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As we depart, I stare at Balázs with fury. A sigh escapes his lips and he lowers his eyes. My anger against him wavers for he does seem to understand the gravity of his decision.

My sister impatiently pulls me along behind her through the corridors to our room. Her fingers are icy and her grip painful. I attempt to pull free, but she does not relent. Perhaps she’s afraid I will turn back to scold Balázs.

Once inside our room, she casts a spell to shield us from all prying eyes and ears.

As soon as the spell takes hold, I blurt out my fear, the one that I kept to myself in the study. “I am not a witch. You need four to stand as your siphons!”

“Do not worry.” She strips naked and bathes at the wash basin set near the fireplace.

“I will worry. I am your sister. You will not be properly supported by including me and that may cause you harm.”

“You are witch born. That is enough. When I pull the magic through you, do not fight it.” Ágota finishes and pulls on a fresh black dress. It is one of her fancier ones with ruffles, tucks, and black fur on the hem and sleeves.

“But siphons are supposed to pull magic from the elements to feed to you. I cannot do that. I will weaken you if I join you on the battlefield.”

Ágota smirks. “No, you will not. Do you think my father knows how powerful I am? He does not. I only reveal what I want to. I can make do with three siphons.”

I stare at her with both frustration and apprehension devouring my usually calm demeanor. “Ágota, they want you to kill.”

“It was only a matter of time.” Ágota draws the comb through her hair, wincing as it catches the tangles in her thick, unruly tresses. “Mother warned me eventually I would have to take a life. She said to not deny the seriousness of the matter and to do what is right. That it is my obligation as Archwitch.”

I give her a doubtful look. “Is it right that you are being asked to kill because mortal men are fighting for power?”

“It is right because I must protect this coven. We own very little in this world. This castle is one of the few sanctuaries for our kind.” Ágota finishes and her hair is wilder and puffer than before with all the snarls removed. Pressing her hands to her waist, she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “I am the Archwitch. This is my duty.”

Killing came easily to me, but I can see it will not for her. It hurts to know that she will suffer in the aftermath of performing her so-called duty. I wish our mother had never died and that we still lived in our small cottage far away. Then Ágota would not face committing this terrible deed to defend people who do not truly value her.

“Do as I say, Erjy, and do not be afraid. I can perform my duty.”

When we join the coven in the great hall, there is a victorious gleam in the eyes of Soffia’s sycophants. They already anticipate Ágota’s failure, which strikes me as particularly foolhardy. If Ágota fails, will not it fall to them to defend the castle?

Standing among her supporters, Soffia appears uneasy. When Balázs’s wife notices me watching her, she narrows her eyes and regards me with contempt. My fingers flex about the hilt of my dagger. I will never forgive her for attempting to kill my sister and her desire to see Ágota fail only stokes the fires of hatred burning in my soul. I force myself to look away so as to not reveal my murderous desire to end her. It is best if people do not regard me as any sort of a threat.

Standing apart from the others, Henrietta gives me a reassuring smile. She, too, is dressed in her best black dress and wears a thick black fur cloak over it. I am surprised to see that she does not look a bit nervous but rather proud. I return her smile even though I worry about what will happen to her and Balázs since I cannot act as a true siphon. I trust Ágota, but magic is a wild element.

Balázs raises a hand to silence the chatter before summoning the witches into a circle. There are sixty witches in the coven and we swiftly stride to our places. I stand at Ágota’s left side while Balázs stands on her right. Henrietta hurries to her spot next to me while Soffia joins her husband. The great cauldron bubbles over the fire in the hearth warming my back.

“Rather exciting, is it not?” Henrietta whispers to me.

I arch my eyebrows. “Battle?”

“Witnessing the rise of the new Archwitch,” she corrects. “Others think she might fail, but I know Ágota will show them all. I feel it in my very bones.”

“She will not fail,” I say, dread shading my words. “Which is awful. She has to kill.”

“War is terrible, but our enemies are forcing our hand. We have to defend ourselves and Ágota is the most powerful weapon in this castle.”

“I still do not like it,” I reply truthfully.

A weak smile flits across Henrietta’s lips. “You will understand one day why we must fight.”

Shoulder to shoulder, the men and women of the coven focus on my sister.

“Join together,” Ágota says, leading the coven for the first time.

The witches cross their arms and hold hands with the person next to them.

“Close the circle.”