Minerva progressed through the eerily silent passages below the Imperial Palace, torch held aloft in her hand. She climbed cracking stone steps, the walls damp and blackened with musty-smelling mold. Rats scurried back into their holes just beyond her circle of firelight. Her hand still shook, causing the light to waver.

As she walked—passing from one persona to the other—her shoulders drooped, head bowing from an invisible weight. But her hands stopped trembling.

The encounter with the Hydro entourage and her subsequent scare evaporated from the surface of her thoughts like morning dew. More pressing matters took their place, stirred to the top by the remembrance of spears with further reach than any Pyro sword.

Like skewers for meat.

War is inevitable. You can only delay it, the methods you use to prolong the peace often being the very ones to cause the first bloodshed.

The wise words of Matsudo Kavighn. Former general of the Empire, a man of battle.

He'd taught her everything, from how to recognize the perfectly balanced weapon to the signs of coming conflict.

How to be the last one standing when the conflict came.

A pair of eyes appeared at the edge where the light ended and the shadows began. They shone like burnished copper coins.

"Greetings, majestic one," Minerva said.

Azuki jumped down from the crevasse in the wall where the stone had crumbled. No one had bothered to clean up the jumble of rocks, but Azuki stepped over them with ease, not a pebble coming loose.

Minerva doubted his feet even touched them—the seven-tailed defied the falling force.

"I've told you not to call me by honorific," Azuki chided, pointedly waving his three golden and white-striped tails.

Kats often specialized in one of their abilities—or just preferred it over the others, Minerva could never tell which. Azuki chose to hide four of his seven tails by illusion and pass for a three-tailed.

"Humans demand too much of power," he'd said when Minerva inquired. "I'd hate to spend all my time setting them in their place."

Yet he never minded putting Minerva in hers. It could almost be affection.

"There isn't anyone to hear me," Minerva answered.

"You insult the rats."

They'd arrived at the upper halls, where servants had swept the floor clean of dirt and the ceiling of cobwebs. Torches dotted the walls and Minerva slipped hers into an empty sconce.

"Why do you like fire?" Azuki asked, his voice seeming to come from the ceiling. He enjoyed pretending to be taller than her.

"It keeps us warm, lets us see."

Azuki gave the kat version of a laugh—somewhere between a purr and choking up a hairball. Human laughter was one of the few things they couldn't mimic. "You can see in the dark as well as I now. Why the light then?"

Kats. Ever candid and lacking tact.

Taking the spiral of stairs that led to her room's floor, Minerva deferred her answer. Azuki wouldn't mind, kats could leave off a conversation and pick it back up days later. Once they asked a question, however, they'd badger until the answer satisfied. If it didn't, they'd pry further until it did.

"The tea, Azuki?" I need a good report after this toka crap of a day.

"The old one went on rampage again." Nola.

Minerva sighed. She'd forgotten to leave a note. "As expected."

"The Hydro embassy arrived."

"I know that."

"Mala said she missed you, though I can't imagine why."

Minerva scoffed at Azuki's wry tone. "If I died, you'd be putting red bean buns on my grave."

He ignored that. "Why the light then?"

Subject jump. Talking with kats meant being quick on your feet.

"Maybe it's not the fire and light I like, but the shadows and darkness that I hate," Minerva said slowly.

"Hmm."

At least her response sated his curiosity.

Azuki darted ahead to make sure some servant wasn't lurking in the tunnels to escape their work. The maze was extensive enough that two people heading the same direction could never meet, but it didn't hurt to take precautions.

She reached her room with a small sigh of relief. Years ago, she'd gotten turned around and spent hours crying in a corner deep in the lower levels, thinking she'd starve to death or have to eat rats. How she'd ended up all the way down there, Minerva didn't know, but the stark fear before Aunt Edina found her had impressed a valuable lesson in her mind.

Minerva reached up to unlatch the lock over the hidden door. "I know you're there," she murmured, face pressed up against the rough stone. She strained, stretching as far as she could until the click sounded.

Azuki materialized at her feet. Trying to trick her with his invisibility had become an obsession of his. "What gave me away?" If kats had facial expressions, Minerva would have thought his whiskery eyebrows were furrowed in confusion.

Kats were bright, but they lacked logic at times. She said 'I know you're there' whether she knew it or not. Given his absence, he'd never know she'd guessed wrong.

"Maybe you were staring at me too hard," she suggested. "The feel of your eyes on my back might've done it."

While Azuki grumbled, Minerva pressed stones in sequence. Another click and the wall swung outward, a wooden door with a thin layer of rock overlaying it. Azuki bounded in easily, but Minerva took a deep breath before she stepped inside and shut the door behind her.

Delicate silks brushed her face and hands. The inside of the wardrobe smelled of the soap the washers used and the faint scent of her perfume.

The door to her room wouldn't open. Minerva tried again, wondering if it had jammed.

Locked.

"Hmm," Azuki purred, "I thought it might do that."

"Pray tell why."

"I watched Nola lock it."

Minerva paused. "How is that a 'might'?"

"Since she locked it on that side, it might not be locked on this side," Azuki responded with complete seriousness.

Kat logic. Minerva didn't argue, that would trigger a "why" question she didn't have the time or patience to answer. She put her eye to the keyhole.

In the red glare of the fireplace directly across from the wardrobe, Nola reclined peacefully in her rocking chair. The flickering flames reflected in her golden eyes which were affixed on the pages of an old, leather-bound tome.

"Nola! Let me in!" Minerva shouted through the keyhole.

After wetting her fingers on her tongue, the confounded white-haired woman flipped a page of her book, giving no indication of having heard any voice other than the crackling fire.

Minerva banged her head on the door. She fished for the key in one of the numerous pockets sewn into her long, billowing sleeves. When her arms hung at her sides, the sleeves fell past her hands by a good, few inches.

Once in the room, she locked the wardrobe and tucked the key away. Nola read on.

Minerva snatched the book from her old nurse's hands. She almost summoned her own fire to set it aflame, but remembered her vow and tossed it into the fireplace instead.

Nola extended a hand, but not in surprise or anger. The book landed in the middle of the logs and the fire changed to a dark green that didn't burn it. Emerald kirukkan stone flashing on her forehead, Nola glared at Minerva.

"I'm not a child to be locked in or out, Nola," Minerva growled. "Where's Mala?"

Seeming to deflate, Nola sighed and rubbed her head underneath the chain circling her brow. "Good morning to you too." She eased out of her chair and shuffled over to pull her book out from the fire.

"Mala went for a fly," Azuki whispered in Minerva's ear. He didn't let Nola know he could speak. "She told me she'd be back by the time you woke up from a nap."

Minerva stalked over to her chest of drawers. Shedding her clothes like a snake skin, she ignored Nola brushing the ash from her beloved book. She stuffed the scattered clothing into a hidden compartment and slammed it shut before pulling a thin white shift on over her head.

Without another word or glance at Nola, Minerva stepped into her adjoining bedroom and locked the door. Not that it mattered. Nola had a key.

"I can't wait until I'm an official adult," Minerva muttered.

Azuki cocked his head at her.

"What?" Minerva snapped at him. She immediately regretted it when he shied away from her, ears back against his head. "I'm sorry," she said.

She climbed onto her bed, hugging her knees to her chest. Azuki hopped up to sit beside her on the pale peach-colored blankets.

"You've been tense since you returned," Azuki noted.

Minerva bit the inside of her cheek. Vulnerability wasn't the answer and spilling all her secrets to Azuki would be foolish. They had a mutual understanding at best. She didn't own him and she wouldn't fully confide in him.

"Have you ever experienced war, Azuki?" she asked, voice low.

He curled up on one of the pillows and yawned. "I've been in fights but I don't think this is the same as your 'war'."

Minerva shook her head. "Never mind." She slipped beneath the covers, dreading shutting her eyes.

"I think you should tell me about it though," Azuki said. "The sleeping screams happen less often when you talk."

She slowly sat back up. Her nightmares must be getting worse if Azuki noticed them. "I've tasted war," Minerva whispered, "And I never want to again."

"I'm not sure I understand," Azuki said. "You're a young one, aren't you? Young ones do not fight real fights. How do you 'taste' war? Does it taste like blood? Blood tastes good."

Minerva pressed her palms to her eyes. She didn't have the energy to explain and she needed to sleep. She lay back down, but now the memories came rushing in.

Every Pyro noble was sent to train with the imperial army for a year when they reached seven summers. They learned as much as could be pounded into their still soft brains, mainly discipline, leadership, and honor codes. Depending on your family's political clout, you'd be assigned to safer posts or fronts with better officers to train you. The majority of the time, you wouldn't even witness combat.

Sometimes family influence didn't matter. If you were an unwanted child, not only did they not care—

They wanted you to die out there.

Vren had been in line to be Emperor, Minerva was just a liability, a pawn that could be used by the Empire's enemies. She'd been shipped off to the southern front on the Rockland's borders where the war raged against the Terrons.

She hadn't guessed it then, but her aunt, Edina, must have saved her life. When she'd arrived at the Pyro army's camp with a half dozen other children, she'd handed a sealed envelope to a commanding officer. With a raised eyebrow at the sender and recipient, he'd taken her directly to General Kavighn, 'The Kirukkan Gauntlet', himself.

He must have known, Minerva thought, staring at her ceiling. She almost thought she could smell the battle again, with its stench of blood and burning. He must have known my ability. Edina must have told him.

She blocked out the rest of the memories. They'd rob her of sleep.

Except that night on Terron soil, the night the war ended.

They'd been drenched in blood and it had dried their clothes to crust. Blood of allies, blood of enemies, some of her own mixed in for good measure. The rest of Matsudo's personal guard had been slaughtered. Back in the trees, their blood and the assassins' blood watered the ground.

So much red stained that night.

"You know what the beautiful and terrible thing about war is, Min?" Matsudo had asked. They sat out in the clearing, under a sky filled with smoke and ash. Not a league away, a Terron fortress burned. Anyone who survived had fled in the opposite direction.

"What?" she'd whispered.

"Those who live by the sword, die by the sword." He slid his kirukkan blade out of its sheath, moonlit silver on silver. "If you never raise a blade against someone, you might still be stabbed, but the chances are less. But if you do direct your blade at another, you must know that it will eventually return on you."

Minerva nodded, not fully understanding.

"Some swords are soft, they aren't fit for war," Matsudo had continued. "Mercy is too thick a flaw in them and they'll break at first contact with the enemy. Other swords are too hard and unyielding. They've lost their humanity and think only of justice. Cold justice makes a blade brittle. You must be a weapon of justice tempered by mercy."

"What about a blade of kirukkan?" Minerva had asked. She scraped her nails along her hand. The crimson coating it wouldn't come off. "Kirukkan never breaks."

Matsudo smiled, his white teeth seeming too bright against his tanned, weathered skin. He wore his armor still. She, on the other hand, had no need of any. "You find me an unbreakable person and we'll talk about that," he'd answered.

He half-turned back to the forest behind, where the bodies waited to be burned. "After this night, the sword will come for you someday. Flame send that you're a tempered blade to meet it."

"And what if I'm not?"

His mouth had tightened into a grim line, eyes like flints of steel. The dark grey gauntlet on his left hand clenched into a fist. "Then you'll just be waiting to break and the day of reckoning will have come."

Minerva's eyelids fluttered shut as she drifted closer and closer to unconsciousness. Even though he slept at her feet, Azuki's purr sounded as if he were right next to her head.

She thought of her panic earlier that morning, of her fear of shadows and war.

I've followed your word in everything else, Matsudo. I've failed only in this one thing. I'm not a tempered blade.

I'm brittle and ready to break.