Page 25 of The Iron Hex

“Ew,” Eira said, suddenly sounding wide-awake. “No chance, we’ll keep riding to a town.”

“Eira, it’s the middle of the night and you were nearly falling asleep at the reins.” Hugo shook his head.

“No, I wasn’t,” Eira said, sticking her tiny, upturned nose in the air. Another yawn took over her, though she tried to stifle it with a hand in front of her face.

Hugo just looked at her.

“Okay, fine,” Eira said, hopping off Arthur. “Maybe I am a bit tired. But we don’t have anything to keep us warm tonight in the forest.”

“You think I’ve traveled Astra searching for you and the princess and have never slept in a forest? You think—” Hugo gestured to the bags on Arthur’s saddle and the bedroll strapped behind him “—that those don’t have at least enough for one of us to keep warm?”

“We went to an inn last night, though,” Eira pouted, her lower lip protruding in the way that it always did when Eira was trying to manipulate someone into doing what she wanted. It made Hugo chuckle fondly, despite himself.

“Because I could trust myself to stay awake last night. If it were me riding, I’d say we should continue. But it’s you, and I can’t take over like this.” He motioned to his still-bandaged arm.

“Ugh,” she said, throwing her arms up and letting them fall against her sides. “Fine, but this is barbaric.”

Hugo laughed as he turned to Arthur to start fishing out blankets for Eira’s bedding. They could get to Fallstead the next day, and then Hugo would try to figure out a path so that he and Eira could retrace their steps from before she lost her memory. The princesshadto be somewhere; they just needed a moment to think without being chased down by the Iron Retinue.

It took only a few minutes for Hugo to use his good arm to get out the single bedroll he had on Arthur’s saddle, and then nearly fifteen minutes to walk Eira through how to start a fire. Admittedly, he was almost certain she’d never had to make a fire before her memory had been wiped, so it did make sense that she wasn’t particularly capable at it now.

Her rabbit hopped around the burgeoning fire, and Eira periodically scratched her beige-and-brown-speckled head as she laid out the blankets on the cold ground. Finally, she stood and brushed off her skirts, one hand resting on her cocked hip as she spoke. “There isn’t enough bedding for us both to sleep warmly... and I’m not sleeping next to you.”

“I don’t expect you to sleep next to me,” Hugo said, kicking a tree stump over to the fireside and sitting on it. He didn’t expect it but nevertheless wished he could. His arm was aching, though he was in so much less pain than he expected given the amount of damage his shoulder had taken, and his jaw was throbbing. He did not have the energy to argue with a beautiful, warmly lit, soft...annoyingviscountess.

The annoying, beautiful, lying viscountess. Hugo had spent nearly a decade guarding her and had been kept in the dark about her magic... or had Eira kept everyone around her in the dark deliberately? It had been a shock for Hugo to find her in her shop, and even more of a shock to learn that she was a capable potions witch. And then for him to discover that shecould also perform illegal magic? It made him question every minute he’d spent with her in the capital over all those years.

They sat in the quiet for a while as they warmed up, but Hugo could feel that Eira wanted to talk. He didn’t blame her.

“So,” she finally spoke, her hands stretched out toward the fire and the rabbit sitting on the blankets between them. “How am I supposed to believe this story you’ve told me?”

It was a fair question—and one Hugo wasn’t sure how to answer.

All he was certain of was that he knew the woman sitting in front of him like he knew the scars on his body. He’d spent every day with her for years in the Westcotte manor, and her father had insisted that Hugo protect Eira above even himself. He had watched her rebuke lords that wanted her attention as she grew through her twenties, himself just a few years older than her. And then, the revolution happened. Hugo still wasn’t sure how to tell Eira his place in the uprising... it was going to need to be a conversation for later in their journey. She’d already had a lot of history thrown at her in one evening.

“I know how jarring this must feel for you,” he said, hunching forward on the stump and putting his elbows on his knees, his shoulder aching with the movement.

“Do you?” she interjected, head tilted, her auburn hair a mess around her face. The fire made her skin glow and he felt the urge to kiss her again—he had to get it under control. Hugo had to remember thatthisEira didn’t know who he was, that he was a complete stranger to her.

“Probably not, actually,” he answered.

“Yeah,” she said quietly.

“I know... I know you don’t remember me, Eira. But there was once a time when I watched over you every day. Those memories aren’t gone for me.” Neither were the memories of wishing he could kiss her at balls, or in the Westcotte home. Itwas all still there for Hugo, building up every moment he was with her again. She looked at him, stormy gray eyes glistening as if she was on the brink of tears. He knew the way her brow crinkled meant she was trying to hold them back. He was going to kill whoever did this to her.

“What can I do to help you feel more comfortable?” he said, meeting her gaze. It was the best he could do with all familiarity gone between them. He remembered asking her that the first day he’d met her all those years ago, when she’d felt like his presence in the home was too much. They sat in silence for a moment, his words hanging between them. Hugo desperately hoped her answer wasn’t going to be “part ways.” Unfortunately, that was the one option not on the table. However much he wanted to comfort the viscountess, he had a bigger mission to complete—locating the princess and ensuring her safety and protection until they could figure out who to ally themselves with to get the Iron Empire out of power.

“Honestly, I think I need you to just treat me like the person I am now... not someone I don’t remember being.” Eira sighed. “And I don’t think it would be helpful for me to be bombarded with information about a life I don’t remember. This is already so overwhelming to begin with.”

“You don’t want to knowanythingabout who you were?” Hugo was shocked, hoping he misunderstood her.

“No, no.” She shook her head. “Iwantto know about the things I ask about. If I ask, Iexpectyou to tell me what I want to know. But if I don’t... I don’t know, maybe you can make a judgment call?”

“That’s perfectly reasonable,” Hugo answered quickly, agreeing to her wishes. He hated it, though. He had so much familiarity with the viscountess and now he had to... what? Reintroduce himself to her? Years of history, down to how her brow crinkled when she was upset, and he just had to... keep pretending he didn’t know it?

They sat in silence, save for the crackle of the fire and the distant howls of creatures in the forest, until Eira curled herself into the blankets she’d laid beside the fire. Hugo’s arm throbbed less and less as the hours went on, and once he was sure Eira was asleep he began peeling the bandage off his shoulder to assess the damage. A poultice from a talented potions witch sped up healing, but he knew he was going to be out of commission for at least a few days, and that worried him.

He set the bandage on his lap and brushed the poultice away to reveal a nearly healed arm. What had been a dangerously deep gash was nothing but a superficial line in his skin. A chill rushed through Hugo as he looked to Eira, deep in slumber. This was not potions magic alone; he knew it in his core, years of memories racing through his mind as he tried to pinpoint if he’d ever seen Eira cast any sort of magic. When nothing came to him, he finally believed that the woman he’d been in love with for years, his assignment, the viscountess he’d been desperately searching for, had been lying to him the entire time he knew her.