Whisper of Blade | ✓ (Crimson #1)

Chapter 5: The Enemy of My Enemy

Minerva didn't have friends. She preferred the term "allies".

When at war, you tried to fight on the least fronts as possible, not let enemies pin you between them. But sometimes you didn't have the firepower. The number of people who wanted to see your head mounted on a pike were too many. In those cases, you needed a friend, someone who would watch your back.

Or they'd stab you from behind.

Those were the odds and Minerva didn't like them. Her metaphorical back had one too many holes in it. So she'd settled for allies, people she trusted, but only so far. Their relationships were built on an understanding of necessity, utility. Any backstabbing and she wouldn't hesitate to eliminate them. She knew they'd do the same to her.

She'd even found the best method for finding said allies.

The sun had risen high in the sky, frost from the morning—the closest thing Pyronia experienced to the fabled snow—long since melted from the immaculate palace grounds. Minerva jogged down the cobbled path, or at least tried. Azuki kept getting underfoot.

"I am going to step on you," she said through mouthfuls of her bean pastry. Her breakfast, though it was well into the afternoon. She figured the hour didn't matter, breakfast could be whatever meal she ate upon waking up.

"If any of my paws are damaged, it shall be avenged upon you tenfold," Azuki threatened, dodging once more between her legs and causing her to stumble. "Especially if it's my favorite paw."

Minerva rolled her eyes but slowed her pace. "Which is your favorite paw?"

"Whichever one you happen to step on," Azuki said smugly. Another of his unnatural wheezing laughs followed.

"And how do you intend to repay? Because I'll repay your repayment by dropping you from the palace roof." Minerva cackled. "We can see whether the myth that kats grow a tail when they lose a life is true."

Azuki growled.

Minerva stepped through the open iron gate that separated imperial property from the military academy. On the other side, two guards in coal-black uniform leaned against the gate's stone pillars, chatting. Not a salute for the former soldier who would possibly command them in the future. Not a bow for the daughter of the Emperor, heir apparent to the Pyro throne.

Minerva preferred it that way. For now.

This time next week, she expected either the sound of their metal greaves hitting the paved stone or the rap of their fist on chest plate.

"I don't like it when you walk hunched over," Azuki whispered.

"Why?" They turned a corner, lifeless grey shrubbery putting them out of the guards' sight. Minerva straightened, though her stride remained hesitant—the walk of an unsure girl rather than a hardened soldier.

"You look like one of those death birds with their scheming, ugly faces." He meant the vultures, with evil talons large enough to pick up kats and carry them away.

"Ugly, scheming faces, Zuzu."

"That's what I—" his speech faltered. "Don't call me that. You know I hate it."

Minerva broke off a piece of her bean bun as a peace offering to soothe his wounded pride. Sniffing it first, he daintily took it in his mouth before gulping it down.

The obsidian stone of the academy gleamed up ahead, an arresting contrast to the white of the Imperial Palace that overshadowed it. The severity of the building's lines, of the grounds, reflected its purpose well. Matsudo had no intention of coddling students, he trained weapons. Warriors.