The Impaled Bride Read online

  “Your sister wants this marriage.”

  “She is a little girl!”

  “Who seems of a strong mind.”

  “No! You do not understand! She needs to stay with me! I need to protect her! Mother told me so!”

  “Ágota, you have done exactly as you promised. Yes, the situation here will be a bit dramatic for a time, but I will protect you and Erzsébet. I understand and accept what Soffia and some of the other witches are capable of and I will not abide any hostility toward you. I am the greater witch. I will not abide anyone coming against either one of you. Ever.”

  “You are not my father,” I point out.

  “No, I am not, but we are both witches. We share the blood of another world.”

  “Can I call you father?” I have decided I like Balázs very much. Everything about him reminds me of Ágota. Additionally, he has honored my wish to marry Albrecht.

  “Not in front of Soffia,” he says, and tugs on the end of my braid.

  “You do not understand, Father!” Ágota leans over the desk and stares at him in desperation.

  “You love your sister. I understand you do not want to be parted from her. You will have many years with her here in the castle before she departs. That is the way of life, Ágota. One day, you, too, will make the choices for your future. Who will father the new Archwitch with you? Will you stay here? Or venture out into the world? This is life, Ágota.”

  Close to tears, Ágota mutters, “I have seen many possible futures for her and I do not like most of them.”

  “That I completely understand,” her father answers. “You have just returned to me and I already fear the moment you will leave.”

  Rushing around the table, Ágota throws herself into his arms and clings to him, sobbing piteously. I sense that all her fears and sorrow she has hidden from me so well during our journey have at last manifested. Balázs holds her close with one arm and stretches out his other to me. I join the embrace and lean my head against his shoulder.

  “Nothing bad can happen to her. Nothing,” Ágota sobs. “I will not let it. I will stop it.”

  Those words break the spell and echo in my ears as I am drawn away to the mausoleum.

  Fingertips tracing the carving on the bier, my thoughts linger on this last recollection. I had completely forgotten that moment in Balázs’s study. Muddled with pain and frustration, I ponder my sister’s warning. Ágota was long gone by the time Vlad imprisoned me in the mausoleum, but she had sworn to protect me and vestiges of her magic linger in the world.

  “Help me, Ágota,” I whisper in desperation.

  Even from beyond the Veil, Ágota may yet be my salvation.

  Chapter 13

  The curse upon me is particular in which memories it allows me to recall with such lucidity it is as though I am reliving my past. Upon rumination, it appears evident that this dark magic does not dawdle with the mundane days of my life, but only those formative to my evolution. I wish the curse would allow me the pleasure of reliving one day alongside my sister where we simply went about our lives in Balázs’s castle. Those are the memories I long to remember, but I fear are lost to the haze of time.

  My recollections of growing up in the castle are sparse. I do recall my sister pretending to teach me spells while funneling her magic through me, the opulent bedroom we shared that was fit for a princess, and some of the happy moments we spent with Balázs. Though he was not my father by blood, he regarded me as his ward and was very fatherly in his attention. In return, I adored him even though he could be a strict disciplinarian when I defied him.

  “I miss him,” I say aloud to the darkness of the mausoleum.

  The only answer is the scuffling of rats as they feast upon the remains of the gypsy girl.

  My isolation is crushing my spirit.

  The curse provides both solace and agony. It is comforting to see Ágota’s wild smile, Albrecht’s dark eyes, and Balázs’s fatherly admiration again, but, in the aftermath of my visions, I am lonelier than ever before. In spite of my determination to defy my husband, I find myself yearning for Vlad’s comfort to assuage the isolation I suffer. It is in these weak moments it is easy to forget his cruelty and only remember the passion between us. Even now, lying here as his captive, I struggle to remind myself as to why I have chosen to turn away from him. The temptation to relent is always enticing, but tonight I am close to surrendering.

  For that reason, I hope Vlad does not make an appearance tonight or brings Cneajna once again to visit. I need to harden my heart and strengthen my resolve before I see either one of them again. I cannot falter. I will find another way to liberty that will not send me to my knees before him.

  “Will I ever find release from this torment?” I murmur.

  “Loving someone so deeply is often difficult,” Balázs says from the shadows.

  “Why does love fade?” I ask turning my face to gaze upon the apparition conjured by either the curse or my distraught mind. “And must it always? Am I doomed to a broken heart?”

  Stepping from the darkness, Balázs crosses his muscular arms over his chest, his chin tucked close to his neck as he ponders my question. “I pray not. I do not wish for you to suffer such a fate. If not for Ágota and you, my heart would be a cold, empty place indeed.”

  “Do you love me? Even though I am not your daughter?”

  The big man smiles and lays his hand on the top of my head. “Of course, dearest, Erjy.”

  The mausoleum fades away until I stand before him, a young woman of fourteen. The sun blazes through the windows, illuminating the red in his hair and beard. He is not glamoured but appears as his true self. His study is cold despite the sunshine this wintery day. The flames in the fireplace only press back the worst of the icy air, but I am warm beneath the fur mantle of my cloak.

  “Why do you even ask?” He ruffles my hair before retreating behind a desk overburdened with reports, letters, and ledgers.

  “I overheard some members of the coven discussing the possibility of Soffia having a child. She has not been particularly well in the mornings,” I answer. “It was implied that I will finally be set in my proper place if this happens.”

  The notion rankles. I rather like the station I carry in his household. As Balázs’s ward, I am given respect and treated well. Ágota mocks me for she rather dislikes the airs she is expected to exude when dealing with servants, the coven, and dignitaries while I take to such behavior quite easily. Perhaps it is because I am aware of my future as a countess, but I enjoy being taught how to be a proper young lady of a certain standing.

  Balázs shakes his head. “Soffia is not with child. She merely ate something that was tainted.”

  My fingers flex around the hilt of my rose dagger. I always wear it on my belt as a reminder of Albrecht. “Why do not you have children other than Ágota?”

  It is a question I was warned to never ask by my tutor, Henrietta, the red-haired witch from England. I dare to ask now since my position in the castle household is being questioned. It annoys me immeasurably that members of the coven anticipate the day I am ousted from Balázs’s good graces.

  With a sigh, he settles in his grand chair. The carved branches sprouting from the back of his seat cast shadows over his face, deepening the lines of worry. “There is much I have not discussed with you about the Witch World. Why we came here, why Ágota is so important to our future, and why you may be important to our future. I have withheld information from you so that you could enjoy being a young lady of my household until such a time when the burdens that rest of my shoulders must also weigh on yours.”

  “And when will that be?”

  “When you marry,” Balázs answers. “That time may come sooner than you anticipate, Erjy. You will be fifteen in a few months. Wirich has made overtures for us to arrange your marriage within the year.”

  “Truly?” I am not certain I find the idea enticing or not.

  “I would rather wait until you are eighteen.

&nb
sp; “And if he should ask, what will happen?”

  “Should that happen, I will delay your marriage a few years in order for Ágota to properly train you. Though you have demonstrated formidable magical abilities, you may not have yet come into your power fully. There is still the possibility that you will become an Archwitch like your sister when you reach full adulthood.”

  “Oh?”

  Ágota still hopes I will manifest my own magic soon, but she hasn’t discussed with me the possibility of being an Archwitch.

  “Most likely you are not an Archwitch. You might be a Grandwitch, like me, or even a Battlewitch. You are already showing signs of being a great warrior,” he adds with a slight smile.

  I have never told anyone about the man at the stream or how unaffected I was by taking a life. I ask cautiously, “Why would you say that?”

  “You have become deadly with that,” he replies, gesturing with one finger toward my dagger.

  Upon observing my attachment to the weapon, Balázs arranged for me to be instructed in the proper way to wield it. It pleases me that he trusts that I am able to defend myself. I can now wield my knife as effectively as any man in battle. I am very proud of this fact.

  “But in time, we shall see your true power. Of that, I have no doubt.” Balázs laces his hands together and rests them against his chest as he leans back in his chair. “Wirich is anxious to bring you into his household. He hopes that you will restore magic to his lineage, but that may not be so easy.”

  “Oh?” I tilt my head, regarding him with interest.

  “This is not known to many outside our race, but because you are a witch you may struggle to bring children into this world. We are very long-lived and have many years in which to try to procreate, but it is a great struggle.”

  “Why? Is it because we are not native to this world?” I have learned to address myself as a witch to preserve my standing with the coven.

  “That is one theory. The other is the reason why the coven is not particularly fond of your sister and was often hostile to Viorica. When the Archwitches realized the Witch World was dying, they decided to abandon it to our enemies. They conspired to drain what remained of magic from the ley lines of the Witch World and rupture the barrier between worlds so we could escape. They did not consult anyone outside their chantry and their plan horribly failed. They drained us, too, the regular witches. We are not nearly as powerful as we once were and many survivors resent what we lost. We came through the rift into a new world weakened and at the mercy of new found enemies. The Archwitches died defending the exodus and closing the portal, but their actions sowed a bitter seed in our hearts. Viorica was the only Archwitch to survive and the magic of our world that dwelled in her is now in Ágota. And, possibly, in you.”

  “So instead of holding the Archwitches in high esteem for their ingenuity and sacrifice, they are vilified because they weakened the lesser witches?” I frown at the ridiculousness.

  Balázs chuckles. “You sound and look exactly like your mother at this moment.”

  His words unsettle me and he notices.

  “What is it, Erjy?”

  I hesitate, uncertain if I want to divulge what I had overheard from members of his coven. How could I tell this kind man that people suspect he wishes to replicate his affair with Viorica with me because I strongly resemble her? I do not for a moment believe the gossip. Balázs has treated me as a daughter. Perhaps his fondness for me has only added to the resentment among the other witches because I do look so much like my mother.

  “I just do not understand how they could be angry at Ágota and my mother. They were not the ones who made those choices,” I say instead of expressing my true thoughts.

  “When you are long-lived, you tend to remember the injustices more than the joys of life. Something which I grapple with myself. It would be good for our kind if you were an Archwitch as well. And if your children were, too. In Ágota I see the revitalization of our race. She is a child of this world and the magic that was so foreign to us when we first arrived here welcomes her. I see the same in you.”

  It bothers me that we lie to him about my abilities. Ágota’s ring on my finger protects me in more ways than one. If he knew I was merely a mortal young girl would he still love me?

  “So why does the coven despise Ágota if she is the promise of a new future?”

  Balázs wearily sighs, his fingers plucking at one of the ledgers on his desk. “Has she said something to you about their hostility?”

  I giggle, amused that he would think I would be oblivious to the poison stares my sister and I receive whenever we are included in the coven activities. “It does not bother Ágota, but it does upset me.”

  “It upsets me as well, Erjy. I am saddened to hear you have noticed the conflicts within the coven.”

  Balázs has kept us apart from Soffia and her coterie as much as possible. We only see her on a rare occasion. The castle is large enough that we can spend many weeks without interacting with Soffia’s faction. While I study with my tutor to become a proper young lady, Ágota spends much of her time with Balázs practicing her magic.

  “I suspect my sister rather enjoys provoking those who dislike her,” I admit. “She is not wholly innocent.”

  Balázs starts to chuckle. “I suppose the conflict has been far more evident than I would like to admit. I do try to protect you and Ágota.”

  The door to the study is opened with such ferocity it bangs against the wall. Ágota hovers a few inches above the ground on the other side of the threshold with her hair in wild disarray and her black gown and cloak disheveled and flecked with snow. She glides in on her toes and the door slams shut behind her. Eyes gleaming bright green, she scowls at her father.

  “This will not be pleasant,” Balázs mutters.

  “Your wife has forbidden me from speaking to her maid,” she says, voice low and furious.

  “The one you seduced, I take it.” Balázs looks like a weary father all at once.

  “It was a mutual seduction,” Ágota sniffs.

  “We have had this discussion before, Ágota. When you distract Soffia’s servants from their duties, it upsets her.”

  “She also complained about the town seamstress when I bedded her,” Ágota grouses.

  “Because you delayed her gown for the solstice being completed on time.”

  “And the cook.”

  “Who burned the boar because she was entangled with you in the cold-room.”

  “It was not that cold when we were done.”

  “Ágota…” Balázs rubs his brow wearily.

  Ágota rolls her eyes. “I am not to blame for all that goes awry in this castle.”

  “You have seduced more fair maidens than I did in my youth, Ágota. There will be drama!” Balázs attempts to sound stern, but he looks too amused. “If you picked just one-”

  “I did and she was married off to that imbecile, Fülöp.” Ágota scowls at the memory. “I loved her so and she loved me. We were so blissfully happy.”

  “She was Fülöp’s intended, Ágota. Your romance was doomed to end.”

  “They are all doomed to end.” Ágota slumps over his desk, lying upon the piles of reports and ledgers.

  “Your adoration of pretty young girls is legendary in this castle, but you must understand that most of those pretty young girls will be marrying handsome young men.”

  “It is so unfair,” Ágota whines.

  I step forward to pat her back. “There, there, Ágota. One day you will find your true love.”

  “I want many true loves, otherwise I will be so very, very bored.”

  “Must I remind you that one day you will need to pick a male witch to have a child with, Ágota?”

  “Not this conversation again.” Ágota lifts her head, her lips twisted in a snarl. “A male lover! How grotesque!”

  “Unless Erzsébet ascends to being an Archwitch, you are the hope of our race.”

  “Ugh! So disgusting!” Ágota slumps
onto the floor and lays there sprawled upon the wolf fur rug.

  Staring down at my sister, I admire her dramatics. She always expresses exactly how she feels. I envy her for I find that it comes rather naturally to me to pretend to be unperturbed by the world around me. I rather people believe I am obeying the rules of society than see the true darkness inside my soul. I rather be underestimated.

  “Your wife hates me,” Ágota laments. “She deliberately makes everything so difficult.”

  “My wife is a complicated creature with her own struggles,” Balázs answers. “As you well know.”

  “She followed us out into the garden during our lover's rendezvous and screamed at me like I am a child. I was sorely tempted to shift her to the top of the castle, but I refrained. For you, Father!”

  “For which I am immensely pleased for she would have complained for days like the last time.”

  “How was I to know that common witches cannot fly without rituals cast by the coven?”

  “You are powerful, Ágota, and must use your magic wisely. Tormenting Soffia is a waste of your time and only causes the coven to distrust you and your sister.”

  Ágota sits up abruptly. “Erjy is innocent. She is pure and good. They have no right.”

  “We have had this conversation before, Ágota. Today I repeated it with Erjy. You know the difficulties Soffia and the others suffer because we are not of this world. You must make allowances for their frustration.”

  “I did not take their power! I was not the one who reduced their abilities! I refuse to be blamed!”

  Listening to father and daughter speak, it is evident that I have been excluded from much of the coven intrigue. I resent being sheltered in such a manner. After all, I have endured in my short life, I am no naive child. Though I appreciate the sentiment behind shielding me from the drama of the coven, I resolve to not be so ill-informed in the future.

  There is a rap on the door and Balázs summons the person into the room. It is Fülöp, the handsome young man I noticed the first day of our arrival who obviously disdained Ágota and me. As one of Balázs’s closest aides, I have to deal with his dour looks in my direction quite often. Ágota loathes him with good reason since he married her beloved. He regards both of us with his usual contempt, but is smart enough to step past Ágota with caution. He, too, spent time atop the castle in a snowstorm thanks to my sister.