Page 4 of Reign

Avice sighed. “I fear that Finn will be conscripted into the army. I cannot bear the thought of him at war, especially this one.”

I squeezed her hand, trying to reassure us both that he wouldn’t become another fallen soldier. But I knew that if he went to battle, he’d die.

“Sometimes, I daydream about running away from the Wetlands,” Avice said. “Living in the lavish Walled City. In my fantasy, I teach embroidery and live in a modest lodging with a man I love.”

She brushed her outstretched fingers against the tallgrass growing around the tree stumps.

“I know I’m more fortunate than most, but this life I’ve had thrust upon me still has its challenges,” she continued. “There’s so much expectation.”

“If you asked Finn to run away with you, he would’ve left yesterday,” I told her, certain this was true.

She smiled as raindrops rolled off the leaves above, catching on her eyelashes.

“But you cannot go,” I said, cutting short a dream she could never have. “If anything happens to you—if you disappear—your father will send his knights to hunt you down. You’re marrying a prince, and Finn will wed another villager. That is, unfortunately, the order of things.”

I found some solace in knowing that everyone was disappointed in the life they’d been given. It made me feel less alone in my sorrow and self-pity.

“Maybe I won’t follow the order of things,” she said. “Maybe I’ll drink one too many ales tonight and beg Finn to leave with me. If we both disappear like snow beneath the beating sun, don’t look for us. Just know we’re happier than we’re supposed to be.”

I nodded, believing that would never happen.

“Why are you fearful that Finn will be forced to join the fight?” I asked, worried about my brother’s future.

“I’m not privy to his exact plans, but I know King James has been writing letters to the lords in his Order nightly,” she said, referring to the secret council established by the sovereign—united under his directive to eradicate magic. “My father’s been more reserved lately. I think he fears that the Dark Days aren’t over—that we’re in the eye of the storm.” She gazed out at the sea of green. “It’s too quiet.”

I traced gentle circles on her palm in a silent attempt to console her. “My mother said that during the previous king’s reign, Lyonesse was at peace—a place where magic and mortal lived side by side.”

Avice huffed, her eyes narrowing. “That was before the Dark Days—before Regina twisted magic into something sinister.”

Mother had told me stories of Regina, King James’s sister—once beloved across Lyonesse. She traveled the land, casting spells to aid her subjects, making spring harvests bountiful and shielding crops from winter’s blight. But now, her name ignited fear. Magic was prohibited, and she had long been banished with it.

“How can you be so certain all magic is evil?” I asked, thinking of how Regina’s rumored kindness seemed the opposite. “We’ve never even seen it.”

Avice’s mouth twisted—her eyes darkened. “My sister would still be here if it weren’t for magic.” Her fists clenched. “That alone proves it’s wickedness.”

Before Avice was born, her elder sister vanished without a trace. Her father blamed sorcery, enforcing the strictest anti-magic laws in the realm, while the loss shattered her mother, leaving her catatonic. Raised in the shadow of a sister stolen by dark forces, Avice learned to despise magic.

“And—how else can you explain the invasion in Cambas?” she continued, her anguish softening slightly.

“What exactly is invading?” I asked, struggling to separate the truth from the old wives’ tales.

Avice hesitated. “My father tells me very little—he doesn’t want to worry me—but I overheard him talking to a knight. He said Regina plans to match every pint of magical blood spilled by taking the lives of everyone who stands between her and the throne.”

My stomach knotted at the notion of a witch, pillaging the land with sorcery—something I knew hardly anything about.

“How can we win a war when we don’t even understand our enemy?” I pressed, wondering whether mortal men, armed with so little knowledge, could ever hope to hold their ground against arcane power.

“We cannot,” Avice murmured. “If we knew more about magic, we’d know how to destroy it all.”

As she spoke, I wondered if we would ever see the Wetlands through the same eyes. She saw violence as the solution to fear, like her father. But I wanted something different. Something closer to harmony.

Once the sleet lightened, we hurried to the smithy before the clouds cried again. Finn would undoubtedly be waiting for my help, and Avice was eager to accompany me to my family’s workshop.

Little lilac forget-me-nots grew beside the doorstep, and I cherished them because they were survivors. They’d weathered countless harsh winters, their delicate petals shaking more vigorously than a town crier’s handbell. Many had been plucked from the soil, their sap stolen to stick feathers to arrows for warring archers. I was thankful that this little bunch had managed to remain hidden.

As we stepped over the threshold and into the smithy, the comforting sound of clanging greeted us.

Finn was hunched over the anvil, with my younger brother Henry sitting at his feet, a stump doll in either hand—his fair brows pinched as he mumbled a make-believe conversation between the carved pieces of wood.