Page 69 of Reign

That familiar smolder appeared on Fitzroy’s face. It annoyed me slightly less than usual.

“Well, thank you for your flattery,” he said.

With a final nod, I bowed my head and stepped away, determined to fulfill his request and assemble a hidden army of wizards.

* * *

The clouds had momentarily parted, and the seamen took advantage of the pleasant weather to sift through the wreckage of the failed invasion. I hurried along the sands, noticing how the yellow grains underfoot darkened to charcoal as I approached the water. The shipyard’s dry dock held the reparable vessels, propped up in the building berth and awaiting restoration, while the badly burnt ships floated out at sea—with the deceased still aboard, forming a haunting nautical graveyard.

Shielding my eyes from the glaring sunlight, I scanned the deck for a hint of white hair among the brunettes and auburns. Beneath the hull of a beached ship, I spotted Fletcher in his signature cap. He and several other men were collecting reusable arrows from the sands, but Bash was nowhere to be seen. After a moment of scrutinizing the many faces working on the deck, I finally spotted him.

Bash stood without his tunic, his skin aglow in the golden hue of the sunset, every muscle on his torso highlighted. He untied the string holding back his hair, allowing his mane of white locks to fall freely before he picked up an axe. His toned arms tensed as he swung the blade into a chunk of wood, and I watched in awe as he split the log effortlessly in two. Standing upright, he wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, while droplets trailed down his chest as if his very skin was crying out to be touched.

Since Arthur’s death, I’d shared Bash’s warmth every night with Fletcher. The once-accidental embraces—moments I’d assumed were innocent, unconscious gestures in his sleep—had ceased. Part of me wondered if their absence since Fletcher joined our sleeping arrangement was mere coincidence; another, more troubling part worried that Bash had sensed my feelings for him and now felt uncomfortable in my presence.

“Bash,” I called out before he noticed me gawking.

At the sound of his name, he dropped his axe and waved in my direction. He climbed down a ladder propped against the ship, jumping the final meter onto the charred sands. As he ran toward me, I focused on his face, determined not to betray that his physique flustered me.

Panting as he caught his breath, Bash greeted me with a grin. “Smith, what a pleasant surprise,” he said, wiping his sweaty stomach with his tunic.

My eyes disobeyed me, glancing down at his heaving chest; his form was so divine it felt unholy to behold—a test from the gods, perhaps.

“I’m here on Fitzroy’s orders,” I said, forcing myself to meet his gaze.

Bash looked puzzled. “What could Fitzroy possibly want from me?”

“He wants your purple palms,” I replied.

Bash edged in close. “You told him I was a wizard?” he asked, his voice hushed yet urgent.

I shook my head and glanced over my shoulder to ensure no one was within earshot.

“Fitzroy’s a wizard, too,” I said, trusting him implicitly. “A good one. He’s accepted that this war cannot be won without magical assistance, and tasked me with forming a secret army of wizards.”

Bash rested his hands on his hips, inhaled deeply, and then exhaled slowly. “Do you trust Fitzroy?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t think we have any other choice,” I replied.

Bash nodded in agreement.

“Do you suspect anyone else among the men might be magical?” I asked.

Bash scrunched his face in thought and then turned toward the ship. “Fletcher!” he yelled.

Fletcher emerged from the shadow of the hull clutching the arrows he’d retrieved.

“He’s a wizard, too?” I asked, recalling the leathery branding on his forehead.

“No,” Bash replied. “He doesn’t possess any abilities, but many in our family do. He’s learned every trick to hide magic.”

“Your family talks about magic?” I asked, surprised.

Bash nodded. “Yours doesn’t?”

I shook my head. “My mother forbade me from telling anyone—she didn’t want me to burden my brothers.”

“Aren’t either of your brothers wizards?” Bash asked, his brow furrowed in puzzlement.