Page 74 of Reign

Leaning in close, she whispered, “A wizard?”

I’d once believed that sharing secrets tore people apart, but now I knew that was a lie. My close bonds with both Fitzroy and Bash had begun when I’d told the truth Mother made me swear to never utter.

I gave Margaret another nod, confirming Fitzroy’s wizardry, before wondering if the other women concealed magic in their veins.

“Are the other ladies witches?” I asked quietly.

Margaret’s eyes narrowed into slits—understandably wary.

“I cannot speak on behalf of Jane or Emma,” she said as she rose to her feet. “Come, let’s go talk to them.”

I quickly caught her arm to hold her in place. “No one knows I’m a woman,” I murmured.

“I understand, love,” she replied with a sympathetic smile. “Women do what needs must to survive.”

As I took one final glance around her dreary bedchamber, I knew she understood.

“Emma,” Margaret called out as I followed her into the dark hallway lined with three doors. “Emma?”

The middle one opened a crack.

Emma peered out, hiding her body behind the splintering wood. “What is it?” she asked while wiping spittle off her chin. “I’m busy.”

“Once you’re done, your services will be required in Jane’s chamber,” Margaret said.

Emma tutted peevishly, while she reached around the door, revealing she was in the nude. Her perky breasts jiggled as she placed a feather-topped hat on the handle.

“When I’m working, don’t come knocking,” Emma snapped. “He was just about to come—now I’ve got to rile him up again,” she continued, her frustration evident, before sharply slamming the door shut.

As I tried to recall where I’d seen that fluttering feather before, my ears pricked to the sound of Bash’s voice.

Through the parchment-thin walls, I heard every word.

“It doesn’t look impressive, but it goes deep,” he murmured.

A wave of nausea hit me as I worried that he’d succumbed to his desires.

“Jane,” Margaret called, raising her fist to knock on the wood.

But impatience got the better of me. I nudged her aside and pushed the door open.

Stepping into the candlelit bedchamber, relief washed over me at the sight of a fully clothed Bash perched on the bedstead. His linen sleeve was rolled up as he showed the prettiest prostitute a thick scar on his burly bicep.

“That’s why I’ll never gamble with pirates again.” Bash finished his story before looking in my direction.

“Sorry, love,” Margaret said to Jane, before shooting me a glare. “Can we interrupt, or should we come back?”

“Come back,” Bash replied. “I’ve a few more war wounds to show—unless, of course, you’d all like to see them?”

Jane laughed beneath her breath, though I couldn’t quite understand what she found so amusing in his words.

Before Jane could flirt once more, I caught Bash’s eye. “We’ve more helping hands,” I said, grinning—because I was right.

The whores were witches.

Margaret explained to Jane that their magical assistance was needed to win the war, while I took a seat beside Bash.

He squeezed my leg, gaining my undivided attention.