Page 87 of Reign

Finn exhaled again. “I do,” he said, holding my gaze. “I’ve mastered hiding who I truly am—so well that sometimes even I forget the secrets I keep.”

I chuckled, believing Finn was as transparent as fresh water. “What secrets could you possibly have that I don’t already know?”

Finn hesitated, drawing a deep breath as he nervously scanned our surroundings. Leaning close, he whispered, “I am—I have—”

“Spit it out,” I urged impatiently.

Finn swallowed hard.

“Wizard,” he whispered at last. “I am one.”

The weight of his confession struck like a blow to the chest. My entire life, I’d believed I was the only soul in the Wetlands hexed—or perhaps blessed—with magic. Unbeknownst to me, I’d lived under the same thatched roof as someone who understood my woes. My own brother.

Finn cleared his throat. “Did you hear me?” he asked, his voice barely louder than the lap of the tide.

I shook my head, convinced I’d misheard him.

“I’m a wizard,” Finn repeated. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. Mother made me swear I’d never burden you with my curse.”

“It’s not a curse,” I snapped, turning to him. “Thou’me’he ilk, bropar.” I am the same, brother.

A lump lodged itself in my throat. Tears welled in my eyes.

Finn looked utterly mystified. “Thee’ar a wicce?” You are a witch? His lower lip trembled.

I nodded. He pulled me into his arms, and I buried my face in his shoulder, weeping like a child.

“How could Mother lie?” I choked out, resentment tightening my chest. “She stuck an unnecessary wedge between us.”

“Don’t blame Mother,” Finn murmured, rubbing my back as I struggled to steady my breath. “She does what she must to keep us safe. If blame is owed, it belongs to Father—his views on magical folk mirror his Lord’s.”

I nodded as my sobs dwindled to mere sniffles. Finn was right—my anger was misdirected. The true enemy was those who vilified magic.

For a while, we sat in silence, but my mind compiled a list of names—those who despised what I was: a witch. The Lord, my own father, Red, Adder, Godwin…and Avice. My thoughts snagged on that last name.

“If you ran away with Avice, were you going to tell her you were a wizard?”

Finn sighed. “Eventually. Sometimes I wonder if she was also hiding the same secret.”

He watched the misty sea fret as it crept inland, studying the shore as though searching the drifting fog for answers.

“She wasn’t,” I said, knowing he deserved the truth.

“How can you be so certain?”

“She believed that magic was the root of all evil. If she’d ever learned that you or I bore it in our blood, she would’ve betrayed us—told her father—and had us hanged.”

Finn shook his head. “Avice wouldn’t have done that.”

“Yes, she would’ve.”

“Why are you so intent on proving you knew Avice better than me?” Finn’s irritation crept into his voice.

“Because I did.”

“No, you didn’t,” he said firmly. “You never knew her the way I did.”

“Yet she was going to marry another man,” I retorted, my words sharp with spite.