Page 132 of Reign

Regina then settled back at the table, and I followed. Opening a weathered book, she gestured to its pages. “These are some of the latest incantations I’ve devised,” she said, flipping through a collection of carefully inscribed charms. “I’m always working on new enchantments. Would you like to see the latest spell I’ve been crafting?”

In awe, I nodded.

Regina plucked a dried primrose from the scattered trinkets and instructed, “Hold out your palms.” I obeyed, and she gently placed the flower in my hands.

“Esen’of lif, bringa pis wyrt eft fram’es dead. Blæst lif inoe pis wyrt fram rote oe heape.” Essence of life, bring this flora back from the dead. Breathe life into this plant from root to head.

As she recited the incantation, I watched the primrose’s straw-like stem turn green—each word breathing life back into it. The muted petals burst forth in a bright yellow hue, and the shriveled leaves regained their plump freshness.

“It’s a resurrection spell,” Regina explained, carefully plucking the rejuvenated bloom from my hands.

“Does it work on people?” I asked softly, my thoughts drifting to Avice.

“In theory, yes,” she replied. “But I believe some things should be left in the hands of the gods.”

“Then why perfect this spell?”

My question hung in the air as Regina smiled, hinting at a secret reason she wouldn’t share.

“Why do you wish to know if it’s suitable for man?” she countered, deftly sidestepping my question.

I paused, the silence heavy as I tried to think of a way to answer without mentioning Avice.

“You forget I was there, Niamh,” she said. “On that icy night you begged the Black Shuck to end your friend’s life.”

“You were there?” I uttered, trying to unearth memories I’d buried.

Regina nodded. “I see visions of possible futures. If I like what I see, I’ll do everything in my power to make the visions my reality. I also hear prophecies, though these are set in stone—impossible to alter—unlike the visions. On the evening Avice died, I possessed the Black Shuck and spoke to you through her mouth. I showed you glimpses of what your future might hold—I told you to follow the Silver Witch. And now, here you sit before me,” she said, her fingers lightly stroking her silver locks. “If you had let Avice live, she would’ve seen you hanged—if that’s any consolation.”

Her words did little to ease the repentance I felt for my actions.

“Then she would’ve married Fitzroy and been utterly miserable,” Regina added.

“I’m certain any woman who weds him will find herself plagued with melancholy,” I remarked wryly.

Regina’s laughter rang out, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “Something tells me you’d fair just fine by his side. Not merely fine—you’d thrive.”

I snorted, unconvinced Fitzroy and I were star-crossed lovers.

Though I couldn’t help but muse on whether we complemented one another. It seemed unlikely, given how heated our quarrels could get. But still, I wondered.

“Avice had to die to preserve magic,” Regina continued. “It may seem harsh, especially because she was your friend, but sacrificing one life to save all magical creatures was undoubtedly the right decision.”

“Of course,” I murmured, though uncertainty pulled at my heartstrings.

“If Avice had lived, Fitzroy wouldn’t have been commander long enough to believe that peace was only obtainable by seeking an alliance with me. His father would’ve called for his return after a matter of weeks to marry.”

“I see,” I said, the bitter realization settling in that Avice had been nothing more than a pawn in the royal siblings’ game.

“I saw a vision of Fitzroy here on the Isle, seeking an alliance with me,” Regina went on. “I saw that image of him as a grown man, long before he was born. That vision came the day his mother joined the royal court. She was only seventeen, yet I knew I had to steer her toward my brother—because one day, their child would help me reclaim my throne. At first, my brother dismissed her as too young, but men are easily swayed. I had Wolver feign interest in Catherine, presenting her as the most desirable woman at court. By night’s end, the King had invited her to his bedchamber, and Fitzroy was born the following year.”

As I recalled Fitzroy’s tales of his mother, whose life was tainted by that very meeting that Regina had orchestrated, I couldn’t help but wonder how many lives had been sacrificed in her pursuit of the throne.

“And that’s why you gave Fitzroy the wyvern?” I asked, unease seeping into my tone.

Regina nodded, a menacing glint in her eye that raised the hairs on my neck. “When the time came, I knew he’d have the means to travel here.”

A sharp knock reverberated from the heavy wooden door.