Page 149 of Reign

“Traitors, traitors to the Queen!” Billy screamed at the top of his lungs.

My heart thumped fast, fueled by fear—I didn’t want to endure the same grim fate as Herla.

“Silence!” Fitzroy spat through gritted teeth.

Together, we carried Billy back to the chamber, where Elizebeth quickly slammed the door shut behind us.

“Help!” Billy wailed, his cries piercing the silence.

“Hold him down,” Elizebeth commanded.

Fitzroy pinned Billy’s arms overhead, while Isobel and I restrained each leg.

Elizebeth’s hands hovered over his snarling face as she chanted, “Sælig’be’th halig leoht, becuman pis mann hir gesihp.” Blessed by the holy light, return this man his sight.

When she withdrew her palms, the milky glaze that had clouded his vision dissolved, revealing sky-blue irises beneath.

Billy blinked rapidly. “I—I… I can see,” he stammered, his voice trembling with astonishment. “I’m no longer blind!”

“You never were,” Elizebeth corrected him, in a harsh, matter-of-fact tone. “Regina cursed you with a cataract enchantment.”

Billy’s bushy brows furrowed heavily over his newly restored eyes, confusion wrinkling his sallow skin.

“Impossible,” he murmured, yet his tone was laden with uncertainty.

“Regina believed your fortune-telling abilities would heighten without your sense of sight. It wasn’t an unfortunate illness—just a reversible curse,” Elizebeth explained.

“She beguiled me with her sorcery,” Billy muttered, his trembling fingers probing around his sockets. “I’ve been betrayed.”

“He knows too much,” Mabina declared, her expression devoid of emotion. “He must be silenced.”

“Are you suggesting we kill him?” Elizebeth asked.

“Don’t smite me!” Billy pleaded, his voice quivering with fear. “Grant me mercy!”

“Yes,” Mabina affirmed, her steely gaze unwavering. “He offered to maim Herla—now I shall reave him of his life.”

She stood, poised to slay him—here, in my own bedchamber. But Isobel’s hands shot out, holding onto Mabina’s waist and anchoring her to the spot.

“If Billy disappears, Regina will suspect something’s amiss,” Isobel cautioned, gently pulling Mabina back to sit on the bedstead.

For a moment, I considered how we might rid ourselves of Billy without his absence being noticed. Then, suddenly, a memory resurfaced—a spell I’d once flicked past in Greenhorn’s Grimoire.

I turned to the vanity, picked up the tome, and flipped through its pages until I found the passage I sought.

“The art of mimicry—shape-shifting spells,” I read aloud, tracing my fingertip across the title page.

Elizebeth took the book from my hands. “Grand idea,” she remarked, giving me a quick pat on the shoulder. “We can transform another into Billy, but it must be someone whose disappearance won’t raise Regina’s suspicions.”

I glanced over my shoulder and saw Fitzroy already pointing at Bronwyn.

Without hesitation, the goblinette stepped forward. “I’ll do it.”

I knelt and drew Bronwyn into a tight embrace. “Thank you,” I murmured, my voice heavy with gratitude—for she’d offered to risk her safety to protect ours.

Elizebeth crouched beside me and placed the spellbook on the floor. With Bronwyn and Billy standing before her, she took their small, spindly hands and began reciting the incantation.

“Purh’th Pæs dagda miht, ordain hire gesceap wringan’n bugan, inoe hir gesceap hero’ll ofergan.” By the gods might, make her shape twist and bend, into his form she will transcend.