Page 20 of The Iron Hex

“And you came here for the princess... I can’t remember her name. Shouldn’t that be enough of a sign that I don’t know her?” Eira shook her head in disbelief, trying to convince Hugo that he had the wrong woman. Once he understood that, she could go home.

“All I know is that you did know her, and for some reasonyou don’t remember anything from your life in the capital, but we have to figure it out.”

“How do you know I’m... what was her name—the Viscountess Westcotte?” Eira said, crossing her arms. “Maybe I just look like her, and your hunt has been for nothing.”

Hugo was silent, watching Eira for a long moment. His eyes were sad as Eira waited for him to answer. If his story was true... he had to have a history with her.

“Eira, I was your family’s personal guard for seven years before the Iron Empire’s uprising,” Hugo said. “I know your face better than my own.”

Ten years? He’d known her fortenyears? Eira suddenly felt like Hugo had the upper hand. If he’d guarded this viscountess’s family, it meant he had years of experience with her, knowing how to handle her, that she wasn’t even aware of. He knew more about this alleged version of her than she did.

But he didn’t know Eira Eckhart. Hugo knew whoever the Viscountess Westcotte was, but Eira Eckhart might be different. Eira Eckhart had three years of doing everything for herself that Hugo didn’t know about. And what if... what if the princess hadn’t wanted Hugo to find her? Maybe Eira needed to protect someone who was once her friend.

“Maybe the princess doesn’t want to be found,” Eira retorted.

“Maybe it’s not up to her anymore,” Hugo snapped back.

A stone skittered down the alleyway, pinging off Hugo’s boot and startling them both out of their argument and into a breathless silence. Someone else was here. Someone else had heard them.

The hairs on the back of Eira’s neck stood up.

The moment he noticed the hooded figure at the end of the alleyway, Hugo’s demeanor changed. He moved to stand in front of Eira, his hand brushing her waist as he positioned her behind him.

“Stay behind me, and if this goes badly... you need to run,” he whispered, barely loud enough for Eira to hear him.

Before she could speak, the hooded figure did.

“Hugo Venton,” the voice said from a few meters away. “Betrayer. It is your time to die.”

The voice, which sounded almost like a woman’s voice, was eerily hollow in a way that Eira had never heard before. It felt like the alleyway grew three degrees colder, and a shiver ripped through Eira’s body. It feltwrong.

“Perhaps it’s yours,” Hugo said, unsheathing his sword.

12

Hugo

A Soulless Knight was the last thing Hugo needed right now. The slightly modified Iron Empire sigil on their leather chest piece was the giveaway that he was facing the Iron Empire’s newest type of soldier. They’d just been an idea when he’d left the keep, but an idea nearing completion nonetheless. Dr. Balet, who Hugo liked to think was just a monster with a high opinion of himself, had insisted that they were nearly there when he’d decided to flee the capital.

The sword gleamed slightly in the dim light of the alley. Viscountess Westcotte—Eira—stood behind him. He had been so unbelievably blind. Frustrated all day at the fact that she had been pretending not to know him, completely forgetting that memory magic existed. It wasn’t common, and it was certainly outlawed, but that didn’t mean some witch hadn’t cast something on Eira to have her forget who she was. Whoever had done this to her was going to feel the cold steel of his blade; that he knew for certain. But first, he needed to handle whatever this thing in front of him was.

“Venton, you know I have to kill you,” the voice said, vaguelyfamiliar to him in the hollowest of ways. Disrespectful of them to only use his last name—the Iron Retinue really did hate him now, didn’t they?

“I’m not sure I know you,” he said, slowly stepping forward and willing Eira to stay where she was. “How do you know my name?” The creature, or person—Hugo wasn’t certain what they were at this point—threw off their hood. He looked into the changed eyes of one of his fellow Iron Retinue knights, Saoirse.

He instantly felt ill. Her once-deep-brown eyes were a hollowed-out white. No pupils, no irises, just a milky white void as she stared blankly at him. Her pale skin was somehow even paler than it had been before, as if it was made of bone now, and her hair was gone. The copper bob she’d had was shorn off, cropped to her scalp.

“What did they do to you?” Hugo swallowed, his throat suddenly dry as he took another step forward, his eyes flicking down to her feet to get a sense of her positioning.

“I was made anew,” she said. The rich substance he’d known her voice to always have was all but gone now. “The Iron Empire rewards those who push forward our future, and I am the future of our army.” She swung, her greatsword barreling toward Hugo in the blink of an eye.

There was no world where Saoirse could have swung a sword that heavy with as much ease as she just had. He’d served alongside Saoirse for years after the Iron Empire usurped the De Clares, watched her fight countless times. She’d been strong before, but not like that. Hugo felt sick to his stomach. Whatever she’d become... it wasn’t a person anymore. He parried, jumping out of the way and knocking her greatsword to the side with his own blade. Saoirse was knocked off balance slightly, but corrected faster than she ever had before, turning to him.

“We’re friends,” Hugo said, blocking her swings, which were coming faster and harder as she swung over and over again. “We don’t need to do this.”

“Betrayers are not friends,” her voice dragged out inhumanly, swinging again and only nearly missing him.

He needed to surprise her and catch her off guard. Saoirse was dominating him in this fight, and he couldn’t put Eira in harm’s way. The next time she swung he dived again, but not out of the way. He rolled toward her, standing up again behind her and quickly lashing out, swiping her back with his blade and aiming to knock her down so he could finish this fight. He slashed down, his sword cutting through Saoirse’s leathers in a swift motion. Hugo repositioned, the point of the sword ready to swing once she dropped to her knees. Except... she didn’t.