Page 165 of Reign

Both Bash and Fletcher eyed the witches, as if expecting them to query why Smith—a man—would sport a gown.

Yet no one seemed surprised. I suspected Margaret had already revealed what she’d uncovered about me the night I learned of their witchery.

“Smith’s a woman,” Bash finally announced.

The witches burst into cackles.

“We already knew,” Jane said, smiling warmly at me.

“How?” Bash asked, his brows pinching as if he couldn’t understand how they’d seen something he hadn’t.

“A woman’s intuition,” Margaret replied, her thin lips tugging into a one-sided smirk.

Hoping to distract her before she disclosed too much, I retrieved the parchment from my cloak pocket and slid it across the table.

“Fitzroy asked if you could review his battle plan,” I explained.

Margaret’s eyes lit up, clearly pleased that Fitzroy once again sought her counsel.

“When does he require my opinion?” she asked.

“Sunrise at the latest,” I said. “War begins tomorrow.”

“Against Regina?” Jane gasped, clutching her bosom like her heart had stopped.

“And King James,” I clarified. “The knights and soldiers at Cambas—and the fae and elves from the Isle—have planned a mutiny. Fitzroy has laid it all out. What he expects from you three is detailed here.” I placed the scroll on the table. “If we win, magic will return to Lyonesse.”

My heart fluttered as the words came out of my mouth.

Margaret unrolled the parchment as Jane leaned over her shoulder to read its contents.

“We suspected something was afoot,” Margaret said. “Emma heard a prophecy of an impending battle and the rise of a new ruler.”

Emma cleared her throat, squeezed her eyelids shut, and recited the prophecy from memory:

“Soldiers march to the beat of war drums,

As the Battle of Kinfolk this way comes.

All will lose, but one will prevail,

A new ruler will reign, that all shall hail.”

Her words gave no hint as to whether Fitzroy or Regina would emerge victorious in the end.

“Did you say that Regina hears prophecies like me?” Emma asked, her bright eyes wide with wonder.

I nodded. “But she also sees visions.”

Billy sighed, sorrow thick in his knobbly throat. “Only because she used me like a vessel,” he said, snatching up his tankard with his bony fingers and draining it in one noisy gulp.

A thunderous belch followed as he slammed the empty mug onto the table.

“Without channeling through me, she couldn’t see possible futures.”

“Do you think it’ll work on Emma?” Margaret asked.

Billy shrugged, offering her his spindly hand. “We can try.”