Minerva flicked her wrist, signaling for her guards to fall into step behind her. Following the Terron raid, she'd asked Matsudo to handpick security, not only for her Trial, but all-around the clock.

Kaolin strode ahead with a toss of her head. She hadn't appreciated needing to redo a full face of makeup.

Not for the first time, Minerva pondered how her plans for vengeance on the Phoenix Kin could be carried out if she absconded to her military post after the Heir's tournament. Leaving the city in her mother's hands also invited usurpation of authority and the throne. But staying in the black-hearted vipress' nest could prove even more deadly.

As always, her line of thought always returned to a singular goal.

Survive. No matter the obstacles. No matter the cost.

She'd walked through the Trial's furnace. Now there would only be the tournament and she'd be out of reach. If it came to it, she could fight a war of armies. The war she sensed brewing in the shadows was what worried her.

Minerva stalled at the staircase leading to the lower floors of the palace and motioned two of her bodyguard forward. The stairs were a chokepoint and a prime location to assassinate a target. She would know.

The kirukkan walls shone white, reflecting a blurry image of herself. The guards returned. As she descended, she kept her eyes on the curve of the wall—if anyone approached, she would see.

Paranoia. Her past had marked her. The reason she'd never kept a bodyguard before was because of the limitations they imposed on her movements and the opportunity they presented for betrayal. Even while she focused on what could be waiting ahead of her, her senses strained to detect any inconsistency behind. She could not take much of this, she knew—her nerves already frayed like delicate threads.

Kaolin rejoined them at the stairs landing and led the way to the stables. "Mala has been groomed and the master of tokas cared for her paw. He admitted he's not sure how effective his remedies will be though, since they're not regularly used on manticores."

Minerva nodded, noting how easily her maidservant navigated the palace's vast layout.

When they entered the stables, Minerva sneezed from the floating specks of dust and hay. Black tokas snorted and pawed at the earth in their stalls. Further down the row, she spied Taras and Kodak guiding their white mounts out.

"Kaolin?"

Her maidservant followed her gaze. "I didn't see them here earlier."

Within her sleeves, Minerva's hands twitched. "Will my parents be in the procession?"

Kaolin shook her head. "They will not."

In other words, she would have the public support of the Hydro King, but not the Pyro Emperor and Empress. "This is a disaster."

The faint clicking of hooves preceded Taras' voice. "The sun shines, Your Highness."

Minerva slipped at the familiar greeting, but recovered. "The sun shines, Your Majesty."

It took effort to meet his eyes. They were no less icy, but at odds with the deep warmth of his voice. His height topped Kodak by a hand's length, his head almost at the same level of his toka's.

The Hydro prince seemed subdued in his father's presence. Minerva couldn't blame him—Taras was an intimidating figure and she knew how it felt to be eclipsed by a greater and more established power. When their eyes met, Minerva raised an eyebrow at him.

As if all their past meetings had been erased from time, he released his toka's reigns. He drew nearer and Minerva's guards tensed behind her.

Worry etched itself on his forehead, but it didn't belong. His face seemed such a stranger to it. Then Minerva noticed the hair near his forehead was slicked with sweat, though it was chilly and he wore only a thin white shirt tucked into black pants.

Kodak held out his hand. "The sun shines, Your Highness."

So, this "first" meeting was to be a revised play of the ones that came before it. Minerva took his hand and shook it, as she always did with Brenna. "The sun shines, Prince Kodak," she answered formally.

Kodak bowed over her hand, and then kissed her knuckles.

It took effort not to shrink away when his eyes paled by several shades and mist appeared around them.

She didn't think about doing it—after so long it had become second nature. Minerva tapped into the hollow place.

Kodak's eyes widened. In a matter of seconds, he'd pulled her close enough to whisper in her ear. No one around them seemed to notice.

"Be careful. Please."

Minerva pushed him away, trying to ignore the warmth of his hand leaving her waist, brushing lightly over her wound.

The Hydro Prince swept his fingers over his eyes and the fog dissipated. He looked more than worried now. With the tensing of his jaw and the slight hunch of his shoulders, Kodak appeared to be ... in pain.

Taras cleared his throat, causing Minerva to direct her attention to him. "If Her Highness has no objection, a select few members of our party wish to accompany her."

"Ah, of course—" Minerva's speech faltered when Kodak coughed violently into a handkerchief, his other hand gripping his mount's reigns.

"Apologies." Taras chuckled. "I'm afraid the climate doesn't agree with him."

Minerva gave a strained smile along with a terse nod of her head. "Our procession will be leaving soon. You are more than welcome to join us."

Without thinking, she raised her hand and signed the command for her troops to mount. Half her guard scattered to secure tokas, while the rest accompanied her to Mala.

Minerva beckoned to Kaolin. "What do you think that was all about?" she said quietly.

Kaolin shook her head, hands gliding along her waist and across her leather breastplate to check that each dagger was in its proper place. "I'm not sure. His son has appeared to be ill since their arrival here, but not ... consistently. Did he say anything to you?"

After ensuring that her vambraces were snug beneath her sleeves, Minerva boosted herself up onto Mala's back and arranged the panels of her riding skirt. "He doesn't seem to say much that is useful," she remarked to Kaolin.

That warning ... Could it have been about his own father?

Her maidservant did not appear comforted. A guardswoman brought her a toka and Kaolin's hands took to fiddling with the beast's saddle, though a stable hand would have already cinched it down properly. "I'm concerned about this procession. It would be all too easy to shoot you from a rooftop."

Minerva inclined her head when Pyra handed her a tachi—a blade designed for use when riding. Not just any tachi either. The deep violet sword bore Korlana's signature on the tang. Minerva hefted the kirukkan weapon, deeming it surprisingly light before fastening it to her belt.

To her side, Kaolin clambered up onto her toka with the help of a block and was handed a bow.

"Do you know how to shoot that thing?" Minerva asked in amusement.

"I could shoot that smirk right off your face." Kaolin drew the bowstring back to her cheek with ease and sighted before carefully lessening the tension without releasing. She patted the quiver of black arrows slung onto her saddle. "This makes me feel better about our chances of survival."

"You think we're going to get killed?" Minerva laughed. "It's only a short circuit around the city with the torch before we arrive at the Pyrogon."

"No, I think we could be mobbed and then killed," Kaolin said as she nocked an arrow.

Somehow, Minerva's state of inner calm had returned. She'd prepared as much as she could—had rested enough that dipping her finger into the hollow place was a viable strategy. It would give her first warning should danger rear its ugly head. "It can't be any worse than the—" Inari-Nakiryu job. She tapped her finger against her lip.

Kaolin heard the unspoken words and sniffed. "I still think we cheated death on that one."

"If we cheated death once, we can do it twice." With all of her guard armed to the teeth and riding tokas behind her as well as the lightweight burden of armor sitting her shoulders, Minerva felt like a general leading an army into battle. "Feels like I'm going to war again."

"Let's hope not. I hate how exposed your head is."

"You mean you don't want everyone to see the masterpiece you made of my face?"

At Pyra's nod of affirmation that the guard stood ready, Minerva motioned them forward. They locked into diamond formation around her. Mala's fuzzy ears twitched and the coiled muscles of her back and shoulders rippled as she kept pace with the tokas.

"The route is blocked out?" Minerva asked Kaolin amidst the clatter of shod hooves on cobblestones.

"Affirmative. A squad is sweeping the path ahead of us as we speak and I called in some old favors. All the favorite killing nests have an anti-assassin in them."

Yet again, Kaolin had proven her worth. Those favors wouldn't have come cheap—the anti-assassins especially. Paying one to prevent a possible strike could be almost as expensive as ordering them on one.

"Thank you," Minerva said.

Kaolin waved a hand as if to brush the gratitude aside. "We have more company joining us."

Minerva kept her eyes on the road ahead. Her procession had circled around from the back of the palace and reached the main gates at the front. "Who is it?"

"Former General Kavighn, Prulava and her family, Zenten," —Kaolin chuckled— "Nakiryu." She continued the list of names.

Minerva nodded along to each addition. Most of the noble families had sent only a representative or scions from goldenblood lines that had decreased in status over the decades. "Is the Hydro King still following?"

Kaolin craned her head back to look behind them. "Head of the pack."

"A little grace with your language please, Kaolin." But Minerva smiled.

They halted upon reaching the Temple of the Three. From the sky's view, it was situated opposite the Imperial Academy on the other side of the palace. Though still part of the palace grounds, the nobility had access to the temple.

Its pillars shone an alabaster white as the sun rose. Up on the roof, the eternal flame burned. In legend, it was said that the fire of that pyre was Phoenix's heart, left in the care of the temple's priestesses and the Imperial Family until she returned for it. They waited for her rebirth, but carried a piece of that flame to the Heir's Tournament so that her presence could watch over the contest.

Minerva didn't particularly care for the tradition, but waited for the chosen priestess with the torch of Phoenix flame borne in her hand. The woman's long scarlet robes almost trailed to her toka's hooves as the animal jogged to the front of the line.

"I think that's everyone. We're ready," Kaolin said.

Closing her eyes, Minerva sucked in a deep breath and held it for several counts. Then she expelled it, a hint of fire leaving her mouth—just enough to set her golden eyes alight.

Perhaps it was her training and old instincts, the jangle of harnesses and the torch held aloft like a standard. Minerva raised her hand again while the gates creaked open. She presented the signal to advance and let her hand fall.

It was then that she caught sight of the smudge of blood staining her knuckles.

Her mind flashed to Kodak kissing her hand—the hacking cough and the pain in his eyes. She turned around in her saddle, but couldn't catch sight of him.

Minerva faced forward again—a kiss of crimson on the ivory white of her hand.