green. Sapphire blue, violet amethyst, then back to red to start the rainbow again. Even though the other enchanter had painted Nevsky Prospect first, Vika’s colors were so vivid, it was as if his palette of pastels were merely a faded reflection of hers. The canals were a jewel-toned taunt, really, at his move. Vika finished charming the waterways enough to cycle through the colors on their own, then sank to the ground. The base of Peter the Great’s statue was the only thing propping her up. But despite her exhaustion, Vika grinned. The gleam in her eyes was one part gloat and ninety-nine
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