In her day, Empress Korlana debated the ethics of caging manticores and pitting them against each other in bloody matches. When she gained the throne, she razed Pyronia's main arena and several others to the ground.

Minerva rested her hands on the balcony rail overlooking a gigantic bowl of sand. Sheer metal walls enclosed the vast space with gates at spaced intervals to provide entry. Up past the walls' cliffs, metal barriers were erected to separate the narrow area reserved for the arena wardens from the crowd's spacious seating.

Blazing torches and banners with the family crests of the noble houses lined the perimeter. Above her grandstand, Phoenix's torch burned alongside the current crest of house Pyroline: a katana buried in a mountain with a black sun behind.

This new arena was her father's so called magnum opus: The Pyrogon.

We really went and built it back bigger and better, didn't we? History taught us nothing.

People surged into the arena, filling the spectators' section to the brim. There had already been an audience gathered for the kickoff of the Commoner's Tournament. Nothing drew the crowds quite like an execution though.

"Your seat, Heir Apparent?" Pyra offered, setting down a chair.

Minerva's fingernails tapped the lacquered wood of the rail as she straightened her back. "I think I'll stand, thank you."

Pyra nodded in acceptance and exchanged places with Kaolin, re-assuming her position of guarding the entrance to the private balcony.

"I'm using the seat if you're not," Kaolin said, plopping down on the chair. "You know, you should probably take that coat off."

"And stand here half-naked for everyone to see? I'd rather not." The noon sun shone down, but the cold still seeped into Minerva's bones. Since her talk with Dai and the subsequent overheating of her system, she hadn't been able to get warm again. Yet another thing wrong with her body to worry her. "How did the talk with the keepers go?"

Kaolin laughed. "They're not happy as you well know. The traditional assassin's execution is by whisper of blade. Also, they just cleaned the sand."

Thousands of spotless grains beneath them, all wiped free of any sign of blood or gore. If only the past could be so easily cleansed. Minerva sighed and sipped at her flask of water. Kodak had refilled it and told her to keep it. Consider it a thank you gift, he'd said.

Minerva shook her head. Only later did she realize that the leather-wrapped container was crafted from the same material as Brenna's—durable and capable of keeping its contents in a state of perpetual cold.

"The Empress has already arranged for Charna's execution according to the prescribed manner. I'd hate to steal her thunder." Though throwing a person to the manticores is something I could see her doing as well. Minerva's hand curled into a fist tight enough that her knuckles popped. "They agreed to release Chi?"

"After much ... discussion. They're showmen to the core and Chi plays to the fans the least. Goes for the throat too often." Kaolin stood and joined her at the rail.

"Means she's the hungriest," Minerva murmured. "I'm not leaving any ashes to be burned this time."

The Pyrogon buzzed with activity before erupting into cheers. Minerva watched from her raised position of several stories as two of her guards threw Dai out into the bowl. The gate crashed down behind him while he plowed headfirst into the ground, eating sand.

Opposite him, another gate opened and Chi prowled out, her giant paws leaving indents in the gritty terrain. Majestic. Even half-starved with her ribs showing through her skin, that could be the only word used to describe the lioness.

She stretched out her leathery wings and let her roar shake the heavens.

"I thought you said she wasn't interested in showmanship." Minerva chuckled.

Kaolin clucked her tongue. "Only comparatively. They're all trained to appease the crowds after all. Watch her. She's smart and sizing him up, but once she does, there'll be no playing around."

The crowd booed. Dai had decided to take a meditative posture on the sand. Chi paced in a half-circle a good distance away. Every so often she licked her chops as if tempted by the prospective meal.

"She's quite a bit like you actually. Or you like her," Kaolin remarked.

Minerva figured there could be worse comparisons. "How so?"

"Terrible at politics and playing up to people. Undervalued. Starving. Both cautious and ruthless, calculating and reckless." Kaolin's droll manner shifted to being serious as she went on. "You're both survivors. But what you've been through has scarred you beyond belief. Kozakura, you don't have an ounce of trust in humanity left in your body and I bet Chi doesn't either."

Minerva's hand gripped the cloth of Kodak's coat above her chest as if it could stop the aching pain that seized her. "Kaolin ..."

She'd known her spy would be dangerous, but not in this way. A real arrow could not pierce her this deep.

Kaolin reached out with her hand as if to offer comfort, but drew it back a moment after. "The worst part, I think," she said quietly. "Is that they turned you both into trained killers."

The water flask fell with a plink onto the stone floor of the balcony. It sounded distant, the same as Dai's scream and the subsequent snapping of bones like falling timber.

Is that all I am? All that anyone sees when they look at me?

Kaolin spoke the truth, truth so sharp that it sliced the skin of her soul like shards of broken glass. Minerva didn't want to hear it. What was the point when such words only strengthened the fear she kept so carefully contained?

The fear that she could run as far as she wanted—

She'd never escape herself.

Arena manticores could never be allowed back into the wild. If released, they would slaughter everything living, killing without aim or cause. They'd been hurt so badly, taught that only hurting would garner reward, that the hurt ingrained itself in their flesh and blood and became every instinct.

"I'm a monster, aren't I?" Minerva whispered.

The arena had settled into a lull. Chi feasted on her prey undisturbed, blood staining her fangs, her paws. Along with the rest of the message to the keepers, Kaolin had relayed orders to let the manticore devour the entire body before removing her.

Kaolin bent and picked up the container. "We all are. What I wanted to tell you ... was that you're free from any obligation to carry out vengeance for me."

Minerva turned to her in shock. "What are you talking about?"

"I don't want you to have to kill anymore." Kaolin handed the water bottle back.

"That's a generous sentiment, but useless in the end." Minerva accepted the item and toyed with the stopper on the container. Her eyes glossed over the arena but stopped on a woman. Unlike the people around her, her expression didn't betray gleeful interest in the execution. As if an invisible line connected them, the woman looked up at her.

She was crying.

As Minerva watched, the woman took one last glance at the arena before wriggling through the crowd to disappear from sight.

"Did you hear what I said?"

"I—no, I didn't." Ordering Dai's execution hadn't fazed her, but now, seeing someone grieve for him ... Minerva sank onto her seat and set the bottle down to pull her string out of her sleeve.

Kaolin repeated her words slowly. "I said, after today and from overhearing certain other conversations, if ... what you're doing doesn't change soon, the people who die at your hand won't be the only ones that you're killing."

Minerva waited. Here it comes.

"You're killing yourself."

Single knot tied, Minerva's hands stilled. "You think I don't know that?" she said softly.

Kaolin knelt on the floor. The faintest sheen glistened in her eyes. "You don't act as if you do."

"Either I tear myself apart piece by piece, or I let the people I swore to protect die. What would you do?" Her hardened resolve edged closer to brittle.

Kaolin bowed her head and sniffles betrayed her. "Don't you want to live at all?" she asked.

Minerva thought of everything she wanted. Fluffy bean pastries eaten in the sunshine. Azuki purring on her lap. Nola's gentle hands brushing her hair. Sitting at the feet of dragons as they recounted legends filled with heroes. Heroes who were worthy. Heroes who won.

Most of all, the things she could never have again—Auntie Dina smiling at her. Auntie Dina carrying her pick-aback when she feigned being too tired to walk. Auntie Dina tucking her in at night and assuring her that she'd be there in the morning.

"I do want to live." Tears coursed down Minerva's cheeks. "I want to live so badly I can't bear it." Her lip trembled. "But I want for the people I love to live more," she cried.

Weakness, an inner voice whispered. Weakness to cry, to be so bare.

She looked at Kaolin through her bleary tears. Either she'd forgotten earlier or chosen not to remember. Before, when they last parted ways, Minerva had told Kaolin not to look for her again. She'd vanished as well as one could from the sight of a spy. After Charna, she didn't want to form another bond so tight, build another loyalty she'd have to shred like paper.

Yet, she'd let Kaolin back in, thought to keep the woman at arm's length and still be safe.

Maybe Kaolin could see the intent taking shape. Her eyes widened—they were the color of melted honey. Her bangs fell in a soft halo about her forehead and freckles dusted her cheeks. Even if Minerva had forgotten her face before, and would be bound to do so again, she looked now. She didn't look because she would be losing a precious tool, but because ... she would be losing a friend. But she would only admit friendship now, now when she'd decided to put her friend out of harm's way.

It took Kaolin a moment to find her voice. "Don't send me away. Please."

"You're dismissed from my service," Minerva said.

She expected protesting. Bargaining. Reasoning.

She didn't expect for Kaolin to reach out and grab the string of knots, looking as if she wanted to burn the physical record out of existence.

Kaolin sighed and released her hold. "Goodbye."

And she left.

It was like wynter took Minerva in its clutches then. The tears dried and her heart numbed to the pain.

The keepers lured Chi out of the arena to be locked up again. The cleaners followed to scoop away the tainted sand and smooth the ground. The first of the arena fighters proceeded out from their respective starting gates. All of this as the sun waxed and waned, people passing like the seasons before her eyes.

The contestants held the hope of spring brimming to life as they bowed to her. Their goal would not be to win, not in the Commoner's Tournament. Somewhere in the stands, Matsudo would be watching the matches. Their goal would be to impress him, display showmanship and enough sprit to be accepted into the Imperial Academy.

Minerva took up a wooden mallet in her hand and struck the starting gong. The metal plate quivered as it rang, signaling the beginning of the match.

"Fight!" the crowd shouted as one voice.

After slipping the stick back into its holder, Minerva stepped out of the balcony.

Pyra accosted her in the hall leading to the exiting stairs. "Heir Apparent?"

"I'm returning to the palace. Bring the escort." Mala would be outside ... as long as no one had mistaken her for an arena manticore and caged her.

The tournament could progress without her attendance. She had rest to catch up on, research to do. Being human meant mistakes would be made.

That didn't mean repeating history was the best way to make them.