Ágota slides one finger under the flap, threatening to break the seal. “How about I read it to you?”
“No! Not again!” I made the mistake of leaving one letter upon my bed and Ágota tormented me by reading aloud the most syrupy portions.
It has been a month since I last heard from Albrecht. Ever since I turned sixteen, he has been making a concerted effort to maintain a steady correspondence with me. I love reading about his life far away in Styria. I often imagine what he must look like now, a man of twenty-one. I am certain he is the most handsome man in the world. With my seventeenth birthday approaching, his letters have become much more amorous in tone as our impending nuptials loom before us.
With a gleeful grin, she breaks the seal and lunges to one side as I attempt to catch her. Floating out of my grasp, she dangles in the air while snapping the pages open. “My precious Erzsébet, as I sit at my desk at this late hour, know that these words are not written only in ink, but also with my most avid adoration.”
I leap after my sister, grabbing her wrist. We spin about in the air in a battle for Albrecht’s letter. Ágota blows on it, turning it into a bird that flutters across the room to land on the windowsill.
“Not fair, Ágota!” I shove her away with annoyance and drop to the floor.
My sister howls with laughter while drifting through the air, clutching her stomach.
Cautiously, I approach the avian poppet. The wax seal flakes off as the bird preens feathers made of parchment. The poppet tilts its head toward me, an eye made of one of Albrecht’s florid ‘O’s, watching me suspiciously. It hops forward on scrawny legs made of twisted paper.
“Be a nice bird and come to me. You were written for me, remember? You belong to me.”
The poppet appears to consider my words.
“Yes, come here. Be a good poppet.”
Ágota snaps her fingers. The bird cocks its head toward my sister. She whistles and it swoops off the windowsill toward her.
“You are such a cheater, Ágota!”
I pluck a book from my desk and hurl it at my sister. It, too, turns into a bird, a massive hawk which flies about the room chasing the frantic poppet. “Ágota, if your hawk eats my letter—”
The door to my room bangs open. Balázs stands in the doorway with his face flushed and his eyes blazing with fury. Immediately, Ágota, the hawk, and the bird all land on the floor, the two poppets returning to their true forms.
“I was only teasing her,” Ágota blurts out.
I fetch the letter as Balázs stalks into the room. His glamour is in place and he has added more lines about the eyes and mouth these last few years. I am always struck by the disparity between his true youthful appearance and his older disguise.
“This is not about you tormenting your sister, Ágota. Important matters are at hand.”
“What’s wrong, Father?” Ágota asks.
“King Charles has sent his army to demand my allegiance,” he answers in a grim voice. “They are in the valley below. I have dispatched Fülöp to deliver my terms for their surrender or withdrawal, but I doubt they will agree. King Charles has most likely sent them to lay siege outside our walls until I denounce Ladislaus Kán.”
After Ágota destroyed the troops sent to confront Balázs years earlier, King Charles has circumvented our lands while waging his battle against the oligarchs. Balázs had hoped the disappearance of the king’s men would spur rumors of his great battle prowess. Instead, the tale of the lost soldiers that spread far and wide featured vengeful ghosts and ghouls. Whether the king believed the supernatural stories or feared Balázs, is not known, but he kept his armies far from the castle.
“How will you respond?” Ágota sounds hoarse with fear and one hand flutters nervously against her skirts.
My sister’s trepidation does not deter me from speaking my mind. “We prepare for battle, of course.”
“Violence is not always the answer,” she retorts.
“In this world, it usually is the most viable solution.”
She winces at my reply, averting her face from me. My nature has driven a wedge between us that we do not often acknowledge. Ágota would rather pretend I am her innocent younger sister with a lovely future before me than acknowledge what I am. I cannot be so obtuse. As a battlewitch, it is my duty to fight in defense of the coven and town, just as it is hers to protect it. I honed my craft under Balázs tutelage during skirmishes between Balázs’s forces and a castle warrior loyal to King Charles. My magic is not as impressive as my sister’s, but it is potent. I am able to infuse soldiers with supernatural strength and agility. They fight harder, faster, and are able to suffer terrible wounds that would have downed them otherwise.
Balázs folds his arms across his broad chest and regards us with a somber expression. “It is a greater force than those we faced in the past. You will need to stand at your sister’s side on the battlefield, Ágota.”
“No, you promised me that she would not have to kill again,” I say in a firm voice. “She casts the protection wards! I fight!”
Out of the corner of my eye, Ágota blanches at our discourse. It took her nearly a month to recover from her first and only battle. I had stayed at her side while she wept for days on end, unable to live with the guilt of taking the lives of mortals. Balázs had been wise enough not to tell her I was a battlewitch until she was in a better state of mind to deal with the revelation. My sister received the news with disbelief. Though delighted that my heritage had manifested, she had been demoralized by the class of witch that is my legacy. Ágota always regarded me as an innocent and sweet girl and was horrified I had killed Soffia in her defense. It was even more difficult for her to accept that I am a warrior in heart and mind.
“She will need to feed power to you, much like the siphons. Ágota will not kill. She will assist you, Erzsébet.” Balázs focuses on his daughter’s pale face. “Ágota, Erzsébet needs you. It is a formidable force that has gathered outside our walls. It is obvious King Charles is done dealing with the oligarchs. He sent this army to crush us or force my surrender.”