Page 158 of Reign

I laughed bitterly at my own naivete—for ever believing that he cared, and for thinking I should let go of Bash—the man who stirred feelings in me I’d never known—simply because Fitzroy claimed that he needed me. But I suppose I’d grown dependent on him, too.

I was nothing but a naive, feckless idiot.

Frustration eventually boiled over. I furiously pulled at my hair realizing he’d lured me into bed with false compliments, only to later use our intimacy against me. He’d played me better than that harp he plucked at court.

It wasn’t long before I grew tired of overthinking, and my anger dulled. Not knowing where else to go, I settled by the bonfire, ignoring the snide comments and glances cast in my direction. Once the stares finally ceased, I grabbed a used tankard from the dirt, marched to the communal keg, filled it to the brim, and drank in vain pursuit of numbness.

For what felt like hours, I stared into the flames, each flicker rekindling memories of the Isle’s unfolding tragedies. Occasionally, I paused my reflection to refill my tankard.

As the night wore on, men staggered off to bed, leaving only a few stragglers behind. Among these was Billy—clutching a tankard of ale in one hand, his expression solemn.

“I thought she valued me, but alas! That evil witch kept me blind for her own gain,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

The man beside him patted his shoulder as Billy drained his drink.

Poor goblin.

A gentle tap atop my head startled me. I turned, hoping to see Bash, but it was Finn. I released a sigh of disappointment.

“Good eve,” he said, clashing his tankard against mine.

I took a hearty swig of my bitter brew, secretly wishing it were wine. It was astounding how swiftly I’d grown accustomed to the comforts of noble life.

“Where have you been?” I asked, realizing, as Finn teetered slightly on the stool beside me, that he was as drunk as me.

“I went to the Anchor with some of the other soldiers,” he slurred.

I gave him a dubious look.

“We were celebrating the return of magic to Lyonesse,” he explained. “Nearly half the men are wizards or hail from families blessed with magic. It seems more unusual to lack abilities—though I know naught of spells myself. I’m quite the useless wizard.”

“Did Bash go?” I asked.

Finn shook his head. “No, I haven’t seen him all evening.” After a pause, his tone grew wistful. “But I did see a woman working at the Anchor with hair the same warm hue as Avice’s…” His voice trailed off in a deep sigh before he turned to me. “Where have you spent your eve?” he asked, changing the subject.

I exhaled, fragments of Fitzroy’s cruel words echoing in my mind. “For a while, I was with Fitzroy, but mostly I’ve been here, alone.”

“Are you fond of Fitzroy?” Finn asked.

Had he asked me that this very morning, I might have blushed, but now simmering anger bubbled beneath my surface. How could I have fallen for his charm, even while knowing he was selfish and spiteful?

I shrugged. “I think he’ll be a good king, that’s all.”

Finn sighed with relief. “That’s good to hear.”

“Why? Did you not wish your sister to be associated with a prince?”

“No,” he replied. “I only hoped you hadn’t brought Bash more hurt. I spent the days when you were absent assuring him that I’d never seen you more enamored of any man—that I was certain you’d reconcile upon your return. Then you came back, and the would-be king had his hands upon your waist in front of many men, as if claiming you as his own. You made me appear a liar.”

I thumped him with my fist. “I belong to no man—especially not Fitzroy. He’s incapable of caring for anything beyond his own ego.”

I was on the verge of confiding in Finn every cruel detail of my argument with Fitzroy—but I chose to neck the remainder of my drink, knowing I’d regret my candor come morning.

“Then he’ll make a great ruler,” Finn quipped.

“Speaking of rulers,” I said with a wry belch, “I met Regina.”

Finn leaned in close. “And what’s she like?” he asked, his voice brimming with curiosity.