Danica Horanská synchronized her pace with Radmila Chlápková's energetic stride, making their way through the sunlit center of Bucharest. The University area with its eclectic mixture of architectural styles and bustling crowds sparkled beneath the Veil, but Danica was in no mood for sightseeing. She gritted her teeth and unblinkingly stared at the sun: if she endured a little longer, Chlápková would eventually talk and reveal her plans. Every second spent in her presence reminded Danica of those who had suffered from her actions. Danica had a good memory.
"Your wellbeing depends on your testimony, Danka," Radmila said.
"I get that," said Danica with a gloomy expression plastered on her face. "You promised to set Ariadna free." She paused, fearlessly meeting Radmila's colorless eyes. "You have made a deal with her father, haven't you?"
Radmila laughed, patting her on the back. Danica recoiled, suppressing a sudden desire to strangle the blond woman with the eyes of a dead fish.
"Why wouldn't I?" Radmila snarled. "I need Aladár to marry me to assure the support of the Hungarian time-masters."
"He will never support you if Ariadna dies."
Radmila ignored her remark.
"His daughter's fate is sealed: she will be condemned for her crimes. But I can ease her burden." A wicked twinkle appeared in her pale eyes. "I will be merciful and generous and implore the Council not to kill the girl. They will most certainly agree to spare her life. Aladár, the Vargas and all the rest will recognize my humble plea as a noble gesture worthy of admiration. After all, when was the last time that a light-bender took the side of a Byzantine Blood?"
"Never... I guess," Danica said. She knew well what Radmila had in mind. A cozy alliance with time-masters could certainly justify the Spy Guild's transformation into a band of armed highway killers. She bit her tongue not to spit at Chlápková.
"This sad incident will have interesting consequences," Radmila squinted at the sun and sneered. "It will prove the inability of our leadership to face the challenges ahead, and the Alka Guard's failure to protect the Guild."
Danica studied Chlápková's face, wondering if the would-be-leader knew what she was dragging her light-bending fellows into.
Danica took her place in the courtroom beside Radmila Chlápková and her goons. She pretended to take a vivid interest in her surroundings to chase away her frustration. A splendid hall of marble, glass and webs of light was no more than an illusion, polluted by seemingly important individuals, who, by the looks of them, thought they were the only reason the Veil existed. Danica despised each and every one of those well-bred idiots, but she could do nothing about them. They were to judge Ariadna. She was nothing.
Two grim Alkari led Ariadna Lascari into the courtroom, leaving her surrounded by an indifferent audience of lavishly dressed high-born Offcasts. To Danica, Ariadna looked exhausted, her frizzy hair with black strands reminding her of melting icicles. The five Councilors occupied their seats in front of their prisoner, towering over the spectators like nobles over filthy peasants. With mild curiosity, Danica watched the Alkari secure the perimeter, pretending to instill law and order. They carried themselves with poise and dignity, clad in their uniforms of burgundy and black with scimitars hanging from their belts. But all that glitter was nebulous and superficial like a tacky postcard presented as a unique masterpiece. The trial was a masquerade.
Among the people present, Danica hardly recognized anyone at all. Lorei Lascari's surprisingly relaxed face stood out: Danica had seen her light projections and portraits drawn by Ariadna. Lorei leaned to the side, talking to a woman who was a remarkable beauty, making all the spectators appear drab and dull in comparison. That tall black-haired lady with a long fringe and droopy eyes could only be Arta Rinari. Avoiding the gaze of the Spy Mistress, Danica shifted her stare to Aladár Kolosy, who pushed his way through the crowd. Was he the only man who did not try to mask his terror?
YOU ARE READING
Byzantine Purple
Fantasy"History is a survivor's tale. It knows no villains. Only failures." A decade ago, Leudora had her major enemies eliminated - the scientist known as the Dalmatian Serpent, and his followers, who sought her people's blood. A ruthless guardian of her...
