Apprentice to the Villain (Assistant to the Villain, #2)

by Hannah Nicole Maehrer

the little liability

My gods, the woman was like the sun. He needed tinted glasses just to look at her.

This new guard’s deep voice sounded oddly familiar, but his face was covered, only his green eyes visible. Had he seen those eyes before?

The loudest voice belonged to the green-eyed knight, who was begging him to halt. The pure desperation—and was that a hint of fear?—in

“I wish you’d pay more attention.” She skewered him with a look of censure, her most intimidating look—her best, really. His amber eyes, so often filled with mirth, grew intense as he replied, “I promise you: I do.” And then, without warning, he reached out and gently pushed her glasses back up her nose. She hadn’t even noticed they’d slipped. But he had.

She was afraid, but she knew now: fear usually meant you were standing on the edge of something new, something self-altering, something potentially good. Fear was not something she would shy away from ever again.

“I would never make the mistake of underestimating a woman like you. It would be a fatal one.”

He had to break free of his binds, had to get to her. Alive. Sage was alive. She appeared then, stumbling through a litter of bodies, tripping on the hem of her dress. A wave of tenderness came over him through the fierceness igniting his bloodstream, his battling emotions of rage and relief making him feel wild as his starving eyes took her in. Rosy cheeks, bloodred lips, wild black curls. Mine. He’d do battle with that unruly thought later,

“It is fiction for a reason, you menace. By the gods, what if you carried out every impossible act you read about?” It was a rhetorical question, but she couldn’t resist the urge to slip into the normal ease of their cadence, like no time had passed. “Oh, I suppose that I would need to become very, um—flexible.”

He would follow her off a cliff without question. And Evie knew she was in love with him. Right then, right there.

She breathed, “It’s so beautiful.” Her boss had been silent beside her, but now he replied hoarsely, still gripping her hand, “Yes, it is.” And when she turned, he was looking at her.

“Sage, are you of the delusion that everything can be fixed with a hug?” The lack of composure he was exhibiting in their interactions was growing addictive. “No,” she said sweetly. “But don’t they help?” “No.” Kingsley held up a sign: Yes. The boss narrowed his eyes at the frog before sighing in resignation.

There was no emotion in his voice when he said, “Does your mind live in the gutter?” She shook her head, tapping a finger against her lips. “No, but it rents there on occasion.”

you natural disaster,”

“You know as well as I, Trystan Maverine, that humans demonize what they cannot understand. It isn’t our job to educate them, just to live the way we’re meant to with the knowledge that being called a monster does not make you one.”

“For what it’s worth…I do not think you a monster.”

“From you, Trystan Maverine, that means a great deal.”

“Sometimes family isn’t a thing we are born into but a choice we make. Sometimes”—Evie smiled—“the people who love you most in your life are the ones who choose you.”

“I was checking on the female guvre, but it’s difficult for me to get close without the male freaking out and getting violent.” The dragon trainer hesitated, smirking at Trystan before saying, “You know what that’s like, don’t you, boss?”

Evie Sage had been told many times in her life that she was stubborn. And while she was aware of this flaw, she knew it wasn’t her biggest—not by a long shot. No, Evie Sage’s greatest affliction in life was spite.

Becky nodded toward the door and smiled at her—a real one,

Next thing she knew, she was over his shoulder again, being gently flopped onto the bed like a rag doll. Though she had the sudden, foolish hope his body would land on top of hers, it didn’t.

They both broke into a grin at the same time—so big it felt like safety, like coming home. It felt in part like she’d just gotten a piece of her lost childhood back. The simple joy of making a friend.

Unrequited? What a fucking cosmic joke.

she sighed. There was nothing like a man in a puffy white shirt, and wet to boot.

again. “I think I am very sad. But I won’t be forever.” Words to live by.

You were always supposed to meet Evie Sage, Trystan Maverine. Just as Evie Sage is meant to be your downfall, and you her undoing.

“Lyssa, I promise Lord Trystan will have a tea party with you at least once a week from now until the end of time,

As they continued toward the exit, they heard one last refrain from the creature, and Evie knew it would haunt her for the rest of her life. “Think of me…when you’re with the trees.”

“You remember how I was supposed to give you the antidote to the sleeping-death fruit? So you’d awaken.” Her eyes widened. “Yes, Gideon. A most important step.” She laughed nervously. Gideon took her hand and dropped a vial into it. It rolled back and forth on her palm, glowing. The antidote. “I couldn’t get it to you in time. I kept being blocked by guards.” She ran her other hand through her curls to hide how it had begun to shake. “This makes no sense. If you didn’t give me the antidote, how did I awaken? There’s only one cure.” Gideon smiled, like this wasn’t going to alter the very fabric of her world. “There are two.”

Beware the wrath of a kind heart.