Leudora Galbur remembered the day when she had announced her uncle's abduction to the Archon, standing in her purple robes in the middle of the Fasma Sanctuary in Bucharest. Her hair was longer, and the glare of her metallic eyes held a different kind of fire – it was softer, warmer. But that ambition inside her had not changed.
"You wished to see me, Keeper?" Calimachi smiled at her with superficial politeness. She moved swiftly through the hall, only hearing the muffled sound of her robes wiping the floor. Calimachi's yellowish eyes followed her every step with a mixture of lust, disdain and something which she could not identify.
"My uncle, Svetozar Galbur, has been abducted by Domagoj Drašković and his associates," she said after a long pause. "If he doesn't return safely to Belgrade, my relatives will slaughter every gravity-switcher that crosses their path. If violence escalates, they will lose. You must understand the implications of their defeat, Your Grace."
"You do know that the Fasma has neither the right nor the power to interfere with politics, don't you?" Calimachi asked cautiously.
"I am aware of that, Your Grace. But if we don't interfere this time, there will be no Fasma." She lifted an eyebrow, crossing her arms on her chest. "What will happen to our legacy if our kin is exterminated? I am certain that you have asked yourself the same question."
The Archon did not answer. She groaned inwardly at his lecherous grin but did not let her features reflect her concern. She had to be calm. That was the only way to persuade him to agree to her plan.
"It is most naïve to expect the gravity-switchers to discern us from the rest of the Psychics. Our purple robes won't buy our lives," Leudora added after a pause. Calimachi only shook his head in response.
"You do not belong in this war, lady Galbur. You are a Keeper, not a diplomat or a soldier."
"I won't have much to keep if the war rages on." She interjected, her lips twisting. "When our warlords run out of enemies, they will fight history. Isn't it our duty to protect it?"
Calimachi's yellow eyes sparkled in the light reflected from the mirrors behind his back, and all that Leudora saw there was fear and confusion.
"Do you value knowledge, your Grace?" A provocative glare of her wild asphalt-colored eyes jolted him to a halt.
"I am the Archon! Why would you even ask this from me?"
"Because Fasma representatives negotiated peace centuries ago," she answered. "Our impartiality gives us certain privileges." She paused, collecting her thoughts. "Let me discuss the return of my uncle." Calimachi backed away, then turned towards a long row of shelves and motioned to the side.
"You are insane, Lady Galbur. More so than I have expected. Go kill yourself if you want. I won't participate in that."
"I only ask you not to interfere with my actions."
"Interfere?" he snorted, "What can I do to stop you?"
"Nothing."
"You will die."
"Death is an option. Victory is a necessity. I intend to win."
She did not hear Calimachi swear under his breath, but she was certain that he did.
Leudora's mother was less prone to negotiations. Adeona asked Lorei to throw Leudora out when she appeared on the doorstep of her house - one of Bucharest's Art Nouveau masterpieces lost in the labyrinths surrounding Armeneasca street. Leudora only glared at her sister, forcing Lorei to shrug her shoulders and roll her eyes. Leudora flung the door open and entered without asking for permission.
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...
