Page 88 of Reign

“Not out of choice. She wore the purple ribbon. She was going to cast aside the wealth, her titles, becoming a princess—for me—”

“Until she found out you were a wizard. Then she would’ve had you hanged—”

“No, she wouldn’t.” At last, Finn met my gaze, defiance furrowing his brow.

“Yes, she would’ve.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“How can you be so certain?” Finn demanded, his voice rising.

“Because she threatened to do that to me!” I yelled, my words echoing across the waves.

“When?”

“The night she died. She learned that I was a witch and told me I could beg the gods for forgiveness in the afterlife.”

Finn’s expression darkened. “Avice said that?” His tone turned defensive—unwilling to accept it.

I nodded, tears spilling down my face. “It wounds me every day that my closest friend valued her father’s bloodstained legacy over my life.”

“Was it you who hurt her?” Finn pressed, rubbing his knuckles, as if to warm them for me.

“No,” I retorted, my voice wavering with uncertainty. “The hatred her father instilled in her killed her—the lies he fed her poisoned her mind.”

“Then why did the Black Shuck end her and not you, too?” Finn’s gaze brimmed with confusion.

My grief choked me. “Dog was protecting me.”

Finn recoiled, rising to his feet. “That beast killed Avice for you?”

I looked up. “No—she saved me.”

“Because you couldn’t keep Avice—you decided to take her away from me?”

The sands crumbled beneath my feet as I stood. “She was my friend first. Or do you choose to forget that—”

“You take my love, then you take my name,” Finn wailed, fury flooding his tone. “What more do you want? The clothes off my back? Take them—they’re all yours!”

I fought to restrain him as he wrenched off his cloak and shoved it into my arms. Then, with an almighty shove, he sent me sprawling onto the sands.

I hit the ground hard. My breath left my lungs—I was winded, gasping for air. Yet Finn cared not for my pain. In that moment, I believed he’d feel no remorse even if his push had slain me.

As I took ragged gasps, like a wounded animal, Finn stormed away.

When I finally found my breath, I stood and scanned the shoreline for him, only to find two white-haired figures lurking instead. Fletcher quickly averted his eyes, pretending he hadn’t been snooping. But Bash held my gaze with an unreadable expression—concern, curiosity, or something else entirely.

Ashamed, I turned away and called out. “Finn, Finn!”

He halted and slowly turned to face me.

“I’m so sorry that Avice died so that I could live,” I said, playing the martyr.

Finn’s mouth curled in ire. “Me too,” he spat, then strode across the sands.

I watched him vanish into the drifting fog, my heart heavy with sorrow.