Page 3 of The Heart of a Villain

Rafael’s words register in my mind, and my frown deepens, pulling me back to the present. I complain, “Villains always lose in a story, and the prince gets it all.”

My twin laughs, rubbing his wrists as he finally reaches me, and the stupid crown we found in the observatory tower serves as a reminder of his so-called status.

“Why are you a prince while I’m a villain?”

He winks at me. “Because I’m prettier. Duh!”

Is he serious right now?

We’re twins!

He notices my sour mood and how his explanation only sends more rage through me. I don’t want to be associated with bad men who get defeated by their own stupidity and become consumed by hate so much they see no way out but to lash out, hurting good people. Rafael sighs heavily and then wraps his arms tight around me, squeezing the air out of me.

He opens his mouth, probably to say one more smart-ass comment, when George snaps his fingers, motioning with his hand toward the narrow road leading to our castle. “Let’s go, boys. I think it’s time.”

William exhales in relief, tugging at his cravat and stomping loudly—to let off some steam, I’m sure. I march away, leaving our butlers behind us, while Rafael quickly follows after me, catching up in two strides.

“Rush,” he calls my name, but I ignore him, too furious and worried about Mom to humor his make-believe roles and nicknames that always suck for me. Sometimes Rafael tends to forget I’m not a secondhand citizen in this household. We’re twins. I’m not beneath him. “Rush!”

My raised hand does nothing to deter him, and he hooks his arm through mine, locking us in an embrace as our paces sync, and we speed up together, rapidly moving back home. “Villains are misunderstood heroes,” he says, and I roll my eyes, already preparing for his warped explanation regarding his point. Even our eleven tutors get fed up with his speeches because no one can ever prove him wrong or outsmart him during a debate.

I guess our father didn’t anticipate that when he decided to start our education at three years old and continued to push our boundaries, adding more studies on top of one another.

At least, I don’t know any other kids around who speak four languages fluently and read ancient literature before bedtime.

“Save it, Rafael.”

Of course he doesn’t listen to me, which earns a chuckle from George.

Figures. He’s always been his favorite.

“Villains are truthful, cunning, and they do not care about anyone but themselves. They are selfish, greedy, and usually have a strong motive to hate the good guys.”

“Is that why they die in every story?”

Why is this even a discussion?

Villains suck, period.

Rafael huffs. “You shouldn’t base your thoughts on villains and heroes by what we read. Good and evil have gray in them. You never know who carries more hate. The villain or the hero. Besides, there is an appeal. Like in your favorite fairy tale.” He waits a bit and adds, “Beauty and the Beast.”

I regret mentioning that little fact to him. The only reason I even ended up reading it was to practice my French, and Mom gave me the book, warning me to study it hard and never do as the Beast did.

Imprisoning an unwilling woman in his castle and demanding something that should only be freely given. Love.

However, what struck me the most in the story was how lonely Beast was that he had no other choice but to blackmail someone to stay with him.

Sometimes, that’s how I feel on this island with my twin, who rarely understands me.

Alone.

And all his love in the world cannot fix this feeling.

“The Beast is the villain… but is he really?” he questions as if we’re taking a quiz.

“Technically, there are no true villains in that story. Every action can be explained,” I reply quietly.

Can the Beast be called a villain for wanting to break the curse caused by his stupidity?

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