Chapter 36

Evie

" Your family members make mine look like a picnic," The Villain gritted out after Helena had slammed the door behind her.

Evie stared at him with a blank expression and then asked curiously, "How is Malcolm? We haven't heard from him in a while."

"He sent a letter to the manor while I was captured that said he hoped I didn't get executed."

Both of her brows shot upward. "Oh, well, that's promising." She gentled her voice. "And Arthur? Have you heard from him since he returned home?"

"He sent me a letter as well. It appears both our families have made a habit of poorly timed correspondence."

Evie usually tried her best not to pry, but he looked a little like he wanted her to. Wishful thinking. "What did it say, Trystan?" She lightly touched his arm.

The Villain actually appeared to soften a bit at the sound of his name. "I don't know. I crumpled it up and threw it in a drawer. I likely will never open it."

It would be easy to chide him for it. But he didn't need her to tell him how to manage complex feelings. She barely knew how to manage her own. "If you ever want to open it, I will sit with you. You don't have to read it out loud or anything like that. But if you wanted someone there…I'd be there for you."

He moved away, rotating his arm like her light touch had strained a muscle. "I will, um, keep that in mind."

She looked at the keys, out of reach on the small table, and then back to The Villain. "All right." She nodded, swiftly changing the subject, and flicked a hand toward him. "Remove your shirt."

"I beg your p-pardon?" he sputtered. "For what purpose?"

She rolled her eyes. "Relax, Evil Overlord. I'm not trying to offend your delicate sensibilities. I'm going to make a rope to bring the keys over to us." Even as the words came out with ease, though, her face felt aflame.

He untucked his white shirt and pulled it over his head.

Terrible plan. Terrible, horrible, AWFUL plan.

If it wasn't already clear that the effects of the flower had worn off by the beginnings of a headache, this would've sobered her completely. She'd seen him shirtless before, in passing when he was training with the Malevolent Guard, or if he occasionally became overheated during a Scatter Day run. But she'd always avoided staring, at least for a long time and certainly not this close.

Shut your mouth! She clamped it so tight her lips were bloodless beneath the rouge. He looked more menacing without his shirt on, like he'd grown seven feet in the last few seconds. His chest was widened with muscle, his shoulders hard, and… Was he flexing?

"There you go, little tornado," he said quietly, dropping the warm garment into her hands.

Her eyes went to the gold-flecked ink that circled his upper arm, like vines and leaves that had been gilded into his skin. It was nearly identical to the employment ring on her pinkie finger—the one he'd claimed to have given her for trust purposes, so that she'd never betray him.

"It looks like mine," she declared, reaching out, running her finger over his mark to compare. He sucked in a breath, and she looked to his face. It had gone blank, but not the normal disinterest he showed everyone in the office—no, this was forced. He was trying to be emotionless.

Interesting.

"A…coincidence." He sounded confident to the untrained ear, but Evie had spent an inordinate amount of time observing his minute tells. He was nervous .

She squinted and crossed her arms. "Are you sure it's not because you used the gold ink bargain to magically link us so you'd always know when I was in danger?"

His eyes popped so wide, he resembled a caricature drawing. Exactly as she'd hoped. Better, even. "You know?"

She snorted, bumping her knuckles under his chin playfully. "I'm afraid I've known for a while, Your Evilness."

One hand fell to his hip, the other dragging through his hair till it almost stood up on its own. "You—you— How?"

She shrugged. "I guessed. Clare confirmed."

Words were normally a struggle for him, but now they seemed completely out of reach. She put him out of his misery. "I thought you'd tell me eventually, so I didn't say anything, but I got impatient. Sorry."

The apology, ironically enough, was the thing that sent him over the edge. In a flash, she was in his grip. "You're sorry, not angry? You don't hate me for keeping it from you?"

Carefully, she removed each of his hands, giving him a dubious grin. "Do I hate you for protecting me instead of putting ink on my body that will kill me? Oh, yes. To the gallows with you, you deviant monster." Her sarcasm didn't seem like it was well taken—her boss was still too flabbergasted, too confused, so she added with a touch more humility, "Sir, I'd hardly begrudge you secrets. I have my own, too."

His head angled toward her, his astonishment turning into something sharper. "Like what?"

Ignoring him, she frowned at the shirt in her hands. "This isn't long enough." She dropped it and, without warning, lifted her dress over her head.

"Sage!" the boss roared, his hands waving like he was trying to put out an unruly fire.

"Oh, relax, Evil Overlord. I wear less than this to swim in the pond in my village, and the men there don't startle," she said, rolling her eyes and noting the wildness in his own as she tied the two garments together and promptly removed one of her shoes to give it weight.

"What are their names?" His voice was distant as she focused on her task of wrapping the tail end of the cloth around the shoe.

"Who?" she huffed, finally finishing.

"The men in your village who saw you in your undergarments."

"I don't remember. Why?"

"Just curious." His voice was low.

"Got it!" She grinned at him and then promptly frowned when she saw his face. "You look like you swallowed something bitter."

"I did," he said through gritted teeth.

She hardly noted his response, merely gripped the shoe, holding tight to the end of their knotted clothing, and aimed it in the direction of the keys—but instead knocked over a chipped vase about four feet in the other direction.

Biting her lip, Evie looked at her boss sheepishly. "I was so excited to get the shoe knotted that I forgot I have terrible aim."

He held out his hand for it. "If you were aiming for the vase, you are an excellent shot." His dimple appeared. Every barricade she'd begun to build around her heart to keep him out, to protect herself, collapsed. She could deal with the grumpy villain, the murderous villain, the torturous villain, but the charming villain? That was simply unreasonable.

He began his own attempt at aiming, standing with the same posture he had on Scatter Day with the interns. Focused attention, like he was blocking out everything but himself and the keys. He tossed the shoe, and Evie sucked in a breath, watching as it sailed through the air and…overshot the keys by a yard, knocking hard into one of the windows. It cracked, and water slowly began leaking in.

Evie tilted her head and said nothing, just let her smug expression speak for her. The Villain dragged the shoe back, glaring like it had personally offended him. "It's lighter than I thought."

"So you took that out on the window?" she replied.

He set up to aim the shoe at the keys once more, where water was now troublingly puddling around the table. "I'll get it this time, now that I have the mechanics squared away."

"Sir…the water," she said nervously.

"It's a little leak, Sage. Leave the theatrics to Fritz and his troupe." He tossed the shoe again, once more slamming into the window, and the crack got bigger. "Damn it."

She glared at him. "You hit it on purpose that time!"

"I have too much force in my throw," he muttered grimly.

"Yes, your strength is such an encumbrance—however do you bear it?" she replied sardonically, but the effect of her words was lessened by her heart rate rising at the water now pooling at her feet, soaking up to her ankles and chilling her toes.

She took a deep inhale, trying to assure herself that someone would hear all the noise, that the water was leaking in slowly enough that there would be plenty of time.

Until a terrible, sharp sound filled the room. The glass of the window was fracturing as cracks covered the entire clear surface, and then it burst. Water rushed in without reservation, streaming in waves, and they were trapped.

With no way out.