Queen Regina.
I awoke with more questions than I’d taken to bed.
On this bright morning, Bronwyn brought me breakfast and dressed me in a pale blue gown. She sensed my pensive mood and suggested I spend the day in the courtyard rather than cooped up in my chamber. With Fitzroy occupied discussing war tactics with Wolver, I allowed her to guide me outdoors.
In the courtyard, a handful of goblins tended to the flower beds and herb gardens, creating a quiet and tranquil setting.
I settled on a stone bench and mindlessly watched them gardening.
Usually when I felt blue, I’d place myself in front of the anvil and craft something.
But here on the Isle, not only was I unfamiliar with the location of the smithy, but my restrictive garments would’ve made forging impossible.
My gaze followed the trail of creeping ivy as its tendrils snaked up the wall, wrapping tightly around the railings of a balcony that overlooked the sunlit courtyard.
A figure lingered on the overhang—obscured by the blinding sun.
Shielding my eyes, I caught a glimpse of silver hair just as the person retreated inside—it was Regina.
As I wondered what she was observing, the clip of footsteps on the cobblestones claimed my attention.
“Good morrow,” Regina said in her commanding voice.
I quickly rose to my feet, offering her a dutiful curtsy.
“Are you busy?” she asked.
“No, Your Grace.”
“Come.” She beckoned. “I have something I wish to show you.”
I followed Regina through the castle’s labyrinthine passageways until we reached a dimly lit chamber with the scent of damp parchment and smoldering wood.
The chamber was crammed with curiosities—shelves stacked with vials lined the stone walls, and above a crackling fire, a mantelpiece displayed an array of burning incense and sage.
Regina sat at a circular table cluttered with mystical items.
“Please, join me,” she said, pointing to a spare stool.
Wrestling with my many layers of skirt, I squeezed past an enormous cauldron that dominated the floor. Regina glanced up as I pushed myself through the narrow gap.
She sighed. “Remind me to return that thing to Dyrnwch. Otherwise, he’ll be at the castle gates, looking for it and expecting a feast. Never again will I host a giant at court—they cannot handle their mead.”
I nodded and settled beside her. As she began sorting through a stack of books, my curiosity was drawn to the items on the tabletop.
First, an ornate chalice piqued my interest. I tilted it toward me and peered inside—it was empty.
Next, I picked up a leather-bound book adorned with the daisy-wheel monogram.
Its pages brimmed with magnificent illustrations of magical creatures and pastoral scenes.
One image depicted a creature resembling Dog—tufts of black fur framing pointy fangs.
“That is The Book of Spells,” Regina remarked, watching me from the corner of her eye. “It contains the first four gospels of the ancient testaments, written in Yfelle by the first wizards and witches to walk the realm.”
I continued to admire the swirly calligraphy when something shiny caught my attention. Reaching for it, I discovered a smooth stone with a perfectly round hole in its center. Unable to resist, I poked my finger through it.
“That’s a hagstone,” Regina said. “When looked into, it reveals hidden magic or concealed creatures.”
I held the talisman before one eye and closed the other, scanning the chamber in search of masked arcana. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, I smiled.
“We’re safe,” I declared, prompting a laugh from Regina.
“I’ll have to tell Wolver I’ve found myself a new protector,” she quipped, the lines around her eyes deepening as she gave me a smile.
With Regina returning to her books, I resumed my exploration of the mystical trinkets.
“What’s that?” I asked, prodding the lump of blubber taking up most of the table.
“The skin of a selkie,” she answered, without pausing her organizing.
“Why do you have that?”
“Selkies are neutral beings; they avoid war. I lost countless goblins and ogres in battle, so I wondered if these sea mammals might serve as strong allies.”
She paused her arranging to fix her gaze on me.
“Wolver abducted the Emperor of the Selkies’s daughter, stealing her sealskin and reverting her to human form.
Without it, she could not return to her colony.
Abandoned on the shallow shores of Cambas, she was deceived into believing that the commander of Lyonesse’s army had stolen her skin.
I knew the selkies would sense her despair, swim to her aid, and discover that she’d been skinned.
Though selkies favor pacifism, their very nature is vengeful—they fought my battles unwittingly. ”
A shiver ran down my spine as Regina’s gaze remained steady. Her violet irises—intense beyond comprehension—burned into mine as if she expected praise. But I didn’t believe her actions were anything to boast about.
“Poor thing,” I murmured, recalling the distraught woman on the shoreline.
Once, I’d deemed her malevolent when she’d lured soldiers to their watery graves. Now, I pitied the person who’d truly believed the men on the beach had hidden the one thing she needed to return home.
“War’s cruel,” Regina stated, her voice stern.
I nodded. My time at Cambas had taught me there were no winners, only survivors.
“Here’s what I wanted to show you,” Regina said, blowing dust off the cover of a pocket-size book.
“Greenhorn’s Grimoire.” She placed it before me.
“Your abilities have been stifled by my brother’s oppressive rule, yet it is clear you are a naturally gifted witch.
This grimoire contains spells—study its pages and learn the incantations.
With dedication, by summer solstice you might rival Fitzroy in sorcery. ”
“Thank you. I’m truly grateful,” I said, eager to delve into its contents.
Regina nodded graciously and walked over to the window, drawing back the heavy curtain to let sunlight flood the chamber.
“It’s raining in Lyonesse,” she observed, pointing toward thick, dark clouds gathering in the distance.
I left my spellbook on the table and joined her at the window.
“It nearly always is.” I sighed, watching the shimmering veil of rain stretch across the horizon. “The constant wetness makes every task feel twice as heavy.”
Regina raised her glowing palms to the sky, her hands outshining even the sun.
“Wolcn’of greeg, forscinan, gedlan oe opentian’th leoht’of daey.” Clouds of gray, fade away, part to reveal the light of day, she intoned.
As she slowly lowered her hands, the rainfall ceased. Dense gray clouds parted to reveal a clear blue sky.
“It’s no mere coincidence that the weather over Lyonesse is unpredictable,” she said, lifting her hands again. “It serves as a constant reminder to my brother that I’m alive—and I remain a threat to his throne.”
Regina then intoned once more, “Feallen fram’he wolcn, heape niper belowan, wreon’he eorphan in a scurum’of snawes.” Fall from the clouds, head down below, cover the land in a flurry of snow.
Fluffy clouds—soft as cotton—drifted in on a gentle breeze, and the wind blew ice-cold as tiny snowflakes began to fall, blanketing the land in white.
“I could make it hot,” Regina mused, her lips curling into a menacing grin. “I could scorch Lyonesse, obliterating it all.”
“Sunne byrnan hatra ponna a wyrmes blaest, byrnan eall belowan oppaet paer pa nawiht ac deap.” Sun burn hotter than a dragon’s breath, burn all below till there is nothing but death, she chanted.
Abruptly, as the snowfall halted, the clouds evaporated under the glaring sun. I hesitated for a moment, expecting her to stop, but her piercing gaze never wavered from the kingdom in the distance.
Without a second thought, I raised my hands and countered, “Feallen fram’he wolcn, heape niper belowan, wreon’he eorphan in a scurum’of snawes.” Fall from the clouds, head down below, cover the land in a flurry of snow.
As the final word left my lips, white clouds reappeared, enveloping Lyonesse in a fresh blizzard.
“You learn remarkably quickly,” Regina observed, clearly impressed.
Her compliment relaxed my nerves.
“Emotion strengthens magic,” she added, her gaze shifting to me. “Love, hate, anger—even lust and desire—they amplify a spell’s power. That’s why my hexes against my brother’s army are so potent; every incantation I cast brims with raw hatred.”
Regina then settled back at the table, and I followed.
Opening a weathered book, she gestured to its pages.
“These are some of the latest incantations I’ve devised,” she said, flipping through a collection of carefully inscribed charms. “I’m always working on new enchantments.
Would you like to see the latest spell I’ve been crafting? ”
In awe, I nodded.
Regina plucked a dried primrose from the scattered trinkets and instructed, “Hold out your palms.” I obeyed, and she gently placed the flower in my hands.
“Esen’of lif, bringa pis wyrt eft fram’es dead. Blaest lif inoe pis wyrt fram rote oe heape.” Essence of life, bring this flora back from the dead. Breathe life into this plant from root to head.
As she recited the incantation, I watched the primrose’s straw-like stem turn green—each word breathing life back into it. The muted petals burst forth in a bright yellow hue, and the shriveled leaves regained their plump freshness.
“It’s a resurrection spell,” Regina explained, carefully plucking the rejuvenated bloom from my hands.
“Does it work on people?” I asked softly, my thoughts drifting to Avice.
“In theory, yes,” she replied. “But I believe some things should be left in the hands of the gods.”
“Then why perfect this spell?”
My question hung in the air as Regina smiled, hinting at a secret reason she wouldn’t share.
“Why do you wish to know if it’s suitable for man?” she countered, deftly sidestepping my question.
I paused, the silence heavy as I tried to think of a way to answer without mentioning Avice.
“You forget I was there, Niamh,” she said. “On that icy night you begged the Black Shuck to end your friend’s life.”
“You were there?” I uttered, trying to unearth memories I’d buried.
Regina nodded. “I see visions of possible futures. If I like what I see, I’ll do everything in my power to make the visions my reality.
I also hear prophecies, though these are set in stone—impossible to alter—unlike the visions.
On the evening Avice died, I possessed the Black Shuck and spoke to you through her mouth.
I showed you glimpses of what your future might hold—I told you to follow the Silver Witch.
And now, here you sit before me,” she said, her fingers lightly stroking her silver locks.
“If you had let Avice live, she would’ve seen you hanged—if that’s any consolation. ”
Her words did little to ease the repentance I felt for my actions.
“Then she would’ve married Fitzroy and been utterly miserable,” Regina added.
“I’m certain any woman who weds him will find herself plagued with melancholy,” I remarked wryly.
Regina’s laughter rang out, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “Something tells me you’d fair just fine by his side. Not merely fine—you’d thrive.”
I snorted, unconvinced Fitzroy and I were star-crossed lovers.
Though I couldn’t help but muse on whether we complemented one another. It seemed unlikely, given how heated our quarrels could get. But still, I wondered.
“Avice had to die to preserve magic,” Regina continued. “It may seem harsh, especially because she was your friend, but sacrificing one life to save all magical creatures was undoubtedly the right decision.”
“Of course,” I murmured, though uncertainty pulled at my heartstrings.
“If Avice had lived, Fitzroy wouldn’t have been commander long enough to believe that peace was only obtainable by seeking an alliance with me. His father would’ve called for his return after a matter of weeks to marry.”
“I see,” I said, the bitter realization settling in that Avice had been nothing more than a pawn in the royal siblings’ game.
“I saw a vision of Fitzroy here on the Isle, seeking an alliance with me,” Regina went on.
“I saw that image of him as a grown man, long before he was born. That vision came the day his mother joined the royal court. She was only seventeen, yet I knew I had to steer her toward my brother—because one day, their child would help me reclaim my throne. At first, my brother dismissed her as too young, but men are easily swayed. I had Wolver feign interest in Catherine, presenting her as the most desirable woman at court. By night’s end, the King had invited her to his bedchamber, and Fitzroy was born the following year. ”
As I recalled Fitzroy’s tales of his mother, whose life was tainted by that very meeting that Regina had orchestrated, I couldn’t help but wonder how many lives had been sacrificed in her pursuit of the throne.
“And that’s why you gave Fitzroy the wyvern?” I asked, unease seeping into my tone.
Regina nodded, a menacing glint in her eye that raised the hairs on my neck. “When the time came, I knew he’d have the means to travel here.”
A sharp knock reverberated from the heavy wooden door.
“Come in,” Regina called.
The hinges creaked as Billy struggled to open it.
“Your Grace,” he announced, bowing in our general direction. “Wolver has summoned you.”
“I shall meet with him at once,” she replied.
“Thank you, Your Grace.” Billy bowed, ducking out of the chamber.
Regina patted my arm affectionately. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m needed elsewhere.”
“Thank you for this,” I murmured, picking up my new spellbook.
I curtsied before leaving the chamber, hurrying toward my own quarters with eagerness to practice spellcasting.