Page 101 of Reign

Without a second thought, I pried myself from his mouth, stopping his teasing fingers in their tracks.

“I need to tell you something,” I said, slipping off his knee, and reclaiming my stool.

“What?” Bash asked, his palm gently caressing my cheek as concern flickered in his eyes.

I drew a steady, courageous breath, ready to confess. “I…”

Before I could finish, a clang shattered the moment. My head snapped toward the noise, and there stood Finn at the entrance to the tent. His eyes darted between our flustered faces before locking onto mine.

Bash cleared his throat and stumbled to his feet. “Good eve,” he said.

“Can I talk to my brother alone?” Finn asked.

He didn’t have to press—Bash was already heading for the exit before Finn had finished speaking.

Finn shook his head in disbelief, his mouth opening as if to speak, but all that escaped was a disappointed sigh.

“What?” I uttered, returning to the anvil.

“What?” Finn mimicked me. “What do you mean, what?”

I picked up the whetstone, trying to ignore him, but Finn strode over and snatched the file from my hand.

“Am I not allowed to make friends?” I asked, attempting to reach for it.

Finn held it above his head, tantalizingly out of reach. “I’ve never stroked the faces of my friends,” he remarked pointedly.

I shrugged, unwilling to admit the affection I felt for Bash.

“I was hoping to make amends with you,” Finn continued, finally handing back the file. “I didn’t mean it when I said I wished you’d died so Avice could live. I was angry because you were right. If Avice had known I was a wizard, she would’ve had me hanged—the Lord raised her on lies.” His lip curled as his fists clenched. “I hope one day he’s held accountable for the hatred he’s incited.”

I gave him a solemn nod. “So do I.”

“I understand your reasons for pretending to be me,” he said as he took my shoulder in his grip. “Being a man ensures your safety—especially while the Lord searches for Niamh. What I cannot understand is why you’d risk your life and tell the carpenter you’re a woman. I never took you for a fool.”

“He doesn’t know,” I murmured, defending my unfoolish status.

Finn gave me a puzzled look. “Pardon?” he asked, though I doubted he needed clarification.

“He’s not privy,” I replied, quickly turning my attention back to the blade.

“How do you think he’ll react when he discovers—” Finn began, then cleared the fury from his throat. “Don’t you think he’ll be deeply hurt when he learns that you’re a woman?”

“I’m trying not to think about it,” I mumbled into the blade as I resumed my work.

“Poor man. You’ve led him to believe you’re something you’re not,” he said, chiding me in a patronizing tone, like a father scolding a child. “That’s deceitful.”

I scooted my stool around to face him. “I act no differently here than I did back in Green Vale,” I retorted.

Finn pointed an accusing finger at me. “He thinks you’re a blacksmith named Finn, but you’re just a woman named Niamh.”

I froze, taking a moment to digest his words.

“Just a woman,” I repeated, my voice breathless with shock at his audacity.

Finn shook his head. “That’s not what—”

“I taught you how to be a decent blacksmith, helping you maintain Father’s legacy without any praise,” I interrupted, uninterested in his backpedaling. I grasped the blade I’d been filing and pointed its tip at him. “I sat with you for hours, painstakingly going over the simplest iron-forging tasks because you couldn’t grasp them.”