Whisper of Blade | ✓ (Crimson #1)

Chapter 12: Fake Enemies

858 A.G.M.

Present day

The empty place had deserted her.

Minerva knew it as surely as if she'd woken to realize her eyes had been clawed out, or if a thunderclap had left her deaf.

Its absence marked her. Only fear and pain accompanied her out of restless sleep.

"Hold her down!"

Minerva thrashed against the force bearing down on her. I can't die like this. I can't!

"Pyroline! Snap out of it!"

She knew that voice. Her vision cleared, eyes focusing on Matsudo's face. Minerva gave a sob of relief as he gathered her up in his arms, wrapping a blanket around her like a newborn. She trembled at the cold sweat on her skin that burrowed down deep into her bones and stayed there like an unwelcome draft.

"Flames and ashes, I did it again ... didn't I?" Minerva whispered.

Besides Matsudo, Nola reclined in her rocking chair which sat in its usual corner and the Hydro high prince leaned against the wall between them. Minerva didn't recognize the younger woman who sat on the floor away from the rest of them, with her back resting on the door. The gathered company wore somber faces—the kind which should've been reserved for a funeral.

How close had she been to giving them one?

Matsudo cleared the gravel from his throat before speaking. "You did. It's been—what? Three years since your last incident?"

Minerva nodded. "And eight years before that one," she croaked. Her eyes darted to the dark recesses in the corners of the room, searching for the thing that she didn't dare give thought or voice.

Twenty-six. Twenty-six. Twenty-six.

The numbers rang through her head. Unending. Mocking. Scornful.

Condemning.

"Don't think on it," Matsudo said softly, "Focus on what we're discussing for now."

Minerva shook her head, hissing at the burning sensation across her stomach. "I need ... wine." She took one look at Nola's disapproving glare and open mouth and screamed, "Knock me out then! Something! I don't care what you do, but I need to end ... this."

Matsudo's embrace tightened but Minerva resisted the calming nature of the added pressure.

"What exactly do you want to end, Minerva?" Her name sounded strange on his tongue. He called her 'Pyroline' as his student, 'Imperial Heiress' as his liege.

And back on the night she'd acted as his savior, he'd been the first to call her 'Kozakura'—an affectionate name following in the path of Aunt Edina's 'little blossom'. He knew what she used it for now.

Minerva thought it fitting; Kozakura had been birthed in the aftermath of slaughter, hers would be the name belonging to the ruthless assassin.

"All of it," Minerva answered. She sucked in a breath to keep from crying. "I want it all to end."

Matsudo rested a large hand on her head. "If you truly wanted it all to end, then you wouldn't suggest temporary measures like alcohol or Nola here slugging you in the jaw." A hidden laugh tinted his voice.

Minerva groaned but did her best to keep her thoughts in line. Even exhausted and half-dead, she knew they needed her—or at least needed her support in helping herself.