“No, but he is a witch. Like me.” Ágota’s smirk returns as she twists her fingers and embers dance around them.
“Well, that is not very impressive,” Albrecht says with a shrug. “I once saw a magician make a hare appear out of his cap.
The entire table surges across the floor with a loud scraping sound and stops a few scant feet from the fireplace. It is so large and heavy it would take many men to maneuver it about. The bowls and cups remain perfectly in place, not spilling a drop.
With a feral grin, Ágota says, “What were you saying?”
Staring in shock, Albrecht does not answer.
Chortling, Wirich says, “Please return the table to its proper place, Ágota.”
Flicking her fingers, Ágota summons the table back.
Wirich rises from his chair and walks along the length of the table. His fingers drag over the smooth surface, and when he stands opposite of us, he leans forward on his knuckles.
“I have decided on your payment for passage through my lands,” Wirich informs Ágota.
“I might decide to be agreeable,” Ágota answers.
“I want you to deliver a sealed letter to your father for me.”
“That’s all?” Ágota is as surprised as I am.
“In these very uncertain times, it is wise to create relationships with other men of power.”
“Or women.” Dominique’s voice is as piercing as her gaze.
Wirich flinches. “Yes. Especially those with sharp teeth and a sharper tongue. My apologies.”
Lifting a shoulder, the vampire turns away from the conversation and disappears into the darker part of the room, which makes me rather nervous. Her teeth are very sharp, as is her sword.
“Your friend does not seem too pleased with you,” Albrecht says, smirking.
“She dislikes when I do not grant her the proper due,” Wirich answers. “Something you should keep in mind for your future. Do not upset the woman in your life.”
Albrecht scoffs at his father. “Yet you upset my mother.”
“That is a talk for another time.” Wirich focuses on my sister. “Are you agreed?”
“What will be in the letter?” Ágota asks.
“It will be a simple letter of introduction. That is all.”
“May I read it before you seal it?” Ágota meets the man’s gaze.
I sense the conversation has undercurrents I do not understand. Perhaps it is because he has fey blood in him, and she is possibly testing him.
“You may read the letter, Ágota,” Wirich promises her.
“And you will not alter it before the letter is sealed.”
“I will not.”
“Or have anyone else alter it.”
“Agreed.”
“No enchantments of any kind will be imbued on the paper.”