The Iron Hex: A Captivating Fantasy Romance of Outlawed Magic and Forbidden Love

She hummed a song that the tavern's bard had been playing the night before—the bard was new to town, and so many of the songs he'd played she had never heard before. But this one had stuck in her head as if she'd known it her whole life. "'The wise witch watches, as the sweet soldier stares, the world waits for winter, the somber soul schemes...'"

Once she managed to shake the strange feeling, her morning routine became much more peaceful—as it usually was. She placed the bottles of potions on the tables where her customers could shop and refreshed her herb stocks for anyone who needed a custom potion that day.

"'The wise witch watches,'" she sang again.

She wished more witches had been wise. When she'd opened her shop a few years ago there were still some witches on the run, the ones whose magic had been outlawed. A wise witch would have pretended they weren't a witch at all, and then maybe some of them would have survived. Instead, Eira was left alone in Cilirien—not just the only potions witch in town, but the only witch entirely. The rest had been killed by the monsters of the Iron Empire for simply being able to wield the Flow...all because the lord general had deemed that all magic aside from alchemical castings, potions, and poultices was illegal.

Eira scolded herself for even thinking about the Flow. Even the term for Astra's magic was all but forbidden now. As if the potions witches who survived had forgotten where their magic came from...but nevertheless, she wasn't allowed to even reference the source of her livelihood anymore.

The shop bustled with customers coming and going, and the hours flew by. The bakery next door made the absolute best brisket Eira had ever had, so when her stomach's grumbling became too loud for her to focus on anything else, she headed over to grab something to eat quickly before bringing it back to the Potions Patisserie. As she handed Pennyroyal a bowl of fruits and vegetables and sat down to dive into the excellent-looking sandwich, the bell above the shop doorway sang in response to yet another customer interrupting Eira's respite. No rest for the wicked, she thought with a wry smile, standing and brushing her skirts off as she looked up at the most ruggedly handsome man she'd ever seen.

2

Rhona

Every morning, Rhona spent the first hour of her day carefully honing her blade, just as any dedicated knight would. She relished the rhythm of it, polishing until it was shiny enough to reflect the faces of her enemies before they had the opportunity to strike.

The life of a knight had been relatively calm since the new regime had installed itself three years prior. It was a time of peace for the realm, and although Rhona dreamed of glorious war, she was also simply happy to have been good enough to be chosen.

She nodded to the other knights as she strode through the halls to the lord general's quarters. Her cropped dark waves danced as a stiff breeze blew through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Great Hall, her footsteps in her plate armor echoing on the stone floors.

Rhona walked through the old throne room, a long empty hall that the Iron Empire kept completely bare as a symbol of their power, and through the back door to the lord general's office.

She saluted, standing at attention, her armor clinking as she raised her hand to the Iron Empire sigil on her chest. She watched him, stock-still, as he glanced up from the map of the realm meticulously carved into the top of the heavy desk he sat at to look at her.

In the bloody aftermath of the uprising three and a half years ago, the lord general had taken control of Astra and freed its citizens from the unjust tyranny of the De Clare dynasty. He was, and would always be, the leader Rhona aspired to be. To her joy, Lord General Kerrigan had taken leadership of her regiment when her previous commander had fled the capital, leaving her under the direct report of the lord general—an honor she hadn't expected to experience until she'd climbed much higher in the Iron Empire's ranks.

"Sir Rhona," the lord general spoke as he stood. "You may be at ease."

"Thank you, Lord General," Rhona said, her eyes meeting his easily. She was tall for a woman, having eclipsed her mother's height from just twelve years old. The size that she had once been insecure about now made her more of a powerful knight, an opportunity solely granted to her by Lord General Kerrigan and his willingness to see her potential. The Iron Empire had seen her abilities, treasured her loyalty, and for that she would serve them for her entire life.