Chapter Twenty-Nine

On her knees, Agata unwrapped one arm from around her torso to feed more wood to the fire. The only sound in her cold silent world was the staccato crack of wood being consumed. Despite wearing two dresses and having her cloak pinned around her, she struggled to stay warm. Ever since she’d lost Heida, she struggled to stay warm. She touched her fingers to her cheeks; they felt warm, but inside she remained cold.

The dancing flames whispered memories of the celebration to herald the new year. Every year, on the last night of the old year, no matter the weather, everyone – young and old, rich and poor – would gather around the huge fire built outside the city, and dance, sing and make merry to greet the new year, full of hope for what it might bring.

This time, for the first time, there was no dancing, no singing. No fire. The city shivered in winter’s numbing embrace. None ventured out unless they had to, as if fearful they might see Gadreena herself.

Agata uncurled her posture, drawing out her other hand in which she held Una’s egg-shaped stone. She’d been secretly practicing in the months since Heida’s death, trying to remember all that her nurse had taught her. All she had left was her faith in her goddess.

“I have decided, Heida.”  Hating the quiet of her chamber, she’d taken to whispering to the old woman as if she was still with her. “Instead of challenging Marlis, I will try and free Uncle. I’m going to try and remove that cursed band from him. The uncle who cares for me is there, deep inside. Sometimes, he’s almost kind to me, like before.”

Holding the stone against her body, she pushed herself to her feet and carefully put the stone in a small cloth bag. With slow, deliberate movements, she unpinned her cloak and folded it, draping it neatly on her bed. Then she slung the bag, which matched the olive green of her dress, across her body.

Squaring her shoulders, Agata left her room and made her way to the chief’s hall. Slipping in through the side door, she crept a little way to stand in the shadows, almost behind the chief’s seat.

The scorching flames in the great hearth seemed unable to dispel the frigid atmosphere in the hall. The only ones present, apart from Hagen and Marlis, were his advisors, Sweyn, and a few servant women.

Even though Agata had come in halfway through a discussion, she knew what it was about.

“No arguments?” said Hagen.

The handful of men standing on the same side as her remained silent. Sweyn, his expression glacial, had his arms wrapped tight around his chest.

Marlis, sat on Hagen’s other side, chuckled as she languidly rocked her staff back and forth.

“It is decided. We go to Edmund and he can either willingly agree for me to take Arthur or I take him by force. You can prepare my chosen men for a long march, and you can then prepare for a wedding.”

Agata’s heart tightened as did the knot in her stomach. She glanced at the old servant woman who was watching her with tear-filled eyes and blinked rapidly to stop her own tears. Swallowing hard, she pressed her back to the wall, trapping her hand against the rough wood. She picked at the knotty surface with her fingernail as she waited for Marlis to, hopefully, leave the hall.

To Agata’s surprise, she didn’t have to wait long. Marlis got to her feet, leaned over Hagen to kiss him full on the lips – Agata shut her eyes – then walked out. Taking a deep breath, one hand on her chest, Agata hesitantly made her way to Hagen’s side. She glanced at Sweyn whose frown deepened. He took a step towards her but stopped when she shook her head.

“Uncle.” Her voice trembling, she moved her hand down to rest on her bag, against the reassuring shape of the stone. “May I speak, Uncle?” This time, her voice was stronger.

Hagen slowly turned to her, drawing his brows together. His once-bright eyes were now dull, almost lifeless.

Agata quickly knelt by him, her hands on the arm of his seat. This was the closest she’d been to him in a long while. “Uncle, it’s me, Agata. Remember little Aggie, who did nothing but cry when I first came here. You would sit by my bed and tell me stories of the wind and snow, of the birds that brought the sun. You would tell me stories every night, even after I stopped crying.”

His gaze softened.

“Little Aggie, who sat on your knee and fed you bread and honey in the summer; who made you a crown of flowers and–”

“And stuck flowers in my beard,” he said softly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Yes.” She smiled at him. “You remember.” Glancing down at his arm, resting close to her hands, she gently placed her hand on his arm, close to the band. Her breath caught; his skin felt so cold.

“Little Aggie. It seems so long ago, it’s hard to remember. I find so many things hard to remember.”

“Oh, Uncle.” Swallowing hard, refusing to give in to her tears, she took hold of his chilled but still sturdy hand in both of hers and pressed it to her cheek. “Let me help you remember.”

A frown creased her brow as she started to unpick the cords holding the band together. The sound of her pounding heart thundered in her ears, punctuated with her breathing. It felt as if the hall was holding its breath as she sought to free Hagen.

“Get away from him.”

Agata jerked away at Marlis’ shout but stayed by Hagen’s side. Ignoring the black-clad woman striding up to her, Agata tried to pull the band off.

Sweyn’s warning shout made Agata look up to see Marlis pointing the staff at her. She felt a stinging pain against her body. Marlis screamed and stumbled to the floor, her eyes bulging, her mouth open. It took Agata a moment to realise that Marlis’ attack had bounced off her to hit Marlis instead. Putting her hand against the bag, she could feel the stone radiating warmth and knew it was protecting her.

With renewed courage, she leapt to her feet and ran to Marlis, trying to wrest the staff from her. Pain stabbed through her hands, shooting up her arms. Light burst behind her eyelids, dizzying her, but she refused to let go, groaning through clenched teeth.

Her eyes wide, overly bright, Marlis fought to keep hold of her staff, gripping it so tight, the colour drained from her fingers. “Let it go, let. Go.” The words came out in gasps.

Agata could feel the growing warmth of the stone through the bag and her double layer of dresses. She started to believe she could overcome Marlis.

“Hagen.” Marlis’ voice trembled. “Hagen, make her stop. She’s hurting me.”

Her back to her uncle, Agata couldn’t see his reaction. But she heard Sweyn calling her uncle, could hear Sweyn’s voice getting close. Then she felt rough hands on her shoulders, pulling her away. She staggered back. Breathing heavily, muscles quivering, she glared at Hagen.

Legs planted wide, he fixed her with an icy stare.

Agata could no longer keep silent. “She’s controlling you. With that thing.” She jabbed a finger at the band on his wrist.

“Lies,” said Marlis.

Agata turned her fury on her. “Murderess. You killed Heida. And Otho. I know you did. Like you killed that poor woman–”

“Shut your mouth.” Hagen’s shout cut through her loud words.

A backhanded blow struck her across the face, knocking her off her feet. She fell, sprawling.

“Hagen!”

Dazed, a strange ringing in her ear, she could barely hear Sweyn’s voice. Agata fought to catch her breath, the hot taste of blood in her mouth. Aware that something was close to her, she tried to focus. Sound gradually built around her.

“Oh, child, my lady.”

Squinting, she realised it was the old servant woman.

“She’s under your protection,” said Sweyn.

“This is the best way, my love,” said Marlis. “You trust me, yes?”

“Hagen, be reasonable. I have been your friend for longer than–”

“Do not ask me to choose between you,” said Hagen, his voice low.

Agata started to push herself up with the help of the woman helped her. “Oh. Oh no.” The bag lay flat against her. The stone was not there. She looked around, her hands fluttering against the cold floor.

“Child, child, hush,” whispered the old woman. From where she was kneeling on the floor, her back to Marlis, she lifted her skirt slightly to reveal the stone hiding underneath.

The stone had obviously rolled out of her bag when she’d fallen. Agata realised then why the woman had risked going to her. Tears pricked her eyes and she reached out to take it.

“Bring her,” said Hagen.

“My lord–”

“Shall I make you?” said Marlis.

Sweyn came to Agata’s side. “Forgive me, child.” He helped her to her feet.

She held the gaze of the woman who squeezed her hand and gave a brief nod. Agata prayed she would keep the stone safe and bring it to her when she could. She staggered, feeling light-headed. “What is happening?”

Sweyn held her steady, blocking her from Hagen and Marlis. “Brave child, goddess keep you,” he whispered. “You’ve shown us it’s possible. We won’t fail you, we won’t fail him.”

Frowning, she wondered what he meant. “What’s happening?” she asked again.

“Be silent, insolent child.” Marlis was too close for Sweyn to say anymore.

Then Hagen was pulling her away, half-dragging her through the side door.

Realising they were taking her to her chamber, she prayed the wards would be enough to stop Marlis. But she also knew the stone was not there to anchor the wards. Hagen pushed open the door. Hope flared in Agata as a hiss of discomfort escaped Marlis who hesitated before stepping in. Just as quickly, hope died as the woman, face clenched in obvious pain, forced herself in.

Brandishing the skull end of her staff at the corners of the room, Marlis made her way around with strained steps, stabbing the floor with the sharp end of her staff.

Agata couldn’t stop her tears as she felt the protection breaking down, turning her calming sanctuary into a frosty cage. “No, no.”

“Stop snivelling.” Walking in a more deliberate way, almost strutting, Marlis smirked. “Get to your bed.”

Feeling her chest tighten, she frowned, her gaze going from Marlis to Hagen. “What?”

“Unless you’d prefer to sleep on the floor?”

“I don’t understand.”

“You have caused your uncle enough trouble and hurt–”

“Me? You’re the one–”

Hagen pulled her back. “You’ve brought this on yourself. I told you I wouldn’t stand for any defiance, especially against my beloved Marlis.”

Agata’s fear of losing her uncle jostled with her anger. “You’re going to shut me in here because–”

“You have shown that merely being shut away will not be enough.” Undoing the spindle from her belt, Marlis stroked the sharp end. “I am going to put you to sleep until Arthur is here for your marriage.”

Agata’s eyes stretched wide. “Sleep? But–”

“Enough talk.” Dragging her to her bed, Hagen shoved her on it.

“You would allow her to do this?” She reached out to take his hand, but Marlis stepped between them.

Slowly, her body sagged as she realised she was powerless to stop this woman. Then she remembered Sweyn’s words and she clung to that small hope. Lifting her chin, she stared into Marlis’ frigid brown eyes. “You will not win.”