The Azure Rider Ch 06

Agatha endured the subsequent weeks with a degree of forbearance and fortitude that she had not known herself to possess. Her betrothal ceremony with Fredenand turned out to be a turbulent, tense affair, with the Prince glowering at King Olbrecht and his sister, Princess Sira for the major part of the ceremony. He refused to dance with Agatha during the evening celebrations, and though Agatha couldn't care less for losing the affections of her future husband, she was pleasantly surprised when Princess Sira accosted her and led her out into the dance floor. Princess Sira was fair haired and tall, with muscular, brown limbs that testified to long hours spent in the southern sun, and Agatha took an immediate liking to her cheerful, outgoing temperament.

Georgina informed her later that Prince Fredenand had been severely castigated by his father and sister for beating his future bride, and Agatha heaved a sigh of relief when he did not visit her chambers on the night of the betrothal ceremony.

Agatha found herself in Princess Sira's company increasingly often for the next few weeks. Sira ushered her out of her wing every morning and forced her to accompany her in her horse riding lessons. Agatha was only too happy to comply with the Princess's wishes as it gave her an opportunity to resume an outdoor activity she had come to love, and also because her time with Sira provided a welcome respite from Georgina's hawk-like watchfulness. As the days wore on Agatha began to realize that Sira Olbrecht did not possess a shred of the vanity and cruelty that defined her elder brother; instead she was a composed, restrained and shrewd woman, who had inherited most of her father's pragmatism and political acuity but none of his inflated sense of self. Their hours out in the southern sun left Agatha's freckles more pronounced than ever and the pallor in her cheeks was all but gone by the end of a week. In another week, Agatha's mark was nearly half complete, and by then Prince Fredenand decided to pay his betrothed another visit.

Agatha had allowed Georgina to tutor her in the meantime, and she displayed an uncharacteristic degree of equanimity when her handmaids rushed into her chamber to prepare her for her husband to be. She had already determined that she would keep her magic under restraint around Fredenand, no matter what torture he inflicted upon her, and her hours of isolation in her wing were often spent reflecting and plotting about the most prudent way to dispose off the Prince without drawing suspicion to herself. This change in her temperament, from vehemently excitable to restrained and calculative, surprised Agatha more than anything, and she begrudgingly attributed this to Orion's influence. With this change came the welcome respite of absolute control over her magic, and thus, when Agatha relaxed into her tepid bathwater that evening, she was calmly assured of enduring the subsequent hours without permanent damage to her person or reputation.

When Prince Fredenand entered her bedchamber, Agatha offered him a tentative smile and held out a sealed crystal of a murky brew. At Prince Fredenand's inquisitive glance, she said, "I have heard that your Highness likes to hunt. This is a potion intended to keep your kill fresh while it's transported back into the castle. All you have to do is dip your arrow into it before shooting at your prey."

Intrigued, Fredenand dropped his whip and approached her, collecting the crystal from her hand. Agatha had prepared it the day before; Georgina had supplied her with the necessary ingredients and equipment. It was a simple potion, one that did not require magic, but extremely effective. Agatha was relieved when Fredenand decided to slip the bottle into the pocket of his trousers instead of throwing it away.

He beckoned her closer with his index fingers and unbuckled his belt, lowering them to expose his semi-erect shaft.

"Suck," he ordered, seizing a handful of her hair and forcing her down to her knees. Agatha obeyed dutifully, having prepared for this eventuality for the past week under her handmaid's tutelage. She took the slightly shriveled shaft in her mouth and sucked diligently, using her lips and tongue just like she had been instructed to. Prince Fredenand, however, soon decided that he wanted more control over his pleasure, and seizing the back of her head, started thrusting into her mouth until his erection hit the back of her throat. Fortunately he was neither well endowed nor lasted long, and by the time Agatha's eyes began to water he released himself, emptying his hot seed at the back of her throat. Agatha swallowed, her inscrutable face never betraying her revulsion. Fredenand pulled back his trousers and left. Agatha sank into the cold stone floor, the chill seeping deep into her bones through the shimmery chiffon robe on her person, renewing her determination to kill him slowly and painfully when opportunity presented itself.

The next day, Princess Sira asked her whether Fredenand was treating her ill. Agatha, surprised and touched by this thoughtful enquiry, shrugged noncommittally, determined never to seek Princess Sira's pity.

"My brother does not deserve you," Princess Sira said moodily, plucking at the grass in front of her. By an unspoken agreement, they had fallen into a habit of riding through the forest behind the Castle Keep and resting for an hour by a little known lake deep inside it. The woods smelled different here in the south in Agatha's opinion, the creepers that snaked up the tree trunks were splendidly variegated and covered in colourful inflorescence, their sweet perfume hanging heavy in the humid air. Despite the time of the year, orchids bloomed in profusion and the dense undergrowth sent off tall stalks of velvet spathes. It was a far cry from the dead ivy and the leafless, grey woods of Lohenstraad and Agatha, despite her otherwise trapped predicament, had learnt to look forward to her time in the forest.

Until Princess Sira had decided to start asking deeply personal questions, that is.

"My brother doesn't deserve you, just as he did not deserve Elia," she continued bitterly.

"Was Elia his last wife?" Agatha enquired cautiously.

"Yes. She was my friend. She would have turned twenty four today, had she been alive."

"How was she?" Agatha asked.

"She was beautiful. Sweet, frail. Would not hurt a fly. Took whatever he gave her without breathing a word to anyone. By the time I intervened, it was too late. She was too far gone." Princess Sira's face twisted in grief, and Agatha was startled to see tears in her eyes.

"You loved her," Agatha said softly. This conjecture lined up with Sira's strong inclination for remaining unwed despite no dearth of suitors.

Sira blinked furiously.

"You'll survive," Sira continued, her avoidance of the subject of her affections only conspiring to strengthen Agatha's presumption. "You're not like her. I've seen the rest of the Dragon Riders in our council. They don't have a weak bone in their body. The Dragons choose the fiercest ones as their Riders."

"A woman's strength is not determined by her ability to endure prolonged torture," Agatha said softly. "I would say that Elia was brave enough to do something I can never do."

"I would not call it bravery, Esmeralda. She left us without a thought for how her death would affect the ones who loved her. She should have told me what was happening instead of covering up the bruises with layers of clothing. I could have protected her."

They sat in companionable silence for a while, each immersed in their own thoughts. Then Agatha's curiosity peaked again.

"You seem very... different from your brother," she said cautiously.

Sira chuckled mirthlessly.

"If you had called us similar I would have considered it a great personal insult."

Agatha waited silently, recognizing Sira's cathartic mood and only too happy to lend an ear to her sorrows. Sure enough, Sira continued to speak after a short pause.

"Fredenand wasn't always like this. Our father married our mother shortly after he ascended the throne of Vandan. My mother gave birth to Fredenand and me in quick succession in the following years, and after that, my father's interest in her began to dwindle. He would spend most of his nights in the Harem, seeking out women with dark hair and blue eyes, like your mother, and rumours were abound that he liked to call them Estrilda. My mother was a strong, opinionated woman, and she objected to this. Suffice to say, my father discovered a new mode of entertainment to fill his evenings. My mother's handmaids told me later that her cries would reach outside the Queen Consort's wing. Fredenand was old enough to understand what was happening, but not old enough to understand that it was wrong. I suppose Father's actions imprinted on his easily malleable, young mind, and he grew up believing that it was customary to treat one's wife like that."

"But ... I heard that King Andebert reprimanded him for whipping me!"

Sira laughed again.

"Don't let his gentle nature fool you, Esmeralda. You remind him of the woman he loved, if a man like him can be considered capable of loving... no, let me rephrase. You remind him of the woman he fixated over for the majority of his youth, so of course he would seek to treat you well. If he were any younger, you would have been married to him, Esmeralda, and not my brother."

Agatha stretched herself on the bed of grass and stared at the green canopy overhead, her thoughts turbulent and her outlook conflicted.

"Tell me more about your mother," she said.

Sira lay down beside her, their heads touching imperceptibly. "She did not live long," Sira said mournfully. "When I was five, she died from an undiagnosed illness. I don't have too many memories of her, just whatever the handmaids told me. They said that she loved to sew. I have this beautiful quilt in my bedchamber that was sewn by her. People say I take after her, but of course she was not as brown as I am."

"I think you look beautiful," Agatha said.

Sira was quiet for a while. Then she said, "you know, I have been riding with you for two weeks now and you have hardly said anything about yourself."

Agatha laughed, then plucked a wildflower out of the grass beside her and twisted the stalk around her index finger. "I don't have much to say. I never knew my parents." To divert Sira's attention, she proceeded to a different line of questioning.

"Where did King Olbrecht secure the manacles that bind Elpis? I have been told by my handmaids that he tried to open them afterwards but could not?"

Sira groaned. "My father is a blubbering fool, Esmeralda. I don't know how he laid his hands upon that kind of magic, but he should have never confined the Thistle Dragon. Had the Azure Rider not handed you over, you would have died a natural death, and your Dragon would have died with you. And then, the Imperial Dragons' Council would have turned against us and laid waste to Regstone in their Wrath. The Azure Rider saved our lives in that way, I suppose. My father tried to unchain Elpis some years ago to escape this inevitability when our informers failed to bring news of you. Then, when he realized he wouldn't be able to open the chains, he started recruiting vampires into the Army. Now, I think my father is a proper imbecile. Vampires are a huge liability to the state owing to their feeding habits, and they cannot stand against Dragon Riders. If he wanted to prepare for an eventuality where the Dragons turn against us, he should have decriminalized possession of magic and started recruiting witches and wizards."

"Because the ones who can possess magic are the only beings who can kill Dragon Riders?" Agatha asked softly, feigning ignorance.

"Precisely. It would have been like creating an Army of ... what was his name again?"

"Malthus Vuldrethe?"

"Yes. It would have been like creating an Army of Mathus Vuldrethes, except, that is not a stable recourse either, because humans who can possess magic often turn towards the darker side, which is why we burn so many of them every year in the first place. So all things considered, it would have been prudent to allow Elpis to fly away and find his Rider."

"Her Rider," Agatha corrected Sira.

"Yes, her Rider. So that is why we are now burdened with an ever burgeoning vampire population and no sustainable way to feed them. I tried to propose signing a Treaty with the vampires, like Lohenstraad has, in the ministerial council a few moons ago, but of course no one wants to listen to the presumably airheaded, vapid, privileged princess who knows nothing about politics and governance, thanks to an unaccountable bias against her sex in general. Now, when Fredenand suggested that we open up feeding houses, this suggestion was lapped up by those very men. It makes me so angry, Esmeralda."

Agatha smiled a little at Princess Sira's justifiable indignance.

"For what it's worth, I believe you would be a much better ruler than Fredenand," she offered.

"That will never happen," Princess Sira snorted.

"Now that there's no imminent danger to Elpis's life, how does the Dragon Council feel about keeping her restrained?" Agatha enquired.

"They are still not happy, especially as my father has abandoned all attempts to free Elpis now that he has secured you. He knows that keeping Elpis confined ensures your confinement, because Dragon Riders cannot bear to be separated from their Dragons once the bond is formed."

Agatha sighed inconspicuously and followed the path of a blue and black butterfly through the undergrowth, trying to ignore the familiar sinking sensation in her chest. When Fredenand visited her that evening Agatha discovered that he had left his whip behind. He still unbuckled his belt and ordered Agatha to pleasure him with her mouth, but this time, he eased the pressure at the back of her head and allowed her a few moments' worth of respite whenever she gasped and spluttered for breath.

Agatha found herself thinking about Siegel often, especially during the hour she was allowed to spend with Elpis. Elpis was curious about her past life in Lohenstraad, and since a better part of that life had been spent in Siegel's company, Agatha permitted herself to recall the memories of her old lover and her closest confidant.

Agatha had met Siegel in the Academy when she was eleven years old. He had been thirteen at the time. Her magic had been blossoming at the time alongside her youth, and Siegel had walked in on her in a deserted classroom, catching her levitating a book in thin air. Agatha had been surprised by his sudden entrance and her lapse in concentration had resulted in the thick, hard bound volume crashing down upon a wooden desk. Siegel had closed the door of the classroom behind him and the two had considered each other in stunned silence for a few moments. Then Siegel had asked her if anyone else knew that she was a witch.

"I don't understand you," Agatha had answered, confused by the consternation in his brown eyes. "Isn't everyone here learning to be a witch?"

Siegel had explained to her, over the next few days, about the differences between mages and witches, how humans who could possess magic were far more powerful than ordinary mages, how, unlike mages, they could kill another human or even a Dragon Rider with their magic, and how they often lost control of their magic and went over to the dark side. He had followed with the example of a dark wizard called Malthus Vuldrethe, who had killed all the Azure Riders in Lohenstraad a thousand years ago, engendering a stream of natural calamities that left hundreds of thousands dead in the subsequent years. Possessing magic had been a crime punishable by death in Lohenstraad and Vandan since then.

"But it is not my fault that I can possess magic," Agatha had protested, "and I have no wish to kill anyone, least of all a Dragon Rider."

"I don't think you will be able to convince a guard to release you using that rationale if you get caught," Siegel had smiled, and had proceeded to tutor her on how to control her magic, the intricacies of spells cast by mages and witches, their differences, and how to masquerade as a mage amongst others. Agatha had learnt soon that Siegel was a wizard too, albeit a more powerful one than her, and he could cast a piece of magic that he called "the Haze" and it shielded his magic from the eyes of non magical humans. Agatha had learnt that any human could learn to be a mage, for their activities were confined to harvesting the magic around them into inanimate objects like wards and brews, but a witch's magic was different; it was a steady surge of energy that pulsed through her in rhythm with the magic around her, threatening to break free from her every moment. Mages were made, witches were born.

A year later, Siegel had walked in on Agatha in the same classroom, but this time she was sobbing silently instead of practicing magic. By then, the two had become nearly inseparable friends. He cajoled and coaxed her for an hour before she revealed to him that the Head Mage, Walter Abelardo had seen her working in the kitchen and had dragged her to his bedchamber the night before and had done unspeakable things to her. What was more, he had asked her to come back to him every night. When she had refused, he had threatened to turn her out into the streets.

"Did you use magic?" was the first question Siegel had asked.

When Agatha had shaken her head, Siegel had suggested that she could kill him. Ignoring her horrified reaction, he had told her about a little known, deadly herb called nightshade, which could be made into a fruity brew and disguised in the form of a drink.

"You can start drinking it in small amounts from now on to build up tolerance. Be civil to him so that he does not suspect anything, offer him the drink when you have built up a sufficient level of tolerance, and drink it with him, so that he does not suspect you of any foul play. Walter Abelardo is not very young, neither in robust health, and the effects of nightshade can be mistakenly accounted for as a seizure or a sudden heart failure."

And thus, Siegel had guided her through the ordeal with an unyielding consistency that Agatha had never known. There were a few times when Agatha tried to retreat from the conspiracy, but Walter's increasingly intolerable whims and Siegel's careful persuasion had propelled her to return to the plan every time. When Agatha had stood by Walter's bed a month later, watching the light leave the man's eyes, she had felt exhilarated beyond measure, all of her misgivings dissipating into thin air. That was when she had determined never to allow anyone to violate her against her will and walk away unscathed. Siegel had convinced his father to enroll Agatha in the Academy after that, and after a few years, had asked if he could kiss her.

'Did you love him?' Elpis asked after Agatha finished barrelling through twelve years worth of memories.

Agatha did not have a ready answer to that. Yes, she had cared for Siegel, but after being with Orion she had grown to realize that she might have mistaken a case of sisterly affection for something else. Agatha redirected her unruly thoughts and focused on sharpening the ivory hairpin that she held in her hand, by rubbing it against the stone ground underneath them. Elpis unfurled one of her wings partway and wrapped it gently around her.

'If you cut his throat with that, you will draw suspicion to yourself, little one,' her voice was gentle inside Agatha's mind.

'Only if they find the pin afterwards,' Agatha thought stubbornly.

Georgina discovered the pin in her hair soon afterwards. In retrospect, Agatha blamed herself for asking too many pointed questions about heirship laws of the Vandan Kingdom and raising her suspicion. She had confronted Georgina openly about her ties to the Sacred Hand a few days ago, and to her surprise, her handmaid had acknowledged that the Sacred Hand had recruited her shortly after she had started serving as a handmaid to Queen Consort Estrilda. Agatha, emboldened by her candor, had started asking questions the next time Georgina entered her bedchamber to prepare her for breakfast with the royal family. Georgina had explained, quite willingly, that if Prince Fredenand died after producing a male heir, Princess Esmeralda would reign as the Queen Regent until her son came of age. However, if Prince Fredenand died without an heir, she would be relegated to the position of Queen Dowager while Princess Sira would ascend the throne of Vandan as Queen Regnant, assuming equal powers to a male monarch. Then, Georgina had volunteered gratuitously, that Queen Regents had been known to overrule heirship laws and rule till the end of their lives by promoting themselves to the position of Queen Regnants.