Reign by Lily Blake

Prologue
Northern France
1559
    â€œPromise me you’ll come back as soon as you can,” Kenna said, looking up into Bash’s gray eyes. In the past weeks she’d fallen in love with the details. The way his dark hair came over his brows. The stubble that thickened above his top lip. How he always had this intense look, like he was squinting to see her better.
    â€œOf course I will,” Bash said. “I hope we’ll get answers there—at Visegard. The Darkness has been terrorizing the woods for too long. Who better to find him than the Master of Horse and Hunt?”
    He smirked, and Kenna let out a small laugh. Lately, he’d pull her to him, muttering something about his fake title. She liked that he could make jokes with her. That he always wanted to be near her. That he’d rest his face against her neck and breathe her in, closing his eyes as if he was relishing every moment.
    Bash knelt down to talk to Pascal. “This place The Darkness held you… it was in an abandoned village past the stream, just south of the mountain range, right? A town that started with a B ?”
    The little boy nodded. Just weeks before, Bash had found him alone in the woods, covered in blood. He said a man with sharp teeth had kidnapped him and held him for days in a place called Visegard. Bash knew it was The Darkness—the monster who lurked in the shadowy woods, a pagan god who was only appeased by the blood of innocents. In the past days Pascal and Kenna had grown close; she cared for him like a mother would. It always took Bash by surprise, how moved he was watching Kenna comb the little boy’s hair or tie his shoes. She grew lovelier with every stolen glance.
    â€œThis has gone on too long,” Bash said, patting the boy’s shoulder. “We’ll find the monster in the woods—The Darkness. We won’t come back until we do.”
    â€œWe should leave before sunset,” Nostradamus called out from across the palace lawn. Bash turned to him and saw that he had already climbed onto his horse. Bash had planned to go alone, but Nostradamus was seeking his own revenge. The Darkness had tortured and nearly killed his love, Olivia.
    Bash grabbed Kenna’s hand, squeezing it tight. He was suddenly aware of Pascal behind him and the guards stationed at the palace’s back gate. He couldn’t kiss her here; it might seem dishonorable. After all she’d endured with his father, he was careful not to draw her close to him in front of people or imply, in any way, she was only an object of lust.
    He looked at her sweet, heart-shaped face, wanting to kiss her, to hold her. Instead, he said only, “I will miss you, Kenna.”
    â€œI will miss you too,” she said. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him hard, passionately. It drew all the breath from his body. He tried not to give in to it, but he wanted her—all of her. One kiss was not enough.
    When she finally pulled away, he felt lighter. A heady, wild feeling had overcome him. He climbed on the horse and look down at her, smiling. He gave the reins one quick whip and was off, starting toward the trees.

Chapter One
Bezonvaux, France
August 13, 1517
    â€œBeautiful work, Claude,” his mother said, looking at the tray of freshly baked rolls. He had folded the dough just the way she’d taught him, turning the ends down into an X. Now they were plump and delicious looking. The whole cottage smelled of warm bread.
    Claude moved easily around the kitchen, helping his mother stir the stew or sort the fresh herbs he’d found by the river. His little brothers, Enzo and Jacques, played on the floor, driving around the horses Claude had carved for them out of wood. Claude relished the distraction, these tiny moments he could focus on. Things seemed so simple: fold the dough, wash the pots, do this, do that. When he was absorbed in this work, he could almost ignore the screams