Page 124 of Reign

Regina shook her head. “She may appear that way, but I assure you, these household spirits are merely good at following orders.”

A nearby goblinette glanced at me while she cleared empty plates, her sallow face crinkling into a half smile before she resumed her duties.

“What about Billy?” I asked, turning to the glassy-eyed goblin stuffing his mouth with boiled cabbage.

Billy slammed down his silver spoon. “My mother was a goblinette, but my father was a puck,” he stated, defending his place at the table. “A foreseer of good and bad fortune.”

Curious, I asked, “What does a puck look like?”

Before Billy answered, something thwacked my shin beneath the table. I glanced past the feast to meet Fitzroy’s warning glare. Shooting him a foul look in return, I realized my blunder—I’d forgotten Billy was blind.

Billy shrugged, unoffended. “No one knows. They are shape-shifters who only reveal their true form when in the presence of other pucks.”

Despite his claims of mixed lineage, I was unconvinced that Billy was anything more than a goblin.

“Are you certain your soldiers would turn against their King?” Wolver pressed, steering the conversation back to battle plans.

“My army trusts me,” Fitzroy declared, raising his goblet for a refill. As the goblin approached with the decanter, Fitzroy snatched it from the creature’s hand, filling his cup to the brim before setting the jug within easy reach. “They’re brave and loyal, yet terrified of being associated with magic. If I revealed that I was a wizard and showed them there’s no shame in it, I believe more men would come forward and proudly claim the same.”

I kicked Fitzroy’s leg, irked that he was regurgitating my words as his own. The corner of his lip twitched—a subtle acknowledgment of my annoyance.

“How many witches and wizards do you think are hiding in Lyonesse?” Regina asked, her tone commanding everyone’s attention.

“Many,” Fitzroy answered, his confidence unwavering.

I nodded in agreement. “I recently discovered that even my own brother’s a wizard.”

“Finn’s a wizard?” Fitzroy asked, surprise flickering across his features.

I nodded.

“Why didn’t you invite him on the trip to the Anchor?” he pressed.

“I’ve spent my life living in my brother’s shadow. I wanted this one thing for myself,” I admitted, my voice faltering as I realized how petty I sounded.

Regina studied me for a moment, then nodded sympathetically. “I understand.”

I smiled in gratitude—if anyone could relate to the rivalry between Finn and me, it was Regina. Her resentment toward her own brother had blemished her life.

“Queen Regina and I are the last sane witches on the Isle,” Elizebeth said, sighing softly at the confession. “There are a few decrepit sorcerers, but they’re about as useful as candles without wicks.”

“That surprises me,” Fitzroy remarked, pouring more wine into his cup. “It appears I have a stronger army of magical folk in Cambas than you do on the Isle, Your Highness.”

His smug smile disappeared into his goblet as he drank.

Anger simmered within me—Fitzroy had brazenly claimed credit for assembling the army I’d risked my life to build.

“Is that how you pushed back the selkies?” Regina asked, her gaze narrowing.

Fitzroy nodded while I seethed.

This was reminiscent of my days in the family smithy, where Finn took credit for my hard work. And now, once again, a man had stolen my praise from right beneath my nose.

Regina raised a brow. “I’d have thought my brother would’ve had you beheaded for meddling with magic,” she said, her words laced with bitterness. “Or has he become more lenient?”

“This army’s my secret,” Fitzroy replied.

Curiosity lit up Regina’s violet eyes. “How did you uncover so many wizards in hiding?”