Page 179 of Reign

“Did your locket have hair tucked inside?” Elizebeth asked, clutching the pendant with both her purpled palms.

For a moment, Jane said nothing, as if she were unable to hear Elizebeth over the anger thrumming in her ears—but gradually, her scowl softened.

She shrugged out of Finn’s grip and approached tentatively.

Carefully, she pinched Elizebeth’s auburn strands between her fingertips, analyzing the color and texture—like she needed to be certain, like she couldn’t afford to be wrong.

She looked up, chin trembling, and met Elizebeth’s eyes, now filled with unshed tears.

Without a word, they fell into one another’s arms, holding tight—like they’d saved up all the embraces they’d longed to share over the years and were giving them now.

I couldn’t tell whose head was whose as the strong winds interwove their identical hair.

For a while, they stayed like that—in a silent hold. I imagined there were no words that could express what they were feeling in that moment.

Finn watched on, a pleased look brightening his eyes. He glanced to me, giving a nod as if their reunion brought him joy.

Though I was glad for them, too, my stomach churned.

He didn’t know they were Avice’s family. And if he learned of their connection to the Lord of the Wetlands—and how that man had sacrificed both of his daughters, and even Jane, to protect his pride and elevate his status—I feared Finn would stop at nothing to see him dead.

A loud trumpet tore my attention from the reunion, directing it seaward.

The soldiers were returning to the shore.

Through my tunic, I clutched my locket. Jane had found her mother. She didn’t need the memento anymore. But I did—I was still waiting to be reunited with my dearest friend from the Headlands.

Desperate to see Bash, I analyzed the tumult unfolding at sea, where storm winds whipped the waves into a thrashing frenzy. Men who could swim struggled against the deadly current, clawing their way toward the shore. I prayed to the gods to reveal Bash among the bobbing heads, yet he was nowhere to be found. My stomach churned violently, threatening to empty itself, and my heart thudded with such force that I feared I might be sick.

Then, a flash of white amid the dark waves caught my attention—it shone like a promising beacon in the gloom. My eyes locked onto the figure as it neared the coastline, but my fleeting relief quickly evaporated. It wasn’t Bash; it was Fletcher. Crawling from the sea, his legs buckled as though he’d never walked on land. With desperate determination, he clawed his way across the charcoal beach, dragging himself to safety before collapsing among the hundreds of wounded and dead.

“Where’s Bash?” I demanded as I loomed over him.

Fletcher responded with a splutter as he flipped onto his back, coughing up seawater.

Shielding my eyes from the overcast sky, I scanned the vicinity in desperation—yet all I saw was death.

Something tugged at my breeches. Glancing downward, I saw Fletcher struggling to rise. I knelt beside him, gripping his shoulders as Finn came to our aid and seized his waist. Together, we hoisted him onto his unsteady feet. His signature cap was gone, his white hair plastered to his forehead, exposing the leathery scar he always sought to hide.

“Where’s Bash?” I asked again, pulling at his blood-stained tunic.

He still didn’t reply. Instead, his lower lip trembled like the storm-tossed masts of the ships.

“Where is he?” I pressed.

He shook his head, tears welling in his eyes.

For a moment, I refused to believe what his silence was telling me.

But when the realization hit, I ran across the beach and plunged into the sea, each crashing wave drawing me deeper. I waded through the water in a feverish search for Bash, expecting to find him hiding in the blue depths.

“Niamh!” Fitzroy’s voice thundered from the shoreline. “It’s not safe!”

Breaking waves toppled me, and the undercurrent dragged me beneath the surface. I thought I’d never summon the strength to break free, when suddenly, something caught my breeches and dragged me back to shore.

A rough tongue frantically licked my mouth and nose until I bolted upright, spluttering the water I’d inhaled. Before me sat Dog, her amber eyes brimming with sympathy. I leapt forward, burying my face into her fur as I cried out in anguish.

Fitzroy soon appeared beside me, scooping me up and helping me inland. I collapsed against him; the agony in my chest was even sharper than the sting of the arrow—and still, I couldn’t accept that Bash was gone.