Minerva brushed her fingertips against the single puncture wound leaking blood on her neck. She set the compact mirror down on the neat stack of her new clothes and took up a handkerchief to dab at the bite. To all appearances, it looked like a pale viper's mark: a clean incision larger than a needle would leave, but smaller than a knife.
The only flaw in that logic was that you never found such an injury on a living specimen—the venom that accompanied the bite quickly turned the victim into a corpse.
Minerva settled onto the carpet with a sigh. Moonlight filtered through the skylights above her, striking the white kirukkan stone she held in her other hand. When she'd woken up in the Trial chamber—as naked as the day she'd left her mother's womb—the stone had pressed its ridges into her hand. She'd almost needed to pry her own fingers out of their death grip.
In the night's silence and the isolation of the hall, she'd been granted time to think. But how could she make sense of what happened? Even with all the time in the world?
The white light of the stone gently pulsed in time with the throb in her neck, both synchronized to the rising beat of her heart. Blood rushed in her ears as she recalled the surreal events of her Trial and committed them to memory in painstaking detail. They could mean nothing, but they could mean everything.
All she knew was that she'd be foolish to dismiss it as a mere dream.
When she re-imagined the snake's eye, without meaning to, she reached to the hollow place.
She found it waiting for her.
"It can't be," Minerva whispered. At the least, she'd expected its absence for a season's worth of time. At the most, for it to never return.
I'll be leaving a gift for you in your reality.
She wouldn't use it. Never again. But her desire lacked true resolve. If enough lay at stake, Minerva knew she wouldn't hesitate.
Pushing the thought away, she dropped the blood-stained cloth and picked up her garments.
With all she'd risked for it, she couldn't bear to set her heart stone aside for even a second. When it came time to tie her waist sash and put her hair up, she held the kirukkan gem between her front teeth. How fitting that the robes she'd chosen to be left out were white. Her ensemble would be color-coordinated.
She unsheathed her sword and inspected the blade before sliding it back home.
Weapon—check.
Golden flames ignited around her fist as she internally cheered at their return. They spiraled up her outstretched arm, though she kept them contained so as not to incinerate her sleeves. Collecting the fire into an orb above her palm, she stoked the temperature until the air shimmered from the heat. She reached her limit sooner than she expected.
Now for the real test.
Like drawing a line in sand to connect two pools of water, she tapped into the power of her heart stone. It flowed through her—her body functioning as a conduit—and out her hand. At the same time, the ball of fire's color slowly altered. From the base up, white flames grew to overtake the gold.
Sweat beaded on Minerva's skin as she strained to turn all the flames white.
A little more now!
The fire at the very top remained stubbornly gold. Minerva cut the flow.
She bent over gasping for air. So close. Once she'd had more practice and warmed back up to using her fire wielding, surely she'd be able to reach her full potential as Muran. Even so, she felt exhilarated. Heat replaced the hollowness in her bones, though with it came a sort of insanity—the desire to set the world ablaze and dance in the flames.
A grin split her face. She'd really done it. The solid color of her kirukkan stone and the strength of her wielding confirmed her rank as Muran. Lieutenant's commission, here I come. And Tobias had best watch his back.
Fire—check.
Minerva half-ran, half-skipped over to the doors back to the assembly hall with her stone clasped in her right hand.
When she pried open the heavy doors, she realized most of those who'd been in attendance had retired for the night. The gold dragon's head rested on its chest, eyes closed and a faint snore rumbling from its snout. Kaolin shifted slightly between the dragon's feet, curled up in a smaller ball than seemed humanly possible, also fast asleep.
For the briefest moment, Minerva considered scaring her awake. Instead she bowed to the white dragon and sent a mental greeting, which Kazuo—as he introduced himself—returned.
Fourteen hours by the clock, Kazuo informed her. Slightly longer than average.
My thanks for presiding over my Trial, Minerva answered. She took her seat on the throne the servants had set on the dais. Splinters of wood stuck up in places, but more than that, Minerva wished the seat were cushioned. And my apologies for the scene I caused earlier. Kazuo's neutral grunt of response barely registered in her preoccupied mind.
Minerva ruefully considered her rash actions and words. On the whole it had not been the most strategic of choices and she'd come close to displaying her cards before the right moment arrived.
More than anything else, Charna had warned her of the consequences of such a decision. "Some people rule by confidence. They wield fear and power like a double-edged sword," she'd said. "But there are others who prefer to move in silence. In a seeming day, they overturn the course of long-standing regimes. Only they know their victories were hard-fought. Their battle was won the moment they laid their course with the determination to see it out, no matter the personal cost."
The fact that the person behind the mentality she'd adopted could well be her current enemy filled Minerva with unease. How could a student surpass the master? She may have learned the ways of a shadow, but Charna had been born as one.
She glanced over at the still slumbering Kaolin and wondered if the spy would be sleeping as easily if she weren't shielded by a dragon. With Kaolin, Minerva had sent shadow against shadow, spy against spy.
And she could only pray hers would prove to be stronger and smarter than Kovine's.
Kaolin sat up and stretched while a yawn tumbled from her mouth. She rubbed her bleary eyes and frowned at Minerva. "Were you watching me sleep?"
Minerva raised an eyebrow. "I hope you weren't unconscious this whole time and found some information instead."
Kaolin groaned and adjusted her top before crawling out of her dragon nest to sit at Minerva's feet. She smacked her mouth a couple times as if trying to force moisture into her mouth. "The High King's son really likes raspberries," she finally said.
"What?"
Kaolin gave her a sly smile. "You said 'anything I could find out'. That's what I found out."
"I don't care about his taste in berries," Minerva groaned. "Not unless I was planning on poisoning him and I'm not there yet." She was beginning to remember why she'd never partnered with Kaolin for any other missions after the first.
"Well, if that tidbit isn't to your taste" —Kaolin sighed in mock disappointment— "then perhaps you'll be interested in more general information. Besides the High King of Polara and the Prince, the visiting embassy also consists of their distant relative Queen Aleksandria. She rules a northern city bordering the ocean. Can't remember the name right now." Kaolin paused and tilted her head as if listening.
"What is it?" Minerva asked, taking a cursory assessment of the room. Someone could possibly have lingered even if the room appeared empty. She dropped her voice. "Think you should check to see if anyone's listening?"
Kaolin shook her head. "We're fine. As I was saying, there's also the High King's young daughter as well as his advisor, Orion, seems he's positioning to win the crown when Taras Nakoya retires."
Minerva frowned. "I thought his son would inherit."
"Not the way their governmental system works." Kaolin sucked at her lip. "Moving on, the Terrons were behind the Terron raid, but it seems Dara was involved as well. I couldn't find out when or how they were brought in, but her men were the ones who cleaned everything up to where nothing could be found."
"Not Kovine's?" Minerva couldn't help but ask. One of the lamps sputtered out on the wall and she flicked her wrist to send a wisp of her flame upwards. She tethered herself to the fire, letting it draw its fuel from her, but in such a miniscule amount that she hardly noticed.
"She's keeping her hands clean, but I don't doubt she's involved," Kaolin answered. "I couldn't get too close to her though, she's hired new surveillance." The spy frowned accusingly at Minerva. "You didn't tell me she had Charna."
Minerva summoned little sparks to dance at her fingertips. "I figured you'd find out soon enough."
Kaolin ground her teeth together. "Before she became a Blood Shadow, Charna was the Phoenix Kin's finest spy. Now, she's not only the red guild coalition's best spy, but also their top assassin. You didn't think I'd need to know the oh so vital fact that I could run into my greatest rival and die?"
Minerva admitted to herself that she hadn't thought of it. "You're still alive, aren't you?" She almost fell off her throne as Kaolin moved to slap her.
The sound of clapping stopped them both in their tracks. Kodak stood in the second row of long benches. He vaulted over them to saunter to the bottom of the steps. "Don't stop on my account. I was quite enjoying the show."
Kaolin righted herself, mouth working to get her defense out. "He couldn't—there's no way he's came in without me knowing! I have a kat out in the hall!"
Minerva eyed Kodak warily and didn't look away when she answered Kaolin. "Maybe the kat abandoned its post."
Kaolin snorted. "I bribed her with fish—she'd rather die."
"You could ask me how long I've been here instead of talking as if I'm not," Kodak said, adjusting the collar of his white shirt.
There it is. Minerva marked how the Hydro prince's eyes had slowly been darkening to a stormy blue. He must've used his mysterious ability to hide his presence.
"You shouldn't be sneaking around where you aren't wanted," Minerva said quietly.
Kodak placed a hand to his chest as if she'd pierced him through the heart. His polished boot squeaked on the tiled kirukkan floor when he stepped back. "You wound me, Highness. I didn't think you'd be so cruel."
Minerva shot a look at Kaolin at the same time the spy arched an eyebrow at her. "Get him out of here, please." She stood from her seat and murmured in the woman's ear. "And make sure of his cooperation and understanding of the need for silence."
"Gladly," Kaolin whispered, her tone harsh. From the way her cheeks reddened, Kaolin had taken the breach of security as an attack on her skills as a spy. She descended the stairs and flicked her finger at Kodak to follow her.
At least the Hydro seemed to have no problem being escorted out. He bowed to Minerva before swiveling on his heel. His longer strides caught him up to Kaolin in a few steps.
"How did you find out I liked raspberries?" Minerva heard him ask her maidservant before they turned the corner to the entryway.
She decided to file away a mental note on raspberries for future reference.
Only in case she needed to poison him, of course.
Of course, a dragon's voice echoed in her mind.
Minerva sighed and dropped back onto her makeshift throne. Does your kind have any concept of privacy? she asked Kazuo.
The dragon lowered himself to lie on the surface of the dais, though with his head still raised. We do. I merely wished to get your attention to decline your apology from earlier. There was no need.
Minerva chuckled bitterly. There was much need.
A breath of silence passed as if Kazuo wished to let her opinion have its moment of life.
Korlana did much the same, he said.
While Minerva knew dragons lived for centuries—several times the lifespan of a human—she'd never heard it placed in such stark, personal terms.
She spoke with a dragon who had known her great-great-great-great-grandmother. Age often meant wisdom, so she didn't counter his statement.
It is better to begin this way, Kazuo continued. Later, when compromise grows tempting, you will remember your vision and be able to stand fast. Even if few come to pledge their allegiance to you, do not waver. Humans are drawn to conviction. It is when you are without vision that your people will perish.
Minerva laughed as part of the weight of anxiety lifted from her chest. Your words are far better than the sage advice of imperial counselors. What could I offer to persuade you to serve me such wisdom daily?
Closing his eyes, Kazuo sent a puff of air out of his nostrils. Nothing would persuade me. There is only freedom and man cannot give it to me—he can only take it away. In this way, my advice is freely given as well. And because I am generous, I shall offer something more. You have heard of the fire skills?
He'd piqued her curiosity. Coming from anyone else, Minerva would have wondered what the price of the knowledge would be, but with Kazuo she didn't hide her interest. The fire skills were specialized areas of power in fire wielding, such as propulsion—the ability to shoot fire out of your feet at a strong and steady enough flow to simulate flight for a period of time—or color guise—the potential to change the color of your wielding fire as you wished.
Good. You have the basic knowledge. A loud snore from the gold dragon put a dragonish grin on Kazuo's face. She is such a noisy sleeper, yes? He heaved a sigh. Every month, the white dragons hold a—you might call it a meeting. But in this gathering, we share information, each in his or her chosen area of expertise. The knowledge is not hoarded, it is owned by the collective group.
Minerva opened her mouth to ask a question, but Kazuo answered before she voiced it.
We do not usually share with humans. Concerning the fire skills though, one of our own has discovered through the accumulation of data that the skills do not manifest randomly as has been supposed. Each individual has a propensity to manifest only certain skills, yes, but this is caused by a trigger. Specifically, when you come into contact with someone who possesses the same skill—in its awakened form as this researcher termed it—as you also possess in its dormant form. This— Kazuo stopped himself. My apologies. I tend to ramble.
"It's alright. I'm grateful to receive your words," Minerva answered aloud. She'd begun to get head rush from the prolonged mental conversation. Truthfully, she didn't mind at all. The days when Edina had dropped her off at a dragon's cave where they'd agreed to teach her had been days of the purest bliss. They only accepted young children however. She'd cried the day they turned her away. "Though I wonder why you've decided to tell me."
Kazuo's eyelids cracked to gaze at her, half-lidded.
It is as you said, he responded, there are those who prefer to move in silence.