“I can be so much more than you allow me to be,” Ágota says in a raw, desperate voice.
“I know, but this is not our world, Ágota. You cannot be all you could have been in the kingdom I ruled beyond the Veil. I am sorry.” Balázs kisses her forehead.
“Enough of this. I need to prepare and so do you, Ágota.”
Ágota grunts with frustration, throws up her hands at me, and storms out of the room.
With a weary sigh, Balázs turns to follow. “Meet me in the great hall when you are ready. We will discuss the battle plans then.”
The door shuts, leaving me alone.
Staring down at the letter in my hand, I realize I will not have the luxury of reading it. The immediacy of the threat is more important. When my maids arrive to help me dress, I tuck it into my chemise to wear close to my heart. I cannot prepare alone for the chainmail tunic I wear in battle is heavy and difficult to put on without assistance. A lightweight cotton slip keeps it from chaffing against my skin. Over the chainmail, I wear a green linen dress with the burning tree embroidered on the bodice. The maids lace me into my attire, help me into my knee-high boots, and slip my belt around my waist. I set my hand on my rose dagger in its sheath and wait patiently for the maids to finish plaiting my hair and pinning it in a bun on my head.
At last, I am prepared, and my blood virtually sings in my veins with anticipation. Leaving my room, I am escorted by two guards down to the great hall. From the heightened activity inside the castle, it is evident a battle is about to take place. Shouted orders in the courtyard below wafts through open windows and archers rush up the narrow stairwells to the high battlements.
Arriving in the great hall, I immediately sense an uncomfortable prickle in the air. Silence fills the room despite the hectic preparations outside. The coven is obviously awaiting my arrival. Most are assembled in one large congregation facing Balázs and a handful of coven members gathered at his back. Henrietta stands behind Balázs with her husband while Ágota is next to her father. My sister is dressed very similarly to me, though her dress is burgundy, not green. Her expression is tense, her eyes wide, and her hands are pressed to her waist. I notice that the burning tree flags are missing from the walls, and my stomach twists into a fierce knot. Balázs holds out his hand to me and I hurry to his side.
“What is happening?” I demand. “Why are we not we preparing for battle?”
Fülöp steps forward, clearly the spokesman for the majority of the coven gathered in what I can only assume is a protest against Balázs.
“The time has come for us to surrender to the will of the rightful king of Hungary,” Fülöp declares. “It is only a matter of time before the Voivode of Transylvania will bow to King Charles and make peace.”
Balázs remains stoic in the face of such defiance, yet I sense his rage brewing beneath his calm demeanor. “Until that time we stand with Ladislaus Kán. I vowed my loyalty to his family in exchange for this land.”
“That time is past. The Kán will bow or fall as all the others have before the power of King Charles. You are a fool to still stand with the voivode.”
“How dare you speak of the Grandwitch in that manner!” I exclaim.
“Be still, Erzsébet,” Balázs says, not unkindly, but he grips my wrist as though to stay my wrath. “It is not your place, Fülöp, to make such declarations. I rule here.”
“You cannot even control your ward, Balázs. How can you possibly rule? You have become a shadow of the man you once were since their arrival. You even allowed Viorica’s bastard to break your sacred law. Erzsébet murdered Soffia and yet stands at your side empowered by your indulgence.”
Ágota surges forward. “How dare you!”
“Your sister broke our laws, yet she remains unpunished!” Spittle flies from Fülöp’s lips and his eyes bulge with fury. Next to him, his wife places her hand on his arm as if to stay his anger. He shrugs off her attempt and takes a step forward. “Were you so unwise as to believe the coven would tolerate this violation? We petitioned for Balázs as Grandwitch to punish her, but he refused. He is weakened in his resolve because Erzsébet is the mirror image of Viorica!”
“Soffia attempted to kill me!” Ágota shouts. “My sister defended me!”
“She violated our laws—the laws Balázs made us all swear to uphold and then abandoned because of his lust for your sister!” Fülöp retorts.
“How dare you!” I storm toward Fülöp and the other witches. I am only stopped because Ágota anchors my feet to the floor. Forced to stand still, I realize my sister made a wise choice. The witches siding against Balázs have laid a protection spell on the floor, and it abruptly glows red in warning.
“You would use magic against us?” Balázs stares in disbelief at the men and women gathered behind Fülöp. The weight of their betrayal weighs heavily on me, so how much worse must it be for him? These people escaped to this world with him. He has spent years protecting them and now they stand with Fülöp.
“We would use magic to protect ourselves,” Fülöp answers. “I have asked you over and over again to bind the Archwitch and Battlewitch with a spell to the service of the coven. To shackle their headstrong inclinations and punish Erzsébet for killing Soffia. You have refused, unleashing them to destroy us!”
“Binding them would diminish their ability to do their duty,” Balázs responds in an even tone. “You know this, Fülöp.”
“You indulged them and they have weakened us!”
“If you are so enfeebled, why is there a protective circle around you?” Balázs hooks his fingers onto his belt, his hand dangerously close to his sword. “This is evidence that you are not weakened at all by the presence of the Archwitch and Battlewitch.”
Fülöp’s very handsome face is red with the heat of rage, but when he speaks his voice is ice. “I am nearly your equal in magical prowess, Balázs. I can defend this coven and this land against all those who would come against us from within and without. I laid the spell to protect the coven against you and your daughters.”
“I would never harm any of the coven!” Balázs roars.
I am satisfied to see most of the witches shirk.