Chapter 47
Trystan
Trystan Maverine once considered himself to be a patient man.
Before. But now, as he tried to force his eyes open for the tenth time over the course of who knew how many minutes, he’d never felt so impatient.
He tried again. Nothing. Gods damn it all.
He used to rule an entire corporation with zero defiance, yet now even his bloody body wouldn’t listen to him.
Probably because a building had fallen on him.
Or rather, around, when he dragged Sage through the opening, just as the rest of the structure crumbled beneath the heat and flame. Sage had been coughing when Trystan lost consciousness, and he’d awoken to someone prodding at his shoulder—small fingers that sent a shooting sensation through him.
He heard a shift somewhere beside him. A tiny sniffle.
His eyes shot open and found the source.
Of course it was that fucking easy. “Sage?” he said, wincing at how haggard he sounded.
She jumped back from the bed, ashes in her hair, a bit of soot dusting the tip of her nose, one of her cheeks, both of her bared shoulders.
“I didn’t die. Why are you crying?” His eyebrows lowered.
“Unless you’re crying because I did not die.
Which would be rather rude, considering I saved your life. Again,” he added dryly.
She hadn’t spoken, her light eyes so dim, so pained that he dropped the casual veneer immediately.
“That was in poor taste,” he admitted. “I apologize—”
And then her arms were around him and she was sobbing into his neck, pressing a long kiss to his cheek, long enough for him to feel himself choking up, for tears to burn his own eyes.
“When you didn’t wake up, I thought I’d lost you.
I ran away so I wouldn’t hurt you, and I ended up doing it anyway—” She put a hand over her mouth to contain a sob, then removed it slowly when it passed.
“The first sign of trouble. I’m a hypocrite.
I’m a coward. I—” She began to pull away from him.
His arms locked around her, and he grabbed her face between his hands as gently as he could manage. Evie’s hands found his wrists as their foreheads touched. “You’re allowed to run any time you wish, love,” he said smoothly into her ear. “I will be after you before you can blink.”
She pushed away from him with a quirked brow. “I blinked a few thousand times in the last week. And you were nowhere to be found.”
“I thought you needed—” He winced when he saw her eyes widen. “Some space. You deserved some privacy. I didn’t want to—”
“I stabbed you,” she interrupted, blurting the words like they were pinging around the inside of her mouth.
Staring at the healed scar on his shoulder with adorable confusion, she poked it again, and he let her, enjoying the feel of her skin against his own.
“Further, I stabbed you with a magic dagger. I’ve been— Gods, I’ve been a mess over it. I know Tatianna’s healing skills are above par, but this is a different thing entirely.”
“Tatianna didn’t heal me,” Trystan murmured, carefully gauging every small movement on her face. “The wound healed itself. Or rather…I…healed myself.”
Her eyes turned to saucers. “You healed yourself? How?”
“Before I tell you what I’m about to tell you”—he sat up farther with a grunt, ignoring the bump on his head from the falling debris—“I need you to understand something first.”
The way her throat bobbed indicated her unease, the way she tugged her hands back into her chest to keep from touching him. A tragedy. “Yes?”
He grabbed one of those hands and pulled it into his own chest. “What happened was not your fault, and even if it was, that would not have stopped me from being here with you now.”
Her lip wobbled, and her sigh was relieved. “I would understand—”
“It. Was. Not. Your. Fault.” He punctuated the words with his forehead pressed against hers.
Gods, he’d missed holding her. The scent of her hair was veiled by smoke, but he breathed it in, kissing her temple.
“The dagger was imbued with magic. The same magic that’s been living in your shoulder since Otto Warsen cut you with it. ”
He gave her a moment to process before finishing, “The magic that was stolen from me the way yours was from you…was the same magic in your dagger.”
Her lips parted, and her stare went elsewhere to recover from the revelation. “So the magic in the dagger, the same that’s been protecting me…was your healing magic?”
Trystan lightly held her arm, lest his next words knock her arse-first off the bed. “Core Healer magic. I’m a… I’m a Core Healer.”
Well. I think I’ve broken her nonsense wheels, because nothing is spinning behind her eyes right now.
She was blank. Shocked. So shocked she choked and laughed, in endearing and concerning ways.
“Your whole purpose on this earth, according to Rennedawn’s storybook…
” She wheezed, drying her under eyes with the backs of her hands.
“Is to rid the world of me? And instead that same magic has been protecting me?”
Her laughter grew louder and mildly hysterical.
Should he panic? It felt like he should panic.
“Do you need something?” he asked, low.
“A timeline that’s not trying to kill me?” Her head fell into his chest, and her shoulders shook, still giggling. Scary, that.
“I’m attempting to tell you that the magic within the dagger was reaching for me and that is why you couldn’t control it. It is in no way your doing, and even if it was…” He waited for her to look at him to finish. “I will not leave. I will never leave you alone. Is that clear?”
She merely nodded, red tingeing her cheeks.
“Good.” He grinned. “Should only take a hundred or so more times to convince you.”
Sage smiled so hard her eyes squinted, before she collapsed on the bed beside him.
It was the first time he bothered to take in his surroundings.
It was a small cottage. Or perhaps a shed?
He was atop a bed pushed into the corner, with a worn sink and several small pieces of furniture scattered on the other side, a cushion here and a small table there.
“I knew that prudish gentleman was still in there somewhere, waiting to reprimand me.” Sage was bumbling as she brought a full water bowl over, passing him a rag to wipe the soot from his hands and arms. She began to use her own cloth on her face.
He kept his focus on a stubborn soot stain on his arm as he added, “There is nothing gentlemanly about how I wish to reprimand you. Of that, I am certain.”
It was factual. So he wasn’t certain why her response was gaping at him like he’d just thrown a brick at her head. “You are doing this on purpose. This is revenge for all the times I made you choke on your food, isn’t it?”
“Honesty?” Trystan arched a brow. “It’s what you requested. Would you rather I lie?”
“Yes,” she squeaked. “Lie.”
Trystan shrugged. Very well. “I had a dream about you just before I woke up. It was a very clean dream. Nobody was naked.” He smirked, ducking when she chucked a seat cushion at him.
“Lie better,” she huffed, rolling her eyes.
“I hate you,” he said softly, looking at every inch of her precious face with a far-too-tender gaze.
“Do you two need a sock for the door?” Helena, Evangelina’s cousin, entered with a tray of food and a large shadow trailing behind her. “I think it would be in poor taste, considering my business quite literally just burned to the ground, but I don’t want to be a subpar host.”
Trystan was surprised. “This is…your house?”
Helena reacted to this question as if Trystan had handed her a dead animal carcass and asked if it was her purse. “Are you mad? Do I look like the sort of woman who sleeps in a gardening shed? I require a feathered pillow and pixie-made central air. Besides, it’s more of a prop closet. Or it was…”
“I’m sorry for the loss of your theater,” Trystan offered, squeezing Sage’s hand when she winced.
Helena waved a hand, though her fingers shook. “I hated the old architecture anyway. That building had far too many ghosts. Besides, what you saved when you used your magic to guard Evie and Fritz…”
Yes. The glow of iridescent light when the beams began to fall, the way the light enveloped him; Fritz rising enough to help both Trystan and Evie away from the building, into the open air.
And in walked the goon in question, looking a little worse for wear with an eyepatch over his missing eye. “Don’t let her fool you. I saw a tear slip free when your magic healed me.” Fritz grinned, elbowing Helena, and Trystan ignored when she shoved at the man with a fond look in her eyes.
Trystan had done that. He’d…he’d saved someone.
An allergic reaction was imminent.
“What happened to Douglas?” Trystan asked, rubbing at his head.
“We’re already searching for the men who did this on Benedict’s orders,” Raphael Fortis said, entering the space fully, oddly holding one of Helena’s shoes in a hand.
“Douglas escaped, by means of aid from one of the villagers. A loyalist, clearly. I have the authority to place them in custody on behalf of the Fortis family. We will find where the coward slinked off to.”
“What of the others in the theater?” Marv asked carefully, appearing as lost as Trystan.
“They escaped out the back exit when the flames began,” Helena chimed in with sad eyes over a set mouth, moving aside from the door for Roland and Marv to join.
“Many of the relics were salvaged.” Roland offered this news to Helena, and she responded to it with a sniff.
“I’ve grown tired of show business in any case. We’ll rebuild…for a new venture.” Helena didn’t appear emotional, but her fingers shook just slightly when she adjusted her skirts.
“We have an excellent magical contractor at the Fortis Fortress that could aid you.” Raphael offered this gruffly, not looking at Helena at all.
“Wonderful. Before we venture into carpentry,” Trystan chimed in, growing tired of observing, though he paused for a moment before he spoke again. “What the fuck are the Fortis brothers doing here?”
“I’m doing what’s right for Rennedawn, unlike every other fucking politician in this greed-fueled nightmare,” Raphael growled.
Sage folded her hands, demurely examining them with fluttering lashes. “He came to confess his love for me, actually.”
“Oi!” Raphael barked, and Trystan snapped, “What?”
But Sage’s blue eyes were glittering when they found his black ones. “I was trying to lighten the mood.”
Trystan narrowed his eyes. “By pissing me off?”
She was unapologetic when she replied. “Yep.”
Raphael turned on his heel. “We’ll leave you two be,” he said as he exited the shed, Helena behind him, rolling her eyes. Marv waved when Roland urged him along, too.
“I wouldn’t dare, Ms. Villain,” Trystan challenged as soon as they were alone, his voice smooth.
“I’ve earned that title.” Sage winced, sheepish as she fiddled with her curls.
His heart felt a bit like she’d reached into his chest and began beating it with a hammer. “Evie. I didn’t mean to—”
“No,” she interrupted. “It’s all right. I don’t mind it. I got scared but I—I think I needed to be scared that way so I could remember.”
“Remember what?” he asked.
She hummed softly. “How brave I am. And, well, I quite like being evil. I always have.” She touched his cheek. “The Villain and The Core Healer Prince.”
Together.
But doomed.