Page 79 of Reign

Bash stifled a chuckle, and I clamped my hand against my mouth, trying to contain my laughter and not make our presence known.

We kept looking at one another, now grinning at our own immaturity. The spark was still there, but it had softened from blazing heat to a comforting flame. And I realized, in that moment, there was no company I preferred more than Bash’s.

“I thought Lord Edric had left Cambas?” Jane asked—her voice no longer laced with lust, only curiosity. She carried on their prior conversation as if he hadn’t been inside of her mere moments before. “I heard he took his knights and nobility with him to reside somewhere farther from the war.”

I peeked out once more to see Jane slipping back into her chemise, her hair still tousled by the knight’s hungry hands.

The knight shook his head while stepping into his breeches.

“I’m not from around here,” he said, grabbing his tunic. “I serve the Lord of the Wetlands.”

It was as if all the air had been sucked out of the closet. I thought nothing could make my heart race faster than Bash’s touch—yet I was wrong.

“I’m doing a tour of Lyonesse, putting up wanted posters,” he told Jane, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a scroll. “Have you ever heard of the Black Shuck?”

“Um—no, I don’t think so,” she said, stepping closer to look at the parchment he unraveled.

There it was again. That awful caricature of my furry companion.

“Big, ugly dog. Killed my Lord’s daughter—that’s both of his kindred gone. His eldest disappeared during the Dark Days, and now his youngest’s face was torn off by this ravaged beast. Such a pretty girl—both were,” he said, his voice trailing off as if recalling their complexions. “Had fiery hair, just like yours.”

I’d been so consumed by life in Cambas, it had been long since I’d thought of Avice’s face. Inside this rickety closet, I could see Avice’s face clearly—even remembering the way her cheeks would dimple when she smiled. Quickly, that image gave way to something darker. The last time I saw her—eyes freed from their sockets, sitting among the grass like peeled eggs. Her shredded skin and broken bones laid out like meat in a butcher’s shop.

“I always envy those folk,” Jane said, snapping me back to the present. “The finely bred. But when I hear tales like that, it makes me glad I’m just another commoner.”

The knight chuckled as he collected his chain mail.

“Speaking of common-born folk, I’m also on the lookout for a missing villager. Haven’t seen a woman—about your height, long brown locks?”

I held my breath.

Jane shook her head. “I’ve seen no women but the ones working here since the war began,” she said—half paying attention as she picked up a comb and raked it through the knots. “Why are you looking for her?”

“My Lord believes she will know what happened to his daughter. But she’s not been seen for months—disappeared into the heath.”

“You think she’s still alive?” Jane asked, turning her attention from untangling her hair to the knight. “A woman, out on the misty moors in winter. Doesn’t take a smart man to assume she’s frozen to death.”

Her big, round eyes looked pained, as if she could feel the biting chill herself. “Bless her,” she murmured, clutching the comb to her heart as if she wished she could’ve shared her heat.

The knight chuckled again, this time deep and sinister. “If you knew what my Lord has planned should she return, you’d think being claimed by the frost was merciful.”

My entire body shuddered as I imagined what could be awaiting me. Was it hanging, beheading, or being burnt at the stake?

“What does he want to do?” Jane asked, her voice laced with intrigue.

“Let’s just say, even if she knows naught about the Shuck or his dead daughter, she’d be confessing to it all just to end the suffering,” the knight said, his tone calmer than you’d expect for a man talking about torture.

Dread gripped me—compelling me to pray to the gods and ask them for protection from an ill fate. I glanced up, hoping to see a sign that the divine were watching over me. Instead, I met Bash’s eye.

“Are you all right?” he whispered—his brows pinched with worry.

I assumed Bash thought I was struggling to overhear the grim future of my missing sister. When I was actually struggling to decide which was my deadliest secret: my hidden witchhood or womanhood.

I gave him an unconvincing nod, and he responded by slipping his hands around my back and enfolding me in a reassuring embrace.

He pulled me close, and I rested my head upon his chest. For a heartbeat, I wondered if this was too forward—if he’d find it odd. But before I could spiral, his chin was resting atop my head. I closed my eyes, feeling false safety, momentarily forgetting I was the quarry of the Lord’s hunt.

“Well, I hope you find the outlaws,” Jane said. “Though I think you’ll have more luck finding a four-leaf clover.”