Page 10 of Reign

“He’s a drunk,” Finn retorted, but I wondered if there was any truth in his sloshed ramblings.

Todd narrowed his eyes, clearly offended.

Adder tutted. “The Lord isn’t a wizard. There’s nothing he hates more than magic—not that I blame him.” He leaned back, folding his arms. “After all, it’s believed his shrew of a daughter was taken by Regina. Or one of her henchmen.”

Avice scowled, then nodded in agreement.

“You cannot be certain though, eh?” Todd muttered.

“During the Dark Days,” Adder cut in, “a witch killed my elder sister.”

I fought the urge to sigh, knowing I’d heard the story he was about to tell countless times.

In Green Vale, it felt like the villagers retold the same four tales from their lives, over and over, as though nothing of note had happened since the Dark Days. And maybe nothing had. At least, not until the war in Cambas turned the shores black.

“She was only nine, playing alone in the forest,” Adder said. “Two nights passed before we found what was left of her, lying beneath the hedgerows like she was nothing more than a dead animal—not someone’s daughter.”

I stared into my tankard, swirling the ale, waiting for the inevitable—the part he always lingered on, the part that still caught in his throat after all this time.

Adder swallowed hard, forcing himself to continue, though none of us needed to hear it—we already knew how it ended.

“The Lord hunted the witch who murdered her, ordering her to be burned at the stake. Nothing could bring Mable back, but watching terror blaze in the witch’s eyes—almost as bright as the flames—felt like justice. So, I am certain he’s no spellcaster.”

Avice clutched the locket around her neck, giving Adder a solemn nod, as if she could feel the weight of his anguish.

A dazed Todd, barely able to keep upright, let out a ragged chuckle. “So, the Lord caught your witch, eh?” He jabbed a finger toward Adder. “Don’t mean naught when the most powerful sorceress to exist is seeking revenge. The wayfarer said, on the far shores, men are dropping like flies in winter. No hope—no hope for man to win this war!” He shook his heavy head, as though our King had already waved the white flag.

While Adder and Todd debated the strength of mortals against magic, I tried to stay out of their heated conversation. But it was impossible not to notice how both believed they held the answers to all the kingdom’s troubles.

It was always the same—men certain they knew best, even when they didn’t. Even in the smithy, Finn never hesitated to assert his opinions on ironwork, yet more often than not, he’d come sheepishly asking for my help.

“Maybe they should start conscripting women,” I muttered under my breath, mostly to myself. “War would be over within a week.”

Adder’s gaze fixed on me. “What was that?”

I met his wild eyes—cold, disconcerting.

“If men cannot beat magic, maybe a woman could offer some wisdom,” I replied.

Adder scratched his fleeting hairline, scoffing at the thought. “A man doesn’t seek a woman’s help. She wouldn’t understand the reasons for his actions,” he said, looking down his apple-bottomed chin at me.

I straightened my back, shifting out of his shadow, meeting his gaze head-on. “I agree.” I kept my voice steady, ensuring he knew I wasn’t intimidated. “If a woman were dealt the same cards as a man, she’d play her hand differently.”

Adder’s hardened face scrunched up. “Don’t talk in riddles. Say plainly what you mean.”

Finn kicked me under the table—a silent warning to stop provoking him. I ignored it.

“If a woman were in power, there’d be no war. Violence is for the foolish,” I said, thumping my foot into Finn’s shin in retaliation.

Adder’s bushy brow lowered, nearly concealing his cold eyes. “Are you calling me a fool?”

Finn shot me a deadly glare, and I shook my head, unwilling to fall out with my brother over this.

Scoffing, Adder muttered, “Why would anyone entrust power to a woman when they shrink at the first sign of resistance.”

I couldn’t bite my tongue any longer.

“You’re a villager, just like me,” I reminded him. “You’ve as much power as a fireplace filled with wet wood.”