Page 137 of Reign

“I’ll let Niamh unfold the series of events,” Regina said, reclining back as though savoring the spectacle.

At once, all eyes were upon me.

I hesitated only briefly. As tears streaked Elizebeth’s cheeks, I mustered the courage to speak my truth.

“Your father raised Avice to abhor magic. Even the mere mention of a wizard made her skin crawl. On the night she died, she overheard me speaking in Yfelle.”

I paused, glancing toward Regina, and in that instant, realization struck: She’d deliberately lured me into that forbidden conversation. By speaking Yfelle, she’d exposed my witchery to Avice, leaving me no choice but to have Dog silence her forever.

Unease twisted my insides, making me dizzy and sick. Fitzroy wasn’t lying—Regina’s power was beyond anything I could comprehend.

“She intended to tell the Lord what she’d heard,” I continued, ripping my gaze from Regina and locking eyes with Elizebeth. “He would’ve had my family hanging by their necks. The Lord of the Wetlands is an evil cunt.”

Grief coiled in my chest—an aching reminder of how merciless some people were in their pursuit of power. It felt unbearably cruel that Avice, who had no part in this royal feud, had to die so Regina could fortify her claim to the throne.

“Smith,” Fitzroy hissed. “Don’t use such language in front of royalty.”

Turning to Regina, he added, “I apologize—she’s a commoner.”

Once again, my emotions had governed my tongue. My heartbeat quickened with nerves, bracing for a reprimand.

Instead of punishment, Regina gave me a warm smile.

“I excuse her candor,” she said, lightly resting a hand upon her heart. “She has every reason to be angry at the deeds of my brother and his disciples.”

Her empathetic tone softened the anger I’d just harbored, replacing it with deep gratitude for the way she always understood me. I found myself desperately seeking Regina’s approval, yet I remained uncertain if I truly favored her.

“My father preaches anti-magical views?” Elizebeth asked, her brows drawn in worry.

I nodded sharply. “He’s known to be the strictest in all the realm. That’s why no stray creature wanders the Wetlands—until the Black Shuck appeared.”

Regina tapped her fist against the tabletop. “I’m growing weary of this conversation.” She sighed, feigning a yawn. “I want to watch a comedy of errors!” She clapped her hands together. “Goblins, perform for us!”

The Great Hall instantly stirred to life as goblins carried in pieces of set, carefully maneuvering props and panels into place. A throne was heaved into the Great Hall and positioned between two benches, ready for us all to watch the comedy. The Queen and her courtiers took to their new seats, and I joined them—though Fitzroy stayed at the banquet table, no doubt ensnared by the decanter full of wine.

It wasn’t long before everything was in place, and the performance commenced.

“If spells be the essence of bewitchment, cast on, give me an abundance of it!” a goblin declared dramatically, capturing my attention.

The performers reenacted a shipwreck with theatrical flair; goblins dove to the floor pretending to drown while others shook blue ribbons to mimic stormy waves.

Regina tittered at their antics.

Then, a goblinette emerged unscathed from the wreckage, gasping for air. “Wherefore art thou, my twin brother?” she cried, acting vanquished. “Alas! He hath drowned at sea.”

She then pretended to faint, collapsing into the arms of a fellow goblin.

As the play entered its second act, my thoughts were consumed by the evening’s revelations.

From the corner of my eye, I studied Elizebeth more closely. In her, I caught snippets of Avice—the auburn hair framing green eyes, the delicate features, and the graceful way she carried herself, all mirroring Avice’s effortless charm.

Then I looked to Regina, and a chill rolled down my spine. She sat upon her glittering throne, the lines around her violet eyes deepening as she smiled at the show. I wanted to believe she was the rightful heir, just as her loyal courtiers did, but I was apprehensive.

A goblin stumbled onto a stool, cleared his throat, and delivered the closing line. “That shall conclude our play! In Lyonesse, it raineth every day!”

The courtiers applauded as the goblins and goblinettes took their bows.

Regina retired promptly, with Wolver following in her wake. One by one, the courtiers departed for their chambers, leaving Fitzroy behind at the banquet table, nursing a goblet of wine.