Page 94 of Reign

“You’ll need to enchant the weapons, armor, and ships, to maximize the strength of your army,” she explained, indicating a specific page in the grimoire. “The necessary spells are in the copies I’ve given you.

“I’ve already instructed Jane to begin brewing a protective potion—disguised as ale. Once it’s ready, it must be served to the soldiers, unwittingly shielding them from blows. Thus, your army shall remain battle-ready, never knowing that magic has fortified them.

“When Regina strikes again, I understand that you men cannot cast spells mid-battle. So, we witches will take to the cliffs to watch over you, acting as discreet lookouts and protectors by performing spells to aid in your defense. Given the circumstances, I believe that’s the best we can offer.”

Fitzroy extended his hand to Margaret, and she eagerly accepted it.

“I’d be honored if you’d let me use your strategy,” he said, giving her hand a gentle shake.

Margaret’s thin lips curled into a proud, one-sided smile. “Of course, love—Your Highness,” she replied.

“May I have a moment alone with the grimoire?” Fitzroy asked. “I’d like to transcribe some of these incantations for my personal collection of spells.”

Margaret nodded; her eyes shone like sapphires as she realized her brilliance had been seen.

Fitzroy settled beside the fireplace, leafing through the pages with his mouth slightly agape in awe.

At one end of the trestle table, Bash and Fletcher took their seats. I followed the witches, stepping over the still-unconscious Mr. Bednot, and made my way to the bar, where Jane poured each of us a pint of ale.

“Do you think King James would be angry if he discovered his army’s using magic to defend Lyonesse?” Emma asked—her naivete as clear as the moon on a dry night.

Margaret scoffed, snatching a filled tankard from Jane’s hand. “Damn the King!” she said, raising her drink into the air. “If he knew what we truly are, he’d see us all slain.”

“You’re right,” I agreed. “Are we even fighting for the right side?”

“I don’t know anymore,” Margaret said, taking a hearty gulp of ale. “Sometimes I wonder if Regina would’ve made the better ruler—though I cannot ignore the rumors of her madness.”

“I like the idea of a Queen,” Jane mumbled into the keg, keeping her focus on pouring pints.

“Lyonesse needs a ruler who values both magic and mortals,” Margaret mused, knocking her fist against the bar as she contemplated who should wear the crown next.

“Perhaps someone like Fitzroy?” she added.

Emma nodded enthusiastically, twirling wispy strands of her hair around her fingertips, while I silently questioned whether he was mature enough for such a role.

Firmly, Margaret placed a hand on my shoulder. “Do you think Fitzroy desires kingship?” she asked—a look on her exhausted face told me she hoped I’d say yes.

“I don’t know him well enough to say,” I replied honestly.

Though I’d spent considerable time with Fitzroy in Cambas, our conversations had always revolved around war, wizards, and quarrels.

Emma closed her eyes. “I’ll listen for prophecies about His Highness’s future,” she murmured, cupping her hand to her ear like she could already hear whispers of his destiny.

With a winsome smile, Jane slid a pint across the bar to me. I grabbed two.

Drinks in hand, I settled into the armchair beside Fitzroy. Dog was already curled up beside the hearth, savoring the warmth of the fireplace.

Fitzroy glanced up from the grimoire. “For the first time since arriving in Cambas, I feel a glimmer of hope,” he said, accepting a tankard from me. “The women in this brothel have more to offer the kingdom than any man I’ve met in power.”

“You sound surprised,” I replied.

“Margaret is wise,” Fitzroy said, his tone heavy with respect. “Her intelligence could have easily been wasted simply because she’s a poor woman. It makes me wonder how many people with far greater intellect than those born into nobility, never get the chance to explore their gifts due to circumstances beyond their control.”

I nodded, amused as Fitzroy voiced his revelation—a thought I’d already harbored since childhood.

“Um, Sebastian!” Jane’s voice rang out across the chamber.

My eyes darted to the pair, curious about what he had done to make her scream his name.