Whisper of Blade | ✓ (Crimson #1)

Chapter 18: Sun and Snow

"The flame of my heart is pledged to you, heir to the Pyro throne," Amarante murmured from where she knelt at Minerva's feet. Behind the kirukist, the ranks of highborn began to make their re-entrance to the assembly hall. "I will serve you until my life flame dies. This I swear."

"Rise. I accept your oath," Minerva intoned. On either side of her throne, a row of guards kept watch over the proceedings. Though her father had offered her the Blackguard, she'd asked Matsudo to handpick from among his former soldiers instead. She didn't care to be assassinated today.

They'd gone so far as to paint a white circle on the right shoulder of their armor, black sun still showing on their left. One of their number—Pyra if she remembered correctly—leaned forward from her post directly at Minerva's elbow to whisper a warning. "Heir Apparent, I would advise caution. This woman is not known to be ... stable."

Minerva winced. Inside her sleeves, she ran her fingers along the scars that had formed on her hands.

She couldn't have been more surprised when Amarante only grumbled, "This is what I get for not leaving the mountain this decade. You'd think being thrown in the pond would be enough for the week." But then the kirukist stuck her tongue out at Pyra and any credibility she'd just garnered for being somewhat normal burned to ash.

"We appreciate your loyal concern, Pyra," Minerva said, "but it is unnecessary."

The woman bowed and withdrew, though out of the corner of her eye, Minerva caught sight of Pyra's hand gripping her sword hilt.

Amarante stood with a huff, brushing off her chima. She held out her hand.

Minerva hesitated before pulling back her sleeve and opening her fist. Her mouth opened in a silent, anguished cry when Amarante snatched the gem from her palm, the kirukist's bone fingers brushing her palm for the briefest of seconds.

They were warmer than Minerva would have expected bones to be.

"My, what a beauty," Amarante cooed. Not taking her eyes off the kirukkan stone, she unlatched the case at her side.

Leaning forward in her seat, Minerva watched with interest as the kirukist fastened a device to her head with a metal arm that focused multiple lenses over her right eye. "The clarity is flawless. No imperfections," Amarante said in an awed whisper.

As minutes burned by—fed to Amarante's inspection—the nobles waiting to give their oaths grew restless. When Brenna pushed through the crowd amidst glaring prefecture rulers, Kaolin moved to bar her way. Minerva waved her back. She supposed she should be grateful for her guards' hyper vigilance, but it was also beginning to wear at her.

"They don't like to be kept waiting," Brenna said in a low tone. She glanced at the preoccupied kirukist. "Especially not by a commoner."

"She's not a commoner, Bren. Not when in imperial employ," Minerva answered, though she glanced worriedly at the people continuing to funnel into the hall.

"Alright, but we may have some bigger fish to fry," Brenna said, resting her hands on her hips. She'd braided her long white hair into braids and twisted them into a crown about her head.

Minerva frowned. "You've said that phrase before. I still don't quite understand it means."

"Bigger fish mean bigger problems, bigger people," Brenna explained with semi-patience. She held her hands out, the space between them widening with each "bigger" she added.

"And why are we frying people?" Minerva asked.

With a sigh of disgust, the Hydro noble spat at the air. Her hand whipped out to catch the spittle before it struck the ground and a second later, it dissolved to vapor.