I actually do, but I say in a rather bored tone, “I suppose.” Though I am intrigued by this handsome boy, I do not want him to see me as too eager.
“Do not point it at either one of us,” Ágota orders.
Albrecht dismisses her with a sneer of his perfect lips while I climb off the bed and venture close to my sister’s side.
“This blade can kill any creature,” Albrecht says proudly while drawing the sword.
It is beautiful and unlike any weapon, I have seen before. Albrecht slowly rotates the blade so I can admire its beauty. Intricate engravings on the blade shimmer with white magic. I am awed by the great power I sense infused into the metal. He slashes it through the air and white light trails behind it.
“It cannot kill witches, so do not even try,” Ágota warns him.
Giving her a disbelieving look, Albrecht says, “I have no intention of killing you, but if I wanted to, this would be the blade to end you.”
“You can only kill witches in very particular ways. Ways you do not know, little boy.”
“I am fourteen. Nearly a man.” Albrecht straightens his spine and lifts his chin. “One day I will be Count Dolingen of Gratz, so do not underestimate me.”
Ágota lifts her eyes, muttering in Magyar under her breath.
Ignoring her, Albrecht points to the blade. “See, Erzsébet. It is infused with the greatest of magicks so no man can defeat me on the battlefield.”
“Does that mean you do not even have to try?” I ask curiously.
A startled expression shadows Albrecht’s face. “No, of course not. I must learn to fight without the benefit of this sword.”
Ágota laughs with dark humor. “But you will still cheat in battle with it, correct?”
“I really do not like you.” Albrecht pointedly glowers at her and I adore him all the more.
Though I love my sister, I aware of how terrifying she can be in the eyes of others. Albrecht does not even cower one little bit before her. Not only is he handsome, but fearless. I am utterly smitten. I have never felt so enthralled by anyone before. It is a giddy sensation.
“And I do not like you, Albrecht. Good thing you decided to marry Erzsébet and not me, hm?” Ágota lifts her eyebrows. “Though, you will not marry either one of us. I will make sure my father never agrees to such a thing.”
Sliding the sword back into its sheath, Albrecht ignores her. “Erzsébet, I promise that one day you will be Countess Dolingen of Gratz no matter what your sister says.”
Ágota’s portent from the day before springs to mind and I give her an inquiring look. She deliberately averts her gaze from me, her lips twisting into a frown. The castle is grand with its tall towers, battlements, large rooms, and elegant furnishings. Will this one day be my home? Will I one day be a countess? The thought excites me beyond measure.
“You really should return to your bed before I set you on fire.” Ágota summons the shimmering orb of magic from where it hovers in the air to her palm and it transforms into flame.
“You really should treat me with respect. This is my home.” Albrecht’s fingers tighten on the hilt of the sword.
The flames in the center of Ágota’s hand grow taller as she sneers.
“She is in a foul mood,” I say,
stepping between them. “Thank you for showing me your sword, Albrecht. It is lovely.”
Placated, Albrecht bows his head. “Until the morning, Erzsébet.” He steps into the secret passage and closes the door behind him. It melds seamlessly into the wall.
Ágota extinguishes the fire hovering over her palm with a dramatic wave of her hand.
“You could have been nicer,” I say.
Flicking her fingers, Ágota sends all the furniture in the room sliding across the floor to pile against the secret door. The covers on the bed spill onto the floorboards as it joins the barricade.
“How are we supposed to sleep now?” I ask testily.
“We are not. We are leaving. Now.”