Whisper of Blade | ✓ (Crimson #1)

Chapter 27: First Strike

Minerva resisted the urge to scratch at the scabs on her cheek. The cuts from her mother's metal nails itched as they healed. It didn't help that a thick layer of powder coated her skin in an effort to darken her complexion.

Out in the city at daylight and she was as grumpy as a kat in cold water. Bodies jostled by her corner table. Customers called out for more drinks and serving girls yelled orders to the kitchen.

As the sun rose, the string of golden bells hanging on the door chimed more often, complemented by a meow of greeting from the resident kat. The six-tailed feline—Nokoribi—lounged on the front desk, the plume of her red tail swishing back and forth as she groomed herself. Next to her, a small plate collected coins. Leave a coin for the lucky kat and good fortune would visit you. Steal from the plate and ill fate would be yours, or so the saying went.

The Silver Coin never lacked for business and more than one well-dressed patron attempted to take the seat at Minerva's space before a glare sent them packing.

Minerva sipped at her fourth cup of green tea, thinking of how if Kodak kept her waiting much longer, she'd need to go find a stall out back. But then she'd lose her table.

A pair of hesitant feet stopped near her. Minerva looked up. One of the tavern's boys wrung his hands, looking severely out of his element in his stained apron with leather gloves tucked in the pocket. Doubtless, his normal duties consisted of heavy lifting and cleaning in the kitchen.

Minerva downed her cup of tea before acknowledging him. "You here to throw me out, kid?" she asked in common speech.

Maybe they'd hired a new bouncer—he had the muscle for it. Or he only worked morning hours, so she'd never had occasion to remember him. No wonder he didn't get the busy night shift either. The boy looked like he would say sorry to a pig if it wandered in and he had to toss it out in the mud.

"We're low on tables, miss," he apologized. "You've been here for the better part of an hour and—"

"Did you know," Minerva asked, spinning the cup in her hand, "that the Lion's Den across the street sells their tea for a whole silver penny less?" She would never drink their sludge, but he didn't need to know that.

"I'm sorry," he stammered. "I was not aware."

Minerva considered giving up the table before he had to sweat any more, but sitting out in the cold and staking out the place wasn't ...

Well, it wasn't her cup of tea.

"I'll be here for another quarter hour at most," she reassured him. "If you have any fresh bean pastries, I'll take a plateful." She slid a couple coins across the table at him, but his hand shot out too slow to catch them.

His cheeks flushed scarlet as he stooped to pick them up and two watching girls giggled behind his back. Their shorter skirts barely covered their knees and cuts in their light pink blouses exposed their shoulders. As far as uniforms went, these servers didn't have the shortest end of the stick though.

One of them tapped the boy on the shoulder and held out her hand. "Let me show you how it's done," she said with a wink. "If you will, miss." She handed the coins back to Minerva.

Amused, Minerva slid the coins across the table again.

The serving girl caught them. She flicked her wrist and a flash of silver shot into the air. The other flipped over her knuckles. Even though Minerva watched closely, she couldn't detect what the girl did between closing her fist over the coin and opening it again to reveal it had disappeared. When its companion fell, she caught it and balanced the thin rim on the tip of her finger before it too vanished with a twist of her hand.