trace of fear he thought he’d seen in her gaze. “What in the deadlands are you doing here?” Her eyes became horrified saucers. “Did you do this?”
“Of course not,” he growled, freezing when he saw Blade sprint past him. “Gushiken!”
The dragon trainer halted in his tracks, swinging a looped rope, sweat pouring down his face. “I almost had him—just need a little more height.” Blade peeked over at Clare and smiled like they were meeting over brunch. “Nice to meet you.”
“My sister.” Trystan claimed her, even though it was unwise. No one at the office, save for Tatianna and now Sage, knew of his familial connections. Or even his identity.
“Oh.” Realization lit in the dragon trainer’s eyes. “Oh, you’re— Hello.” The man obviously knew something he shouldn’t, because he looked like a cat who’d found a mouse to play with.
Trystan was out of patience, as usual. “Clare. I’ll find Arthur—just stay out of the way.”
“I don’t take orders from you.” She rolled her eyes and turned to Blade. “You need a sleeping draught to take that thing down, don’t you?”
“I—” Blade looked to Trystan, uncomfortable to be caught in the siblings’ squabble. “That would be good. Can you make one?”
Clare curled one side of her lips at the trainer. “Yes, I can. There are some herbs I can use growing nearby—give me five minutes.”
They both turned in the direction of the shrubs, but a familiar scream wrenched the air and a horrid, hollow feeling knifed its way through his heart.
Sage.
“I have to—” But then a sharp pain sliced through his head. He saw dark spots as he fell to his knees, and his last image was of Sage waiting for him to come save her, but he’d never reach her in time.
Chapter 45
Evie
“Put them with the rest,” a Valiant Guard called over to the one hauling Evie toward a handful of people crowded together, some of them clinging to each other and sobbing as they were gathered in a clearing not far from the original party location. Arthur stumbled and groaned behind her, and Evie quickly turned to help him.
“Stay in line!”
“He’s injured!” she yelled back, yelping in pain when the bigger knight gripped her by the shoulder, hard.
“Dayton!” one of the others called. “Stay your temper; these people are innocent.” The voice was kind, and despite the helmet he wore, Evie felt calmer.
But then she spotted another group of people and the unconscious man lying beside them. Taking in his torn black shirt and his too-still face, Evie swallowed back a scream at the thought that he was dead. But then she saw the blood trickle from his forehead as he shifted and she nearly passed out from relief. Not dead, just unconscious.
Evie pushed through the throngs of people, ignoring the calls from a knight to stay where they told her. She dropped beside Trystan and brushed a blood-soaked lock from her boss’s forehead. “Sir?” she whispered. “Are you all right?”
He groaned lightly underneath her touch, eyelids fluttering before going still once more.
For once, Becky’s appearance was a welcome sight. “Is he okay?” Her eyes were wide and her breathing heavy. “Where is Blade?” she asked, whipping her head around to look at the few other people standing with them. He was nowhere in sight.
“How are we getting out of this?” Evie winced when a knight threw another screaming woman into the group. “What are they doing here?”
“It had to be a setup,” Becky hissed. “There’s no way they’re here by coincidence. Whoever King Benedict has working for him, they wanted us all here for this.”
“Then why aren’t they taking us away?” Evie asked, looking around at the group. They bore the painted silver armor on their shoulders and chests. Most of their faces were hidden behind painted helmets, each inscribed with King Benedict’s insignia. But there was confusion playing among them. Whoever had organized them here had apparently abandon them, and with the guvre hovering nearby, each of the knights shifted nervously.
Evie could work with nervous men; they usually came by the dozen.
Arthur hobbled over, crouching beside her, and brushed a hair from The Villain’s face. “They don’t know what The Villain looks like, and whoever did is nowhere to be found,” Arthur whispered. “I’m too weak to heal anyone, but—” Feeling the pulse at Trystan’s wrist, Arthur turned warm eyes to Evie. “He’ll be all right. His lifeline is still strong. Do you have a plan?”
Becky was looking at her, too. The other people still conscious around them shuffled nervously, not paying attention to them as much as the guards. Evie found herself panicked—the person who gave the orders was unconscious. Evie’s job was to follow direction and follow it well. What was an assistant to do when her ruthless boss was out cold?
It was obvious, really. Whatever ruthlessness this situation required. Evie would have to become a villain herself, because they were not going to die here. Not today.