Whisper of Blade | ✓ (Crimson #1)

Chapter 40: Bittersweet

A bird whistled through the sky overhead.

The thrill of battle soared in Minerva's blood, her veins. She could not stop it or deny it any more than she could halt the rising sun in its heavenly course. From her father's side flowed the blood of warriors—from her mother, the blood of survivors.

After two days spent in sleep and training, she stood on the white sand of the arena. The fine grains warmed her bare feet and the sun's touch fell on her bared shoulders. They'd cleaned the inside of the bowl after the Commoner's Tournament and now four outer-ring victors numbered among the ranks of noble-born.

Amid the thundering roar of the crowd, the rows of competitors bowed to the Emperor and Empress seated in the highest balcony. Minerva bent at the waist then straightened, taking deep breaths. The noise of the onlookers and the bodies around her—all thrumming with tension—threatened to unleash the flow of adrenaline through her body.

She could not afford to lose her composure. In a competition like this, burning out early would seal her defeat.

Above the Emperor, a white dragon rested on the balcony roof. He announced the rules, voice resounding like the starting gong.

You could not bring in outside weapons. If you killed your opponent or continued after they surrendered, you would be disqualified. The matches had been pre-determined, assigning opponents based on relative prowess and rank, among lesser factors. Seven rounds, seven fights.

One champion.

Minerva frowned. She didn't like the sound of pre-determined matches, not when she'd requested for everything to be randomized. But at least one of her demands had been met.

"All competitors who remain in the running will be sequestered below the arena and will not be allowed to spectate. If they are found on the surface when it is not their turn to fight, they will be disqualified," the dragon rumbled.

A clamor of cries surged up around Minerva. For all their supposed fortitude in the face of fire, the noble children rebelled at the thought of privation. They wished to cheer on their comrades, place bets on the matches' outcomes, sip wine and eat dainty cakes.

They considered it a game, albeit a bloody one.

Minerva planned to break them. She'd already begun the fight, whether they knew it or not—bringing down morale, taxing their minds with the environment they'd be placed in. They'd fight her blind and she would keep the edge always losing had given her.

Only a few of the competitors kept silent—the four commoners, clustered as far from the center as possible and Kodak and Brenna near them.

The Hydro prince looked at her. Minerva quickly glanced away. They hadn't spoken during the return trip to the palace and parted with only a few words. Since then, she'd slept first on the roof of the palace, then in a secluded corner in the gardens with Mala keeping her warm.

Even though she'd recovered enough to train, she did so alone instead of scheduling sparring sessions with Brenna. When she heard footsteps approaching in the corridors, she turned down another hall. Though she'd always eaten around set meals, lately she'd taken to raiding the kitchen at strange hours and never at the same time twice.

Odd behavior, Nola would remark, if she were still present to say it. Minerva had ditched her guard and assigned them to patrolling or standing outside rooms she wasn't in. Kaolin may have lingered, but Minerva guessed she'd left the palace and found another job by now. Azuki had disappeared which was the only normal and expected occurrence the past two days.

While she listened to the announcement of the first round matches, Minerva felt Kodak's stare and heard the question she knew he'd ask if she gave him the opportunity.