Page 9 of Reign

“That’s cruel,” I said.

Todd slumped forward, passing his empty tankard between his hands, a fond smile creeping onto his lips as if he were lost in some distant memory. “Aye, we were boisterous—all young lads are. The urge for hunting, for adventure—it runs through the blood of men.”

He thumped a fist against his chest, harder than he likely meant to. Not that I imagined he felt the blow. Drink had numbed him entirely.

“I remember the day it changed,” Todd murmured, his voice thick with nostalgia—or ale. “Word spread that King James had outlawed magic, claiming it was for the safety of his people—that Regina’s ever-growing power was dangerous. And then, as if overnight, all magic drained from the realm. Just…gone.”

He shook his head, his gaze sinking into his lap. “I won’t bore you with more stories from my youth—pretty sure I’ve told you them all before.”

“I’d bet all I own that you have,” Finn remarked, earning a giggle from Avice.

From a neighboring table, a familiar grunt sliced through the low hum of the tavern.

“You lot talking about Regina?” Adder asked, heaving his sturdy self onto his feet.

Todd gave an unnaturally slow nod, his eyelids drooping as he teetered on the edge of consciousness.

Like most brutes, Adder was as bright as a dying ember. Father had once offered to train him as a blacksmith’s apprentice but quickly learned the only thing Adder was good for was carrying firewood.

He thumped toward us, and I prayed that he wouldn’t sit beside me. A woman was only safe in his presence when his hands were stuffed inside his pockets.

I squirmed in my seat as Adder dragged a barstool next to me, his closeness unsettling.

In a vain attempt to catch Finn’s eye, I stared at him, hoping to convey how uncomfortable Adder was making me—to urge him to intervene. But he was consumed by Avice, his gaze fixed on her, utterly oblivious to my silent plea.

With a scoff, Adder muttered, “The last King had no clue what wrath would fall upon us when he overlooked Regina as ruler.”

His hand drifted dangerously close to my thigh just as Avice finally peeled herself away from Finn, acknowledging there were other people at the table besides my brother.

“My father told me Regina was plagued with hysteria,” she said, her voice steady. “That’s why her father, the prior King, changed his line of succession.”

I glanced at the portrait of our current ruler above the fireplace. King James in the early days of his reign, draped in lavish fabrics, crown jewels gleaming, a mane of dark hair framing his stern face.

“He didn’t think she could handle power,” Avice continued, “and her actions since have proven he made the right choice.”

Todd let out a long, dispirited sigh. “Before you younglings were born, Regina saved this whole damned village, you know?” He shook his head, gripping the tabletop as if the room was spinning. “Sea serpent, great ugly beast, lurking in the marshes—she defeated it! Yet no one remembers—no. No one gives a damn about the good she did for the people of Lyonesse, not a single blasted soul!”

The barmaid, unimpressed, sucked her teeth as she plunked down our refilled tankards. “Do you want to be cut off?” she asked Todd, arching a brow.

Todd, unfazed by the threat, claimed an ale.

“Even if she did a few good deeds,” the barmaid muttered, shaking her head in disdain, “she’s still an evil sorceress.” With that, she turned and walked away.

“It makes no sense,” Adder grumbled, scrunching his leathery face. “How can Regina be such a powerful witch when King James has no magical abilities?”

Todd cleared his throat with a mighty swig of ale, keeping his lips sealed around the rim of his tankard. “Not every babe is blessed, now, are they?”

“It’s a curse,” Avice snapped. “Not a blessing.”

I flinched at her words, while Finn nodded in agreement.

Mother’s stories came to mind—tales of Regina’s spell work, cast not for destruction, but to help the kingdom prosper.

It was hard to believe such magic could be branded as evil.

“Or maybe King James hides his wizardhood well, eh?” Todd mumbled, ignoring Avice’s remark. “Some say our own Lord of the Wetlands is a wizard. Some claim that before the Dark Days—after the birth of his firstborn daughter—the Lord cast spells in celebration, sending fireworks over the villages.”

Avice thumped her fists on the tabletop. “That’s a lie,” she spat.