27 Eira #2
and by then we couldn’t get out of Cilirien without being questioned.”
Eira racked her brain desperately, trying to recall how a memory spell worked, but nothing came to her. That part of her abilities was stuck behind the door she’d locked herself, so she couldn’t answer Evangeline’s questions about her own motivations those years ago.
“How did I even know how to do memory magic?” Eira asked as she rested her chin on her fist, still shocked that she had the
capability at all.
Evangeline watched Eira for a moment before she answered. “Eira, there wasn’t a type of magic you couldn’t do.”
A shiver rolled down Eira’s spine—what did Evangeline mean?
“You’re telling me . . .”
“I don’t want to freak you out because I know how hard the other day was for you when you conjured the vines, but . . . Eira,
you can do it all.”
“Oh,” she said, looking down at her hands, the hands she used to conjure vines and create potions and summon Beatrice. What
did that make her? A witch without a specific type of magic wasn’t something Eira had ever heard of . . . maybe because they
didn’t, or shouldn’t, exist.
“You told me you’d be back to being you in six months, and then you just . . . never came back to me,” Evangeline continued,
her voice hitching and sad as she spoke, all that she had lost hanging between the two of them.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Turn back into a person and tell me everything Hugo told me?” Eira asked, her hands anxiously clasping
and unclasping together as she thought about the implications of her power.
“I had a plan to . . . eventually. I just didn’t know how to tell you, or what we would do after I did, and then time passed,
and you seemed happy. I was miserable, but safe. I was still figuring it all out when Hugo showed up.” Evangeline rolled her
eyes before turning to Eira and leaning in. “I didn’t tell Hugo this because I wanted you to know first.”
“What?” Eira leaned back, shocked.
“I’ve been doing my own digging on my nights at the Honeyed Horn, and I’ve heard a rumor about a living memory witch in the northeast—near Luwha.” Luwha was on the other side of the country, close to the ports that traded with Osnia.
“Here’s what I’m thinking,” she said, turning and clasping her cold hands onto Eira’s. “We steal the horse—it clearly likes
you. We ride to the witch, get your memory back, and then we flee to Osnia.”
Eira shook her head in disbelief. “What? Why would we leave Astra?”
“Because the country has outlawed your existence and already thinks I’m dead,” Evangeline answered, voice firm and resolute.
“There’s nothing left for us here.”
“But Hugo was searching for you for a reason. Astra needs you,” Eira explained.
“Maybe I don’t want to be in Astra after what it did to my family.” Evangeline clenched her jaw, the muscle bulging at the
mention of her family. It wasn’t an unreasonable ask for Evangeline to want to get out of Astra, but if she’d had this plan
for so long, why didn’t she leave before?
“I don’t think that’s true,” Eira said, eyes narrowing. “You could have left at any time in the last three years, and I wouldn’t
have known. Hugo would have found me, and we wouldn’t have found you. If you truly wanted to go to Osnia, you would have gone.”
Evangeline watched her silently, gaze hardening.
“You even exposed yourself to us . . . you made that choice,” Eira continued. “I think it would be easier to flee to Osnia, but I don’t think you want to, truly.”
“Are you sure your memory is gone?” Evangeline said. “Because that’s an awfully good read on me for someone who doesn’t remember
me.”
“It doesn’t take a genius, Evangeline . . . just someone who sees what’s in front of them.”
“I want to get away from the commander,” Evangeline complained.
“Why?” Eira asked, cringing at Evangeline calling him that again. “He’s saved my life several times already, and the Iron
Empire clearly wants him dead. Whoever he was before, I think he’s changed.”
“I think he’s a snake that will do what he needs to survive,” Evangeline sniffed.
Eira looked at Evangeline, at the rage simmering behind her eyes and settling into her thick brows, drawing them lower. What
had Hugo done to Evangeline specifically to make her hate him this much?
“Evangeline, we need him. After we get my memory back we need to figure out how to get Astra out of the hands of the Iron
Empire, and Hugo has a plan,” Eira said.
“A plan he hasn’t bothered to tell you yet.”
“We were focused on finding you first!” Eira retorted, but Evangeline was right, and Eira hated that she was. Eira’s heart
reached out for Hugo, and her body lit up when they touched, but there was a part of her that was so unbelievably frustrated
with him for not telling her the truth of things. She didn’t want to have to defend him like this; she wanted him to be transparent
with her.
“I suspect that he’s got some trust issues after his time in the Iron Retinue,” Eira justified, leaning back on her elbows
on the soft, worn bedspread.
“I suspect he’s got a lot of issues,” Evangeline sniped back, looking down at Eira.
“Well,” Eira said, pushing herself off the bed and standing. “I would like to stick with him, if only for protection and to
figure out what he wants with us.”
“He could kill us in our sleep,” Evangeline said.
“He hasn’t yet,” Eira responded.
“You’re so pigheaded,” Evangeline scoffed, crossing her arms indignantly.
“From my understanding, that is who I’ve always been.” Eira smiled brightly.
“It is,” Evangeline answered. “Fine, we’ll stay—for now. Just be careful, okay?”
Eira placed her hand on Evangeline’s shoulder, causing the princess to flinch.
“Sorry,” Evangeline said as she placed her palm on Eira’s. “Just not used to people touching me when I’m . . . a person.”
“Let’s go get something to eat,” Eira said. The princess was harsh and angry, but Eira wondered how much of that was born
out of living in fear for her own life for the past three years. Living in terror that you’d be executed would probably do
that to just about anyone, and it seemed like somewhere down deep, Evangeline only wanted to make sure they were both safe.
Eira wondered if that was something Evangeline and Hugo could bond over, if they could speak civilly for long enough without
killing each other.