26 Hugo #2
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 my human best 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 was good; 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.
“Ask me anyway.”
“Are you going to kill me? Now that you know I’m not only a witch, but a witch who can do a lot more than just alchemical
magic?” she asked, her gaze bold and unflinching as she stared up into his eyes.
Hugo stepped forward, looming over her for a moment, and then wrapped his arms around her, her soft curves melting into him
as he embraced her tightly. She smelled like earth and herbs and something else he couldn’t name but had smelled on witches
before, and he wanted nothing more than to have protected her enough that she’d never have wondered if he’d hurt her. She
rested her face against his shoulder, still sensitive with the fresh scar under his clothing as her lips pressed into it.
It wasn’t a kiss, but Hugo wanted it to be.
“Eira,” Hugo whispered. “I will never harm you.”
“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it,” she whispered back, voice thick with emotion.
Hugo released her and placed his hands on Eira’s face. “I do not ever want to see you hurt, and I will never participate in
harming you. I will do everything in my power to protect you, I swear it.”
Eira looked at him for a moment, eyes glancing between his before she reached around him and hugged him herself.
He rewrapped his arms around her, placing his chin on the top of her head before taking a long, languid breath in through
his nose.
“Hugo,” she said, her voice muffled as she buried her chin in his shirt. “I need my memory back. There are too many gaps and
I feel like I’m at a disadvantage, whatever we do.”
“We’ll get your memory back, Eira. I’m going to make sure of it,” he answered, chin still resting on her head.
Hugo wondered if he had died and gone to the afterlife he didn’t expect, or if he was dreaming—the most beautiful woman he’d ever known had chosen to embrace him, to trust him.
All he could do was desperately hope he didn’t let her down like he’d let everyone else in his life down.
Even with everything he hadn’t told her yet, that he didn’t know if he should.
“Even if it means we go off track, I know you have a plan,” she said.
“My plan doesn’t matter if we aren’t able to do our best. We need your memories, Eira. They’re just as important as Evangeline,” Hugo said, knowing he was right. He wanted to go and find
their solution to the problem of the Iron Empire, but they wouldn’t be able to solve it with Eira two steps behind in her
own life. They needed her as she was before, not as she was now.