Page 51 of The Iron Hex

“I know exactly what I’m talking about,” Evangeline snarled. “And if you’re not careful I’ll start telling her things you don’t want her to know, evenifshe asked not to know unless she specifically asked.”

Thiswas the Evangeline De Clare he remembered: brazen and argumentative. But there was something else to her, an edge in her voice that hadn’t been there before. Hugo imagined it stemmed from whatever she’d had to deal with over the last few years. Evangeline didn’t know how conflicted he was. How, yes, he wanted nothing more than to touch Eira, but was it fair to Eira for him to act on his feelings when she couldn’t remember their history?

“Are you... okay?” Hugo asked in an attempt to change the subject. “Being stuck as a rabbit and losing your best friend can’t have been easy.”

Evangeline’s snarl faltered for a moment as she looked past Hugo in the direction Eira had gone. He could hear her splashing water in the distance—she’d be back any minute.

“I’m as okay as anyone whose entire family was executed and then needed to become a shape-shifting rabbit in order to survive would be doing.”

“So, not well?”

“Most definitely not well,” she answered tartly, refusing to meet Hugo’s eyes as she stared into the fire.

“What made you change your mind, Commander?” Evangeline asked, finally looking up at him. “You hated my family,you hated our monarchy, you hated everything about it, so why are you here? Shouldn’t you be working toward being the heir—sorry—‘next in line’ for lord general?”

“You sound bitter that you lost,” Hugo said mildly.

“I am,” Evangeline said. “We were betrayed by our closest allies—who wouldn’t be bitter?”

They watched each other, and Hugo wondered if he’d made a mistake. Did they truly need the return of the De Clares? Was Evangeline the right leader to take back the throne?

“You didn’t answer my question,” she said expectantly.

“The Iron Empire isn’t what I thought it was,” Hugo said as he stood, not wanting to talk about this again. “I’m going to find Eira.”

He heard the princess scoff as he turned and walked into the forest, searching for the dim light of Eira’s lantern by the creek. He heard Eira before he saw her, sniffling and mumbling to herself.

“Hey,” he said as he stepped into the clearing.

Eira jumped, hand flying to her chest. Hugo had to remind himself not to stare at her as she was bathed in moonlight, her pale skin cool and almost blue beneath its glow.

“You startled me,” she exclaimed, then jumped again as an eagle’s sharp cry rang through the quiet of the night.

“Sorry,” Hugo said, anxiously running his fingers through his hair. “I wanted to talk.”

“About what?” Eira said, crossing her arms and cocking an ample hip. “The part where you were a commander for the Iron Empire, or the part that my beloved rabbit was actually myhumanbest friend? Or maybe the part where I’m the one who did this to myself, apparently?”

“I was going to let you guide the conversation, actually,” Hugo answered. The catatonic state Eira had been in hadn’t lasted long, and he could easily tell that she was mad. Mad wasgood; mad was feeling. Eira needed to feel to let this all out into the cold night air.

“Then let’s start with this—how much of your witch hunting factored into you finding me?”

“I didn’t know you were a witch, so not at all. I mostly used your physical description to see if anyone had seen you around. You tend to stand out,” Hugo answered as he watched Eira run her hands through the ends of her hair. “A man in a small village near Cilirien mentioned a potions witch who matched your description, and I wondered if you were pretending to be a witch in order to get by. But my witch hunting has made me very good at finding people, so maybe it helped in that way.”

“Fine, I can understand that.” Eira nodded as she walked toward Hugo and stood right in front of him, her soft features looking up at him. “How many witches did you kill?” she continued once she was standing near him, steely determination in her eyes.

Hugo paled at the question. The number was high—so high he knew there was no redemption for him in this life or the next, if there was a next. He worried more about what Eira thought, though; the vague notion of an afterlife was less important to him than her.

“Dozens,” he answered simply, watching Eira’s face for a reaction. He knew it was wrong, but he fleetingly wondered what she tasted like right now, with all that rage flying through her system.

“That’s... awful,” she whispered.

“Ask it,” Hugo said.

“Ask what?” she responded automatically.

“Ask me the question you want to ask.” Hugo knew it was coming, and he didn’t want to wait any longer. If Eira wanted to know, she needed to ask it now.

“I don’t know if I want to know the answer.” She shook her head nearly imperceptibly.