Page 12 of The Iron Hex

Rage flashed briefly through Hugo’s eyes before he audibly exhaled. “You and I both know I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“I don’t know what you mean by that,” Eira answered. She could see rage rise in him like a tide before he took a deep breath and exhaled.

“Eira,” he said. “Do not pretend like you don’t know what’s going on.”

Eira knew what was going on—she’d been taken from her home by a handsome stranger who, even though she wanted to strangle him, she kept thinking about kissing.

“You need to at least stop pretending you only make potions if we have to fight the Iron Retinue, okay?” he asked, pleading.

“I can’t do more magic... but I can fight,” Eira said, standing.

Hugo scoffed, and Eira felt that familiar white-hot rage boiling up inside of her again. This man was insufferable. It was a shame that all those good looks were wasted on such a horrid personality.

“You haven’t swung a sword in your life,” he laughed, motioning to her.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Eira defended herself without thinking, immediately regretting it. She sounded like a petulant child.

“I saw the hand you conjured in your house,” Hugo said. “I know you can do more than just potions. Admit it, what else are you hiding?”

Eira paled, sweat building on the back of her neck. He’d seen... Beatrice?

“You had better explain how you’ve seen the inside of my home right now,” she spoke slowly, trying to sound calm as she turned her body to be closer to the door so she could escape if she needed to.

Had Hugo planned this all along? Was the Iron Retinue attack fake? Was this all a ploy to kidnap and get a reward from the Iron Empire for turning in an illegal witch? She was spiraling again.

“Are you a witch hunter?” she asked, hand rushing to her heart as it began to pound.

He laughed, a little too loud, the bark pained. “That’s funny.” Not a denial.

Nothing was making sense; Hugosaidhe wanted to protect her... but he’d potentially broken into her home. She didn’t know him, but he kept thinking that she knew things she certainly didn’t. Suddenly, Eira remembered something from the night before as he laughed, something he’d said as they rode out of Cilirien.

“Why did you call me ‘lady’ last night?” she asked.

Hugo’s eyes flicked up to hers. “I’m not entertaining these games of yours anymore.” He sat on the bed and propped himself up against the headboard. “I need sleep. Don’t leave this room.”

“I’ll do what I please,” Eira said, sitting in the chair next to the fireplace.

“No, you won’t,” he said as he closed his eyes.

8

Rhona

The walls of the Great Hall of Claridge Castle had once been adorned with tapestries. Rhona remembered it all too clearly as she walked back to the lord general’s offices. Gaudy and lavish—the capital had been for showcasing the wealth and opulence of the monarchy. Then, the Iron Empire had risen and the De Clares were overthrown. Rhona remembered rejoicing the day the tapestries were taken down, knowing that, finally, Astra’s people had leaders that cared about them.

The Iron Empire, much like iron itself, was simple and strong. Transforming this space sent a message, felt like the right way to have started this empire. Rhona admired Lord General Kerrigan for his choices each day.

When she arrived at the lord general’s quarters, she found him almost exactly where he had been the last time she had spoken to him, the same place he was most days, leaning over the map of Astra with a deep crease settling in between his brows.

Rhona saluted, her hand to the Iron Empire’s sigil on her chest.

“At ease, Sir Rhona,” he said without looking up.

“Lord General,” she said, placing her arms awkwardly at her sides, unsure of where he wanted her to stand.

“Rhona, come look at what I’m working on.” Lord General Kerrigan motioned crisply with his right hand for Rhona to come to the table where he stooped over the map of the Iron Empire.

Was Lord General Kerrigan giving Rhona the chance to prove her tactical wits? Her compatriots had told her that this opportunity had been given to some of them in the past. Before the uprising, as Lord General Kerrigan built the ranks of the resistance, and after, as the lord general established the new empire. The Iron Empire was built on merit: merit, and grit. The lord general made sure to give everyone their opportunities to be rewarded for their talents... regardless of their history, or their family name. In the old days, Sir Rhona would have been Sir Mayhew... but now, with merit and not family history at the forefront of recognition, Rhona could be whoever she wanted to be, if she worked hard enough.