Page 5 of Reign

“Wretched piece of iron,” Finn muttered under his breath.

He slammed the chisel down and tucked his dark hair behind his ears.

“Do you want someone who’s actually good at forging to do it?” I teased.

Finn didn’t reply. Instead, he grumpily ducked out of his long leather apron and threw it at me.

I caught it and immediately put it on. “Yes, please, my astonishingly talented sister,” I said in a deep voice, mimicking Finn. “I know your mother taught you manners, but you seem to have misplaced them,” I continued, teasing him further.

“Finally, you’re back,” he said, heaving himself onto his feet. “I’ve been waiting for your return since you left this morning.” His tired groan told me he’d been struggling with this for hours.

Finn bolted upright at the sight of my companion. “Avice,” he said, stepping toward her.

Henry looked away from his toys. “Avice!” he squealed.

He leapt into her arms, shaking with excitement.

Finn laughed as Avice crouched down to embrace Henry, stroking his fair hair while he beamed at her with his bucktoothed smile.

“It’s nice to see you,” Finn said. Just the sight of Avice brightened his mood as swiftly as a branding iron plunged into a red-hot flame.

I gathered the tools for this task, selecting the sharpest file and the roughest grindstone. Avice sat Henry on her lap, and Finn knelt before them on the straw-covered floor. He rested one hand on Avice’s thigh and clutched Henry’s in the other. They looked like a family.

As I took a seat at the anvil, Avice entertained my brothers.

“Some believe wizards are the offspring of a human and a soulless entity,” she whispered, as though sharing a secret, sending the hairs at the nape of my neck standing. “Others swear they roam the kingdom, ordained by a witch to spread the black magic that riddles the far shores. One thing’s certain about these depraved beasts—they infect Lyonesse with merciless calamities faster than a honey fungus.”

Henry gasped as worry took root within me. Had Avice chosen that fable to sow a seed? Did she believe that by helping Dog I was allowing magic to seep back into the land—where it would sprout, bloom, and eventually overrun the realm?

“Are you trying to give him nightmares?” Finn asked.

I peered over my shoulder to see him beaming at her, and she returned a coquettish smile.

As I resumed my work, I pushed my worries into the dark crevices of my mind—where there was no light to grow. Mother’s constant reminders that magical association was deadly had planted an unease within me.

“Of course,” Avice replied, making Finn chuckle.

“You’re a talented storyteller,” he told her.

She giggled. “Your charming words might work on the girls who pick berries in the fields, but I’m used to powerful men trying to get in my father’s favor for a chance to court me.”

“One day, I’ll be a blacksmith for the King. Just you wait,” Finn said.

“I’ll be wed by then—”

“Forgive me. I forgot that the son of a blacksmith doesn’t rank high enough for the Lady of the Wetlands,” Finn replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

I glanced behind me to find Avice standing above Finn, with Henry by her side.

“You should practice my soon-to-be title—Princess of Lyonesse,” she playfully remarked, offering her hand. Without hesitation, Finn took it.

I turned back to the metal in my palms, feeling a twinge of jealousy at their fondness for one another.

“Would you like to come to the tavern with me and Niamh tonight?” she asked.

I didn’t have to stop gliding the blade against the grindstone to know Finn was gleefully nodding.

I tutted. “I don’t want him there. He’s insufferable after four tankards.”