“How can we trust you when you allowed Erzsébet to murder your wife and you did nothing? Are the rumors true? Are you bedding her since she resembles your beloved Viorica?”
Ágota throws back her arm, a ball of black energy – a death spell – forming in her palm. Henrietta grabs her wrist, shaking her head.
“He is trying to prove you are dangerous,” she whispers.
With a grunt, Ágota extinguishes it.
Face flushed with fury, Balázs draws himself upright, glaring at the man seeking to usurp him. “Erzsébet is my ward. I love her as a daughter. She is the coven’s Battlewitch and—” Balázs stops himself from defending his decisions, realizing he is falling into the trap Fülöp laid before him. He is only proving Fülöp’s charges that he favors us above his people.
“Your time is done, Balázs. We cannot trust you to defend us, so I have stepped forward to claim that authority. I have signed a treatise with King Charles’ captain. I will serve as his castle warrior and raise his banner above this castle, saving us from a siege. The coven will remain a secret from the outside world and be protected from all harm.”
“Traitor!” on
e of Balázs’s devotees yells.
“No! Balázs is the traitor!”
“You have no right!”
“This is not our way!”
The voices reverberate around me like slung arrows on a battlefield. Every single one strikes deep into Balázs. I feel it acutely. The powerful man is physically and magically strong, but his heart is tender. He loves those in the coven and their rejection of his rule is devastating. Ágota releases me from her spell and I twist around to throw myself into Balázs arms. He embraces me before gently pushing me aside. It is his turn to step forward and make his stand. When he stops within a foot of the protection spell surrounding his former coven, the insults and cries of the witches fade into silence.
The seconds tick by, the tension mounting with each one that passes. Ágota’s fingers flex and twist and a protective circle surrounds us and Balázs. As Battlewitch, I can sense the rising need to unleash violence on my enemies. The rapidly beating hearts of the witches sound like war drums.
“So be it,” Balázs says at last. “I will depart with my daughters and any who wish to follow.”
Fülöp gasps, startled by this abrupt pronouncement. Several witches behind him pat his shoulders and relief sweeps over the faces of his supporters.
“I will not fight to retain my authority here. I will not fight or kill another witch. We are all that remains of our world. We will leave within the hour.”
Balázs does not wait for Fülöp to agree. Striding from the room, Balázs motions for us to follow him from the great hall and we obey. All the witches that stood with us gather in the hallway.
“Ágota, cast the spell,” her father orders.
Bringing her hands together, Ágota whispers an incantation and a powerful spell ripples through the castle. She weakly slumps against the wall when it finishes, but nods to her father. “It is done.”
“Time is stopped for all within the castle, save us. Pack swiftly and join me here. We leave in a quarter of an hour before the spell finishes,” he instructs the loyal witches.
I take hold of Ágota’s hand, infusing her with a bit of my magic. She gives me a grateful look before we race through the hallways past guards and servants frozen in place. The air shimmers with the power of the spell and I cast a worried look at my sister as she runs at my heels. She looks pale, for she’s exerted a large portion of her power, yet she gives me an encouraging smile.
“How did you know you would need this spell?”
“Father had me lay the sigils for the spell long, long ago. It was agreed I would activate it should this day come.”
“So he knew,” I say, not certain if I am relieved by this revelation.
“He is much cleverer than you think, Erzsébet. Now collect your things.”
In my room, I pack a bag with two of my favorite dresses, the letters from Albrecht, and the book of spells I have been writing since my magic manifested. I hoist it over my shoulder and glance over my room one last time. I feel no sorrow at leaving this place as I did the cottage in the wood where I had lived so happily with my mother. I would rather lose my home than the man who treats me as his daughter.
When I return to the hall, Ágota is waiting with our mother’s magus bag. She opens it for me so I may drop my bag inside and she slings it over her shoulder.
“We need to learn how to make more of those,” I say.
“Trust me, I am trying to discover the spell.”
We sprint through the halls and down the narrow stairwells to the hallway where the others are already waiting. Balázs’s army of cats is gathered at their feet. The felines are usually scattered about the castle sunbathing, but they are all in attendance with their ears slightly slanted back from their faces. They only favor Balázs. For years I have tried to pet them to no avail. When he approaches, their ears straighten and they lean forward to watch him.