Page 76 of Reign

Knowing my words would bring no comfort, I pressed on. “I’ve a favor to ask—from the prince himself.”

“Fitzroy?” Jane asked, a dazzle in her doe eyes at the mention of him.

I nodded, knowing that though his lips were tempting, if she heard the words that came out of them, that flicker would be doused.

“If only he was as kind as he’s handsome,” Emma mumbled, fiddling with her plaits as she spoke. “When he visited the Anchor, he asked if the fishy smell in Cambas came from the docks—or between my legs.”

Bash chuckled, and so did I. Fitzroy certainly had a way with words.

“He has an awful sense of humor,” I lied, knowing Fitzroy was being purposefully cruel. “But he has a great battle plan. He wants to create a secret army of wizards and witches. And I suspect you know some powerful incantations.”

Margaret folded her arms, scowling in suspicion. “What makes you say that?” she asked me.

“Was it not you three I saw casting spells on the cliffs?”

Margaret nodded slowly.

I patted Bash on the leg, ensuring he heard that I was right. “You brought down many wyverns,” I added.

Jane slowly tilted her head. “I’m willing to help.”

“So am I,” Emma announced eagerly.

Margaret remained skeptical, but I could sense she possessed the greatest magical knowledge of the trio—a wisdom I was determined not to leave without.

“You promised to repay us for our chivalry,” I said, extending my hand. “Then we’re even.”

For a moment, Margaret hesitated, then deeply sighed. “Fine,” she said, clasping my hand in a firm shake.

“Do you know any charms that could help strengthen an army?” I asked.

Margaret nodded. “I’ve a grimoire—an heirloom filled with spells my ancestors recorded over many generations.”

“Good,” I said, excitement kindling at the thought of sharing my discovery with Fitzroy. “After our disastrous last battle, we need every bit of protection you can muster.”

“Sebastian told me about the invasion,” Jane said, her lashes fluttering as she held Bash’s gaze longer than I liked. “He said it was bloody.”

I froze. No one—not even Fletcher—had ever called Bash, Sebastian.

“Who’s Sebastian?” I asked with a teasing smile, though jealousy coursed through me.

Why had he introduced himself to her by his full name?

“Jane?” Mr. Bednot bellowed from beyond the door.

I held my breath—fearing he was seconds away from bursting in.

An assertive knock rattled the wood. “Jane,” he repeated, his tone sterner this time.

Both Jane and Emma looked to Margaret—who was clearly the top of their pecking order.

With a flick of her head, Margaret told Jane—without words—to answer the call.

Tentatively, Jane edged toward the door. “Yes?” she called through the keyhole.

“Are you alone?” Mr. Bednot barked back.

Incapable of making her own choices, Jane turned to her puppeteer.