Page 13 of Reign

Mother’s eyes darted to me, as if I had control over Avice’s tongue. “That’s a lie,” she said firmly, gently stroking Henry’s hair. With each brush, his frown softened just a little.

“Sleep,” Mother whispered, then stood. “Now—good night, Finn,” she added as she ushered me out of the boys’ chamber.

Mother guided me over to the fireplace and handed me a mound of warm blankets. “Avice has the same strong views about magical folk as her father, doesn’t she?” she asked.

I nodded. “Sometimes I worry she preaches it louder than him because she craves his approval.”

As she leaned in close, mother mumbled, “You haven’t told her that you’re a—”

“No, of course not,” I snapped defensively.

It seemed Mother could always sense when I was flirting with the idea of doing something she’d disapprove of.

I shuffled into my modest chamber, with Mother following, carrying a lit candlestick.

“Being a young woman’s difficult,” she continued as she placed the candle beside my bedstead. “You’ll never receive the same recognition as your male counterparts, simply because you’re not a man.”

“I understand the order of things,” I replied, recalling my earlier conversation with Finn. It wasn’t a revelation when he said I’d never be a great blacksmith because I was a woman, but hearing it out loud still stung.

Mother laughed softly. “You do not—if you did, you’d be learning how to maintain a household, not aiding your brother in the smithy—”

“Finn couldn’t complete the difficult forging tasks without me,” I interrupted. “I exist to uphold the family name from beneath the shadow of my brother.”

“I’m sure he appreciates your help. He will certainly miss it,” she replied.

“Miss it?” My brow pinched tight as I tried to make sense of her words. “What do you mean?”

“You’re twenty-one. I was married with one child—and I was pregnant with you—when I was your age. When your father and the knights return from the far shores, I suspect he’ll offer your hand to the man who accepts the smallest dowry.”

I flung the blankets onto the floor. “I won’t become the wife of a villager,” I said firmly.

Mother shushed me and pointed toward the boys’ chamber.

Above all else, I was a woman. I knew that the anvil wasn’t my most valuable tool—it was my body. I’d spent my adolescence in defiance of this notion, but as I grew older, I knew I couldn’t escape it.

“I want to be a blacksmith like Finn,” I declared.

“I had wild dreams when I was young and naive, like you,” Mother said, scooping up the bedding from the floor. “But you’ll learn your place. You’ll marry a villager, bear his children, and live a life neither satisfying nor disappointing—like most people.”

“I’m not you,” I reminded her.

“With every year, you’ll learn you’re more like your mother than you could’ve ever imagined,” she said, forcing a half grin.

I sighed and climbed onto my chaff-filled mattress, the coarse straw pricking at the back of my thighs as I tried to find a comfortable position.

“I appreciate the herbs,” Mother said as she passed me the blankets, offering a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her tired eyes. “But don’t go wandering in the forest again. All it takes is one villager seeing you alone to spark an accusation of witchcraft—and that would end your life.”

I nodded, though I didn’t mean it. Dog would need feeding.

The Black Shuck.

A week passed before I saw Dog again. In that time, good news had been as scarce as sunlight. Rumors swept through the Wetlands faster than wildfire, claiming that more men had died in a single week at war than there were days in a year. When a knight appeared on our doorstep, I knew the fighting was far from over.

I heard the clanging of his armor before I saw him. At first, I assumed it was a customer arriving at the smithy with some heavy iron for us to fix, but when I opened the door, I was startled to find a man who looked more metal than flesh standing in the doorway. He stepped forward, his boot crushing my favorite bunch of forget-me-nots. I suppose they couldn’t hide forever.

“Is this where Finn Smith resides?” the knight inquired, his chain-mail hood clinking as he tried to peer past me into the cottage.

Before I could answer, Finn appeared.