Freed from Mother, memories remained:

She'd touched Tarvek's dense hair, teased. His breath caught as he leaned to kiss and confess love.

His sick tones of betrayed faith. A sharp slap on the table.

Her hot, delighted power. Not Mother's possession alone, Agatha in turn possessed: Tarvek was hers to hurt.

She remembered fear, shame - the ache of being forgiven. Self-possessed, she'd leaned on him; buried her face, breathed comfort. He was hers to trust.

Tarvek and Gil: they hers, she theirs. Now, free yet bound, she wondered: which was the more difficult taskmaster: to possess, or be possessed?