The morning of the Spring Purification Regatta was annoyingly beautiful. The sky was perfectly clear, and the cherry blossoms were falling like pink snow over the capital.
It was a terrible day for a murder, but a great day for arson.
Akira stood in the center of our bedroom, glaring at the bronze mirror. The Imperial tailors had forced him into the traditional ceremonial robes of the Crown Prince. They were layered, heavy, and completely white and gold.
"You look like a very large, very angry swan," I noted, stepping up to adjust the thick golden sash at his waist.
Akira scowled, looking down at me. "If I try to draw my sword in these sleeves, I will cut my own arm off. I despise this city."
"You don't need your sword today," I reminded him softly, flattening the silk over his broad chest. "You just need to wait for the spark. Yua's uncle swapped the barrels an hour ago. The moment they try to ignite the purification braziers, the whole deck is going up."
