“And The Villain?” Evie said, his name renewing her horror that all the destruction done was because of her. It had been her father, but Evie had led him right to her boss’s quarters. “When did you find out I was working for him?” Evie had been so incredibly careful, even more so at the beginning.
“I didn’t at first. I was working on something else for the king, a project of sorts.” He turned to grip the fireplace mantel, his face illuminated by the dancing flames. “But when Lyssa was at school and you were there, King Benedict had a letter delivered, detailing an incident observed by some of his other guards. Of a young girl traipsing through the forest with The Villain before they disappeared. A girl they identified as my older daughter.”
His disappointment was unfounded, but it was palpable, impossible to ignore.
“I began reporting to the king that very day, and you became the key to The Villain’s downfall.”
Evie felt sick.
“No.” She was cracking like a vase that was about to be thrown away.
“Yes.” The memories of her father’s gentle smiles would be tarnished forever by the one pulling at his mouth now, what it meant. “And now you will help me get the mated guvres back for the king.”
“What does he need them for?” Evie narrowed her eyes, noting her father’s face growing pale, a sheen of sweat building on his forehead.
“The greater good.”
With a small smile of resolve, Evie dug deep inside herself with the last of her strength. “I don’t want to be good.” The last word was spoken with a malevolence Evie hadn’t been certain she possessed. But hearing it now—it felt pleasant.
More, it felt right.
Griffin Sage limped toward her, gripping her shoulders, painful, bruising. But Evie didn’t move—she just stayed there, staring at a man she’d once trusted, believed in. Who she always thought believed in her. She wondered if she’d ever adjust to this new reality. One in which the man who’d told her stories of made-up heroes named East Marigold, who’d checked under her bed for monsters, threw her love and loyalty away like garbage.
“You don’t even care that you ruined your life.” His voice cracked, and she realized her father looked genuinely devastated.
“No, I didn’t,” Evie whispered, finding pity for this broken man. “If anyone ruined anything”—she leaned closer to him—“it would be you.”
His grip on her shoulders loosened, eyes going unfocused.
“I wanted to be wrong.” She swallowed a lump as he released her and stumbled into his desk, knocking things to the ground. “But I knew I wasn’t the moment I heard that name.”
His chest started moving up and down at a rapid pace, and he was opening his mouth but holding his throat. Like his words were trapped.
“I didn’t notice the ink, or the invitation to see the core healer in my room, or the notebook you gifted me my first week.” Her voice cracked, and she turned away to wipe her eyes. “But when I heard the name of a story you made up as one of Clare’s clients, I knew it was you.”
Her father collapsed then, staring up at the ceiling, eyes glazed over in shock. She kneeled beside him, taking his limp hand in hers. “That pain medication I gave you earlier, the one Tatianna made. It didn’t taste different because it was the new one she’d made—it tasted different because it was a slow-acting sedative.” Her voice sounded like honey, dripping, sickly sweet.
Her father rasped out just one word. “You.”
“Yes, I knew. I knew before I even walked in the door.” She shook her head. “I’d hoped that I was wrong.”
Evie shook as her father reached out a helpless hand for her.
“But I wasn’t, Papa.” She swiped at the unwanted tear on her cheek, her face remaining unmoved. “There is no room in my world for someone who hurt me the way you did. You do not belong walking on the ground I walk or breathing the air I breathe. You don’t get to move on or be redeemed. Your story is finished. Whatever happens to you now is of no concern to me.”
She sounded stronger than she felt as she watched her father open his mouth one final time. “He’s…a…monster,” he rasped out.
She knew who he meant.
Evie let go of his hand and placed hers on his cheek. “We’re all monsters in the end. At least mine lives in the light.”
And then her father, the traitor, closed his eyes.
Chapter 55
The Villain
Trystan was soaked to the bone.
He rode furiously through the woods, jumping streams and boulders, barely able to see under the downpour of rain. The familiar fork in the road appeared, and he was relieved to see the lit cottage, light coming softly from each corner. Nothing bad could possibly happen in a home that looked so inviting.
By the gods, will he kill her?
He wouldn’t; he couldn’t. But the man had literally planted a bomb, knowing it could easily destroy her. With that thought burned in his mind, The Villain leaped from his horse, tucking it quickly underneath the pavilion at the bottom of the drive and then kicking the front door open.
“Evie!” he called, realizing that if there were any secrets left in this house, he was about to uncover them inch by terrible inch. But there was no answer, just a small-sounding sob coming from the hall. Trystan raced in that direction, halting hard when he saw who sat there.
Lyssa Sage was short, with hair that stuck out in every direction. He was sure there was no one on earth he had less in common with, but she looked up at him like she trusted him when she cried, “Mr. Maverine, I think my papa is hurting my sister.”
He knelt fast, leaning away so he wouldn’t scare her. A strange thing, when that was so often his goal, especially while trying to get answers. “Where are they, Lyssa?” The Villain asked, pushing soaked locks out of his face.
“His office.” She pointed to a door on the right, closed and quiet. “I heard yelling, and then Evie was crying, and it sounded like someone fell.”
He cleared his throat, trying not to let his panic show. “I’m sure it was just a disagreement.” He turned to Tatianna, who trudged in behind him, shaking the rain from her cloak and then her braids.
“Take Lady Lyssa back to the manor,” he said, holding out a hand to the little girl, which she readily accepted. The Sage women seemed to keep courage in large supplies.
“But what about—” Tatianna could’ve said a hundred different things. What about Evie? What about kidnapping? What about taking a child back to a place that deals with stealing, murder, and torture? Not to mention deadly creatures and salacious company…with severed heads in the entryway.
“Take her through the back entrance. Just be sure she’s covered from the rain,” he said.
Tatianna pulled her own water-repelling cloak around Lyssa, who instinctively snuggled into her side.
“I’m a friend of your sister’s. You’re going to come stay with us for a while,” Tatianna said kindly, leading her out the door and into the lightning and rain.
“Evie’s not a maid there, is she?” The little girl’s voice, unbelievably, brought a small smile to his face, much like her sister’s so often did. But the smile lasted only a second before he remembered his mission and crept closer to the office door.
He leaned his ear against it, but there was no noise. The silence made his heart pound.
Trystan put his hand against the knob and twisted slowly, pushing it open on a groaning creak. When he could survey the full scene, he stopped, his mouth dropping open.
She was there, alive. He let out a soul-shuddering sigh of relief before taking in the rest of it. The body of a man, who Trystan assumed was her father, lay prone on the ground.
Evie’s eyes went to his, sad, bloodshot from her tears. Her hands were shaking. “I figured it out.”
His entire body seemed to sag from pure relief.
She sucked in a hard breath. “He’s not dead. But I gave him a sedative, so he should be out for— I don’t know, how long do sedatives last? Maybe I did kill him.” She sounded robotic, like she was reasoning everything out to herself rather than him.
He started to walk toward her, but she stood, moving up to him, holding out her hand before he could speak. After taking a deep inhale, Sage said quickly, “I know he was the traitor. I mean, I didn’t know before tonight—”