Page 11 of Reign

I shot Adder a sarcastic smile just before taking a sip of my ale, making Avice chuckle into her tankard.

“Who are you laughing at?” Adder shouted at her.

Finn rolled up the sleeves of his tunic as he stood. “I agree with my sister. Violence is for the foolish. But I’ve drunk too much ale this evening, and I’m feeling as half-witted as you look. If you want to fight, I’ll happily throw the first punch.”

Adder didn’t stand.

The revelers erupted into cheers, some slamming their fists against the tables. I joined in, hoping Finn would batter him.

Avice drained the rest of her ale before rising to her feet. She took Finn by the hand and gently lured him away from the brewing altercation. A disappointed moan rippled through the tavern. Even I felt let down that Finn hadn’t knocked at least one of Adder’s corn-colored teeth from his empty skull.

I followed them closely, bursting through the tavern door to see Finn’s face flushed red with anger. He grabbed my arm, his grip so tight I feared he might snap it like a sun-dried stick.

“Your tongue will get someone killed,” Finn shouted, his voice blaring as though I were a mile away instead of mere inches.

“I admire your courage,” Avice said softly, brushing her hand across the one he had clamped around my arm. “How you stood up for Niamh made me wish I had an older brother to defend me.”

Finn released my arm, taking Avice’s hand instead. They embraced, and Avice glanced at me over Finn’s shoulder. I mouthed my thanks to her, and she shot me a quick wink.

“Go home,” Finn told me firmly, still holding Avice close. “I’ll escort Avice back to the castle.”

Despite my reluctance to walk alone in the dark, I didn’t argue. I watched them saunter away, hand in hand, until the darkness of the night swallowed them.

When I reached our cottage, I noticed Mother’s slender silhouette in the smithy. Not wanting to explain my solitary return, I slipped inside through the front door. Even in the main chamber, beside the hearth, the air was bitterly cold. My breath curled out of my mouth like I was taking a drag from a pipe.

I threw a few sticks onto the fireplace and watched as the flames hungrily consumed the wood. Sitting as close to the blaze as I dared, I listened to the rhythmic brushing of Mother sweeping straw in the smithy. Her soft humming kept getting lost in the gentle crackle of the fire.

Todd’s claims from this evening bewitched my mind. I hoped there was some verity in his drunken words, but the idea that magic was once as abundant as rain felt like nothing more than folklore.

Before I could decide whether I believed Regina was truly wicked, I overheard Mother welcoming Finn home.

“Where’s Niamh?” she asked him.

A moment later, Finn stumbled through the door and into the main chamber.

He let out a sigh of relief. “She’s here,” he shouted toward the smithy.

“Did Avice get home safely?” I asked.

Finn nodded as he shrugged off his frosted cloak and perched on a stool by the fire. He rubbed his reddened hands together, his teeth chattering. Tiny snowflakes clinging to the tip of his boots melted into nothing, while his ruby-red nose thawed back to its usual ivory shade in front of the flames.

“Did you share something?” I asked.

“What?” Finn asked, his tone still carrying irritation from when I almost caused a brawl.

“Perhaps a kiss?”

His lips puckered briefly, answering my question without the need for words.

“I won’t tell,” he said.

“Please, brother. Think of all I’ve done for you.” I tilted my head toward the smithy. “Slip me this little secret,” I begged, clasping my hands together and shaking them like a sinner pleading for forgiveness.

Finn stood up. “No,” he said with a grin—clearly relishing my desperation.

“I won’t stop pestering you until you tell me,” I warned, following him as he walked away.

Finn sighed and turned to face me. “Fine,” he began. “As we walked home, I took Avice’s hand and pulled her in close. Her forest-green eyes twinkled in the moonlight, and she blushed, praising my courage defending you this eve.” He poked me in the belly, smirking. “Just as she leaned in to kiss me… I grew fangs like a fruit bat, sank them into her neck, and drank more of her blood than pints of ale I had tonight,” he said, breaking into a hearty cackle.