Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The thunderous, rhythmic pounding on her front door woke her before the sun had kissed the sky.

She bolted upright, her heart straining against her ribs like a trapped bird. For a disorienting second, she was fourteen again, in the dark hull of a ship, waiting for them to come for her, for it to be over. But the silk sheets against her skin and the nest of pillows embracing her reminded her she was in Caldera. She was the Grand Advisor. And someone was trying to break down her door.

'A moment! I’m coming,' she called out, her voice thick with sleep.

She stumbled out of bed, her fingers fumbling with the ties of her checkered pink dressing robe. She didn’t bother with a lamp; she knew her rooms by heart. She threw the bolt and pulled the door open, squinting against the harsh light of several lanterns held aloft in the corridor.

The sight that met her was enough to banish any lingering lethargy. Standing at the front was Lady Yan, the Minister of Information, her face pinched in gravity. Beside her stood Captain Rin of the imperial guard, his bearded face equally grim, and Suki, clad in full armour, her face paint stark and ghostly in the flickering orange light.

'Grand Advisor,' Minister Yan began, her voice devoid of its usual diplomatic softness. 'Get dressed. Now.'

Kiyoi didn’t ask why. You didn't see the Captain of the Guard and a Kyoshi Warrior at your door at this hour for a triviality. 'I will.'

She retreated into her room, moving with frantic efficiency. She bypassed her formal robes, reaching instead for the practical trousers and tunic she usually wore around the Outer Palace. Her fingers shook as she pulled on her boots, her mind racing through a list of nightmares. An insurrection? Another assassination attempt? Azula? The New Ozai Society?

She rushed back out, still smoothing her tunic.

The group turned as one, their footsteps echoing loudly on the polished floors as they began a brisk, punishing pace toward the Inner Palace. The air felt charged, heavy with the sort of silence that precedes a storm.

'What has happened?' Kiyoi asked, her voice low. ‘Who was it this time?’

They reached the threshold of the Inner Palace, the transition from the administrative sector to the royal residence marked by more guards, all of them standing with a terrifying, rigid alertness. Minister Yan stopped abruptly and turned to face Kiyoi.

'Grand Advisor,' Yan began, her voice trembling slightly for the first time. 'As of this moment, by the laws of emergency succession, you are Fire Lord Regent.'

Kiyoi stopped dead. The morning air suddenly felt like ice. Her breath hitched, and a hot, stinging prickle of tears surged behind her eyes.

'Zuko...' she whispered, the name a jagged piece of glass in her throat. Her mind spiralled instantly into the dark. He’s gone. I wasn't there. I was sleeping while he—I should have seen the threat. I’m his advisor, his friend, and I failed him. 'Is he... is he dead?'

'He’s not!' Captain Rin and Suki barked in unison, their voices sharp with a desperate kind of certainty.

Kiyoi tilted her head, her brow furrowing in confusion. The relief was a physical immediate, but it was quickly replaced by a cold, gnawing dread. If he wasn't dead, why was she the Regent?

Minister Yan hung her head, unable to meet Kiyoi’s dark irises. 'Grand Advisor... the Fire Lord is missing. We have reason to believe he has been kidnapped.'

'He didn't return to his chambers tonight,' Captain Rin explained, his voice tight.

Kiyoi almost scoffed. ‘That is not unusual?’ she prompted.

Zuko, much to the chagrin of his guards, rarely slept where he was supposed to. When he was with Mai, he quite often was at her house. Now he seemed to make it his job to test out every surface of the palace. She had talked to him about this and found he felt similarly to her; his bed was too vast after the years of modest futons, of bedrolls under stars and scratchy straw stuffed mattresses. But since she had impressed upon him her concerns about his security after finding him under a table in the outer palace kitchen, he had at least made an effort to sleep within the Royal Apartments or his Office. Though he argued that more often than not, sleeping where he wasn’t supposed to had saved his life. Annoyingly, he had a point; but she would never admit it.

'No, it isn’t unusual, Lady Ben Kuzo. At first, the sentries didn't raise the alarm, but began checking his usual spots: his desk, the window seat in the solar, the tea lounge.'

'We’ve conducted a full search of the Inner Palace, we were… we were hoping perhaps he was with you…' Suki added, then cleared her throat, her jaw set. 'But we’ve searched every room, every balcony. He wasn't anywhere. We retraced his movements to Heronpike Pavilion this afternoon. And the guards there were under the impression he was still inside the walled garden; he hadn’t come out. So we searched the gardens and pavilion, and we called off the search because...' Suki trailed off, her own voice struggling to deliver the news.

Minister Yan stepped closer, her voice dropping to a low hiss. 'There was a note.'

Kiyoi’s eyes widened, her heart skipping a beat. 'A note? A ransom note?'

Yan nodded slowly. 'It’s cryptic. My best cryptographers are working on it as we speak, trying to discern the hand or the origin, but the message is... unsettling. There were no signs of a struggle, and the guards heard nothing.’

A kidnapping in the heart of the palace without a single drop of blood spilt suggested a terrifying level of skill—or an inside job. She forced her mind to stop spiralling and sharpened her focus.

'Who else knows of this?' she demanded, trying to muster the authoritative edge her father had once used as Governor. 'It is imperative we keep this quiet. If word gets out that the Fire Lord has been snatched from his own gardens, there will be panic in the streets and our enemies will use the opportunity to strike.'

'Only the highest levels of the Palace Guard and the Kyoshi Warriors,' Yan assured her. 'The servants have been told the Fire Lord is in a closed meditative retreat and is not to be disturbed.'

Kiyoi’s face darkened as a thought struck her. She looked at Yan, her gaze piercing. 'So no one has informed the Fire Lady Mother? Or the Princess?'

The Minister of Information shook her head solemnly. 'No. Not yet. We felt it best to ensure the stability of the crown before breaking the news to the family.'

'Then that falls to me,' Kiyoi let out a shaky breath. 'But first, show me the note. I want to see what they dared to leave in place of him.'

While the palace in Caldera descended into a controlled fever of panic, the atmosphere on the deck of the manatee-whale ferry was considerably more relaxed. The rhythmic, low thrum of the creature’s songs vibrated through the hull, a soothing melody with the tide.

Zuko stood at the railing, the salt spray misting his face. He looked back toward the disappearing silhouette of the Fire Nation mainland, a nagging knot of guilt tightening in his chest.

'Toph,' he said, turning toward the girl lounging on the seat behind him. 'Are you absolutely certain you cleared this with Kiyoi?'

Toph didn’t even open her eyes. She leaned back, her feet propped up on the seat in front of her, arms folded behind her head. She let out a dry snort.

'Absolutely. And as extra, officialness, I left a note,' she announced proudly. 'Relax, Sparky.'

Zuko let out a long breath, in relief. He supposed it must be alright. If his Grand Advisor had given the okay for him to slip away for a few days, then the bureaucracy wouldn't crumble in his absence. Kiyoi usually accounted for every variable; if she’d sanctioned this, he could enjoy himself.

'Okay...' he muttered, though he still couldn’t be entirely convinced. 'But I still don't know why you didn't ask Aang or Sokka to help you with this. If you needed a hand, they'd—'

'Because,' Toph cut him off, waving a dismissive hand in the air, 'I need someone who understands hoity-toity rich person behaviour, and I need someone stealthy. You fit the bill.'

She sat up slightly, picking her nose with a look of supreme indifference. 'The only person I know stealthier than you is Suki, and let’s be honest—she can’t act "rich" to save her life. You and I, on the other hand, were born into the fancy-pants stuff.'

Zuko leaned back against the railing, crossing his arms as he watch Toph and her appalling manners. 'Sure, I guess?'

'You Guess? Sorry Your Majesty, I suppose fancy-pants was too insulting a word to use in front of such a highborn as yourself,’ Toph teased and lounged back again. 'Besides, you owe me a life-changing field trip. I’m just finally cashing in the chips.'

Zuko huffed, a small, involuntary smile tugging at the corner of his mouth despite himself. 'I just hope Kiyoi isn't too overwhelmed. I should have spoken to her myself instead of letting you handle the logistics.'

Toph let out a loud, barking laugh. 'Don’t even bother trying to lie, Sparky. Your heart is thumping like a happy little drum. You’re enjoying yourself. You’re absolutely thrilled to be rescued from that mountain of paperwork.'

Zuko opened his mouth to protest, to defend his dedication to his royal duties, but he caught the scent of the open ocean and felt the absence of the stifling eyes of guards and servants. He heard the breeze and the birds and the manatee whales around him instead of the harried footsteps of ministers, clerks, and Fire Sages hunting him through the palace. He closed his mouth and looked back at the horizon, the guilt still there, but buried under a burgeoning, traitorous sense of freedom.

He leaned his elbows on the railing, the wind whipping his dark hair. 'So, what made you come to Ember Island, anyway? You don't strike me as the beach-holidaying type. You usually hate the sand.'

'Ugh, I do. It’s worse than wearing shoes,' Toph grimaced. Then, she flashed a sharp, toothy grin. 'But this isn't a holiday. It’s a business retreat.'

Zuko stared at her, blinked, and stared some more. 'A... business retreat?'

'I’m taking the opportunity to network with my dad’s old business partners. I need to get sponsors for my school,' she explained. She began fishing around in the pocket of her tunic. ‘Ta da!’ she announced, pulling out a stiff piece of card, though it was upside down. 'It’s back-to-front, isn't it?'

Zuko took the card, turning it the right way up to read the elegant calligraphy. 'Toph Beifong, Greatest Earthbender in the World, Master Metalbender, and Security Consultant?'

Toph nodded proudly, oblivious to his bewildered expression. 'Turns out metalbending is pretty useful to a lot of people. Rich people want their stuff protected. If I can promise to train a personal metalbender for their security team or vault guard…’ she paused the smirk on her face growing as she rubbed her hands together and chuckled, ‘they’re going to want to practically throw money at me and my school. Mwahha-ha-ha-ha!'

Zuko’s face dropped. He looked from the card back to the girl who was currently cackling maniacally. 'So... this is a scam? You want me to steal something from an auction to prove this rich dude has a flaw in his security just so you can drum up business?'

'Pssshh, noooo,' Toph waved her hand dismissively, though her grin didn't falter. 'That’s not the only reason.'

'Toph...'

'The main reason is that the guy is evil, and I want to steal from him,' she said, her voice dropping into a more serious, conspiratorial tone. 'Look he has something he shouldn't. Something that shouldn’t belong to anybody. Trust me, you’re going to want to steal from him once you meet him. And since you're the Blue Spirit—the best thief I know—And the Fire Lord who can also speak the language of the snobs, you’re my way in.'

‘I don’t think “best thief I know” is as good a compliment as you think it is.’ Zuko rubbed his temples. He could already imagine the look on Kiyoi’s face—the way she would pinch the bridge of her nose and give him that silent, disappointed stare that was worse than any lecture.

‘Ah, so you are the Blue Spirit then?’ Toph grinned wickedly. ‘I knew it! The way you reacted to that scene in the play was too awkward to be a coincidence.’

Zuko groaned and hung his head. ‘I walked right into that one, didn’t I?’

‘Yeah, you did.’ Toph laughed.

The brazier in the war room hissed, erratic shadows strobed across the table where the ransom note lay. Around it, a handful of cryptographers and archaeologists—rushed from their beds and still clad in mismatched pyjamas and dressing gowns—hovered with frantic intensity. They had all been sworn to absolute secrecy on pain of treason.

Kiyoi leaned over the parchment, her eyes narrowed. The handwriting was atrocious—shaky, uneven, and devoid of the elegant brushstrokes one would expect from a kidnapper of this calibre.

'It says...' Kiyoi began, her voice strained as she squinted at the scratchy ink. 'Borrowed him for a business meeting. In two sundowns you can have him back.'

Her gaze drifted to the drawings below the text. They were primitive, almost childlike. There was a series of jagged waves, a crude frowning face, a bag with a currency symbol, and most baffling of all, a circular object covered in sharp, radiating spikes.

'The spiked ball reminds me of a sea mine,' Captain Rin suggested.

Kiyoi felt a cold lump of lead settle in her stomach. She stared at the spiked circle. To any normal observer, it was a mace or a durian fruit. But to Kiyoi, it was a dagger to the heart.

'Sea urchin,' she whispered, her face going pale.

'Is that significant, Kiyoi?' Suki prompted, stepping closer.

'Azula,' Kiyoi uttered like quiet curse. 'It’s a sea urchin, only Azula calls me that. These drawings are clearly from a disturbed mind, and who else could navigate the palace with such ease? She’s done it before. Azula has him.'

A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the room. The Princess had been quiet for months, her splintered cells of loyalists failing to sow any meaningful discord, but the idea of her being co-ordinated enough to snatch the Fire Lord from his own garden without them first receiving the intelligence that she was even on the mainland was a terrifying prospect.

'She’s demanding a ransom,' Minister Yan noted, pointing to the bag of money. 'The waves and the frowning face... she wants the exchange at the docks and she’s requesting you specifically, Regent. But how much money, does she even want money? She never specifies an amount.’

Kiyoi straightened up, her pragmatic mind fighting through the fog of panic. 'It doesn’t make sense. Azula doesn’t want money. She wants the throne. She wants power. A ransom is too... small. This is a trap. She’s using Zuko as bait as a statement.'

She turned to Minister Yan, her expression hardening into the mask of the Grand Advisor.

'We can’t let her have the advantage of setting the stage for whatever she is planning. We need to locate Azula and where she is keeping him before the exchange in two days. Minister, if she is in the city, I want her found.' She paused, her mind racing. 'If you are amenable, I have an unorthodox method to get us more discreet eyes out there.'

Yan arched an eyebrow. 'I am listening.'

'Summon my chief aide Zumi, and Kitsu of 17 Heronpike Lane,' Kiyoi commanded. 'Tell Kitsu to bring her best researchers.'

Yan’s brow furrowed, but she simply bowed. 'It shall be done.'

'In the meantime,' Kiyoi turned to Suki, 'I want the royal family’s guard doubled. No one goes in or out of the Royal Apartments without your personal clearance. I... I will break the news to Lady Ursa myself.' She swallowed hard, dreading that conversation more than a battle.

'And Rin,' she looked to the Captain of the Guard, 'I want every spare man combing the palace catacombs and hidden passages. Azula knows this palace better than any of us. It’s possible she hasn't even left the grounds. She could be holding the Fire Lord right under our feet. Involve the Royal Sages if you must; they have the oldest maps of the foundations.' Kiyoi gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white. 'We have two sundowns to bring him home. You are dismissed.'

The walk to the royal apartments felt longer than any journey Kiyoi had ever taken. The golden sun-filigree on the walls now seemed to mock her with its brightness and warmth as the first rays of dawn began to bleed through the windows. Every palace servant she passed bowed their head slightly, unaware that the woman before them was no longer just the Grand Advisor, but the acting sovereign of the nation.

Kiyoi paused before the double doors of the suite shared by Lady Ursa and Consort Ikem. Her hands, were trembling as she gripped her own tunic and nodded to the Kyoshi Warriors guarding the entrance. They rapped the brass knocker and stepped aside in silence, their painted faces unreadable.

Inside, the scent of lotus and tea hung in the air. The apartment was a sanctuary of soft silks and quiet corners, a world away from the flaming throne and the stark war room. Ikem was already awake, seated at a low table near the balcony, pouring tea. He looked up, his gentle face etching with immediate concern at the sight of her.

'Kiyoi?' he asked, rising slowly. 'It’s barely dawn. Has something happened?'

Ursa emerged from the bed chamber, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders. She looked at Kiyoi, and the mother’s intuition flared behind her eyes. She didn't wait for a greeting. She didn't ask what had happened.

'Kiyoi, where is my son?' Ursa asked, her voice a fragile whisper that cut through the room.

Kiyoi bowed, her head low to hide the shimmer of moisture in her eyes. 'Lady Ursa. Ikem. I... I have news that requires your strength.' She straightened, forcing herself to maintain the composure expected of a regent. 'The Fire Lord did not return to his chambers last night. We have searched the grounds. He was last seen in the Heronpike Pavilion.'

Ursa swayed, her hand flying to her throat. Ikem was at her side in an instant, steadying her with a firm arm around her waist. 'Missing?' Ikem echoed, his voice gruff. 'How can the Fire Lord simply go missing from the heart of the Palace?'

'We found a note,' Kiyoi said, each word feeling like a betrayal. 'It’s... it’s cryptic, but we have reason to suspect Azula has taken him.'

Ursa’s breath hitched. She knew her children’s history better than anyone. 'Azula?' she breathed, the name sounding like a prayer and a curse all at once.

'We believe so,' Kiyoi confirmed dismally. 'The note demands a ransom and suggests a meeting at the docks in two days' time. I have been named Regent to ensure the government remains functional, and I have every available soldier, Sage, and informant scouring the city.' Kiyoi stepped forward, reaching out to take Ursa’s cold hand. 'I promise you, on my life and honour, I will bring him back, Lady Ursa. I will find him.'

'Keep your head up, Sparky,' Toph chirped, her bare feet slapping rhythmically against the wooden slats of the pier. 'You’re supposed to be the most important person in the world. I can feel you trying to hide. Stop slouching.'

'I’m not slouching,' Zuko muttered, though he instinctively straightened his spine. He wasn't wearing his formal robes, but his crown was still perched in his hair, his day clothes—a high-quality embroidered shirt of crimson silk—and the way he carried himself marked him for all beachgoers to see. 'I just feel... exposed. We’re not in disguise, Toph. If word gets back to Caldera that I’m eating breakfast on a beach while Kiyoi’s doing all my paperwork—'

'Kiyoi thinks you’re doing exactly what you need to be doing, I left it in the note that we were coming here for an auction,' Toph dismissed him easily, waving a hand toward a sprawling, tiered resort that overlooked Azure Bay. 'Now, shut up and look expensive. We have a target to bait.'

The resort was an opulent display, all sweeping eaves and open-air terraces shaded by broad-leafed palms. As they ascended the carved stone steps, the chatter of the wealthy vacationers died down to a dull hum. Necks craned. Whispers rippled through the breakfast crowd like wind through tall grass.

‘Is that…?’

‘It can’t be.’

‘The Fire Lord? Here?’

Toph didn’t give the shaking hostess a chance to speak. 'Table for two. Somewhere central. And make sure the tea is actually hot; I don’t want to drink lukewarm leaf-water. Put it on the Beifong account, I’ve got this one, old boy.' She whacked Zuko’s arm and grinned up at him.

He was too stunned to even scowl.

The staff scurried to accommodate them. They were seated at a prime circular table on the veranda, overlooking Azure Bay. Within minutes, a spread of spiced turtle duck eggs, glazed komodo-sausage,seasoned rice, red broth and fresh star-fruit was laid before them.

Zuko picked up his chopsticks, feeling the weight of fifty pairs of eyes on him. 'You’re sure this is going to work?'

'Positive,' Toph said and motioned for him to place her chopsticks in her hand. 'Rich people are like buzzards. They see someone with more status than them and they start circling. But they keep a distance.’

Zuko placed the silverware in her hand and pushed her plate closer to her. She ran the chopsticks over her plate, gathering a cartographic view of it, before deciding to pick up the sliced komodo sausage. ‘The guy who runs the auction tonight, Kuon, he won’t keep his distance. He’s the biggest buzzard of them all. He’s obsessed with prestige. He has the gall. If the Fire Lord is enjoying his hospitality, he’ll only care about getting you to be at his auction hall; the jingle of the crown’s coin will blind him to etiquette.'

Zuko sipped his broth thoughtfully. ‘Is he here to take the bait though?’

Toph went still, her feet flat on the floor. Then she smiled, ‘Right on cue.’ She nodded behind him to a portly man in an eye-wateringly expensive robe.

He detached himself from a group of merchants and began to glide toward their table.

'Your Majesty, Fire Lord Zuko, welcome to Cinnabar Sands. You honour me by gracing my humble establishment' the man purred, bowing so low his forehead nearly touched the edge of the table. 'What an unexpected, and fortuitous meeting. We had heard the Court was in the height of its Council Season.'

Zuko reached for his tea a waiter silently deposited on the table, his face shifting into the cool, slightly bored mask his sister had perfected. He remembered his lessons from his tutor, and even the sharper ones from his father—how to look through someone as if they were made of glass.

'The palace is always in a state of something or other,' Zuko said flippantly, his voice carrying just enough to reach the surrounding tables. 'I found the atmosphere in Caldera becoming rather… stifling. My dear friend Miss Beifong, offered me the excuse for a change of scenery,' he gestured to Toph, who was currently smiling sweetly in the vague direction of Kuon. 'She insisted that this was the only place to find a decent breakfast.'

'Indeed, indeed!' the man, Kuon, chuckled nervously. 'I am Kuon, a humble facilitator of the arts and proprietor of this resort. It is serendipitous that you are here, Your Majesty. This very evening, I am hosting a private auction of… rare collector’s items and artefacts. Items that even the Royal Collection might envy. I have hear whispers of a fondness for Water Tribe curios?' Kuon inclined his head knowingly.

Zuko let out a soft, non-committal hum. He didn't look at the man, he watched a pigeon-hawk circle above the bay. 'I hadn’t planned on any formal engagements, but...' he paused, tilting his head just a fraction, 'if the items are truly as significant as you claim, I might find the time to attend.’

The whispers were true. He did often acquire any artefacts he encountered; only to send them back to where they belonged in his friends’ luggage after their visits.

Kuon’s eyes lit up with predatory glee. 'I assure you, Fire Lord, it will be the highlight of you excursion! I shall have the invitations hand-delivered to Miss Beifong’s suite immediately.'

As Kuon scurried away to spread the word that the Fire Lord was his guest of honour, Toph kicked Zuko’s shin under the table.

'And we’re in. Nice work, Sparky,' she grinned. 'You sounded so stuck-up, I almost wanted to earthbend you into the fountain.'

Zuko winced, rubbing his leg. 'I just hope this is worth it, Toph. Because if Kiyoi finds out shirked my duties to have a fancy breakfast at a beach resort and sit at an auction while she’s holding the nation together, there won’t be enough of me left for a funeral.'

'Well, that’s a bit dramatic,' Toph laughed, grabbing an egg from her plate. 'You’re the Fire Lord. What’s old Fusspot going to do? Put you in time-out?'

Zuko thought of Kiyoi’s cold, silent stare—the way she could make a man feel two inches tall with a single lifted eyebrow. 'You have no idea,' he muttered.

Toph leaned forward, her elbows planted firmly on the table as she sensed a delicious opportunity to needle the Fire Lord. 'Oh, come on, Sparky. You’re the big, bad Fire Lord, and you’re sweating over her theoretical reaction?'

'You know exactly what I’m talking about, Toph. She’s... formidable.'

'Formidable, huh?' Toph grinned, her milky eyes fixed somewhere in the direction of his chin, no doubt listening to the rhythmic drumming that told her more than his words ever could. 'Is that what you call it? It sounds like you’re terrified of your own Grand Advisor.'

'It’s not fear, it’s respect,' Zuko insisted, though his grip on his teacup was perhaps a bit too firm. 'Kiyoi has a way of... looking at you. Like she’s disappointed not just in what you did, but in the fact that you weren't smart enough to avoid doing it.'

Toph cackled, a sharp sound that made a nearby nobleman jump. 'So what? Does she make you stand in the corner? Does she take away your desert privileges for a week?' She lowered her voice, a wicked glint in her eyes. 'Or maybe the real reason you keep bringing her up every five minutes. Maybe you like getting under her skin. Maybe you like having her undivided, fiery attention focused entirely on you, even if she’s scolding you.'

Zuko choked on his tea, a sputtering mess of crimson silk and coughing. 'I—what? Toph, that’s—she’s my Advisor! My friend!'

'And your heart just did a backflip, Sparky,' Toph teased, pointing a finger at his chest. 'You can’t lie to me. Your blood is rushing so loud I can practically hear it from across the table. You’re imagining it right now, aren’t you? Returning to the palace, her standing there with her arms crossed, calling you irresponsible in that posh voice of hers...'

Zuko went a shade of red that rivalled his tunic. He thought of Kiyoi—the way her long, wavy hair swayed with her when she would turn to look at him, the way she spoke with such quiet, unwavering elegance, and the terrifying, magnetic pull of her, even when her face was radiating disapproval.

'She wouldn’t just call me irresponsible,' Zuko muttered, looking away toward the ocean. 'She’d use words I have to look up in a dictionary later.'

'And you’d love every second of it,' Toph finished for him, picking up a star-fruit slice and tossing it into her mouth. ‘So let’s make this field trip worthwhile, since you convinced this will end in your funeral, eat up, this is a bottomless breakfast, you know. We haven’t even got to the pastries yet!’

The heavy bronze doors of the tactical room clicked shut, sealing the four women and a handful of shadows inside. Kiyoi stood at the head of the dark mahogany table, her spine a rigid line of Fire Nation decorum.

Beside her, Zumi—once a spy for her aunt, now her most loyal shadow—was arranging ink pots with a precision that bordered on the obsessive. For a moment, Kiyoi’s mind drifted back to the year of her self-imposed exile in the Southern Isles. She had left the palace a broken woman, reeling from the discovery that her Aunt Riza had tried to turn her into a pawn of the flesh trade and a tool for power, using affection as a bludgeon.

Returning not only as the recognised heir of Tarz Ben Kuzo, but the Szeto heiress, had changed everything. Now that Riza’s assets were confiscated and her mother’s stolen inheritance was returned to her, she had to sift through the wreckage left behind: the women and men cast out with nowhere to go—the homeless, the 'unemployable', the broken.

In the weeks after Lady Ursa’s return, she remembered Zumi, standing in the rain outside her office, both cursing and begging her, homeless and destitute because Kiyoi’s "justice" had inadvertently destroyed the only livelihood Riza’s victims had. Zumi had been a spy, yes, but a spy forged by desperation. Kiyoi didn’t see a traitor or criminal; she saw her own failure to look closer. She wouldn’t make that mistake again. She had spent two years trying to atone for crimes she didn’t commit, but was responsible for.

Turning the Silk Wasp from a house of exploitation into a sanctuary of education had been her greatest act of rebellion. And spending every coin her aunt had profited on giving Riza’s victims every small freedom and comfort Kiyoi could think of was the most satisfying revenge.

'Minister, may I introduce Kitsu, my business partner and director of the Caldera Women’s Trade School, and her associates. Thank you for coming on such short notice,' Kiyoi said, turning to the woman standing beside a small group of unconventional guests.

Yan stood stiffly, her arms crossed over her crimson robes, her eyes darting between the eclectic group. The guests shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny.

'Minister Yan, I present some of the finest minds in the Fire Nation, who will be our eyes and ears.' She introduced them with a deliberate, slow dignity:

'Peony,' Kiyoi gestured to the woman in vibrant, thin silks. 'Whose intuition and bravery is unmatched. I owe her my life.' Peony bowed, though her painted face remained lowered, the weight of her self-imposed exile from “respectable” society still visible in the slump of her shoulders.

Kiyoi turned, then felt a pang of old guilt as her eyes met Keizan’s. She remembered finding out a year later he bore scars from when Riza had punished his failure—from when she had been too wise for her aunt’s tactics.

'This is Keizan,’ she continued. The handsome man bowed deeply. ‘He hears the whispers of the court ladies—the grief of mothers whose "ill-minded" and “troubled” daughters sent to the same types of institutions that failed Princess Azula and birthed her loyalists.’

‘Lilly,' she gestured to the young woman next to him who offered a practiced smile, 'has seen the inside of those walls. She knows the faces of the women Azula is likely recruiting—not the insane, Minister, but the enraged and the forgotten.'

'And Sparrowkeet,' Kiyoi concluded, nodding to the lithe dancer making herself small in the room. 'Whose grace and movement are unmatched. She has mastered both being a spectacle and being invisible.’

Yan’s face was a mask of shock. 'Grand Advisor... these are... civilians. Worse, they are associates of Riza Szeto. You are asking the Ministry of Information to share state secrets with... with entertainers—'

'—the people who have already proven to me they are capable and loyal, without asking for a copper in return?' Kiyoi interrupted, her voice gaining a sharp, authoritative edge. 'Minister, As—‘ she bit off the title of “Regent” in front of her guests. ‘… a woman of my current station, I am telling you that these people have an aptitude for intelligence and skills that your traditional scouts lack. Yes, they are not guards or trained operatives, Minister. They are survivors… And they are eyes where the Palace Guard is too heavy-footed to walk.'

'And I want you to provide Kitsu and her associates with every piece of intelligence the Ministry has regarding Princess Azula, her known splinter cells. Every report, every vague sighting, and everything.' Kiyoi commanded.

A collective intake of breath hissed through the room. Kitsu’s eyebrows shot up, while the others exchanged stunned glances. She turned to the small group in front of her.

'If you are willing, I have a task to ask of you, but for your own safety,' Kiyoi added, looking directly at Kitsu, 'I cannot disclose the specific nature of why we need this information. You must trust that the need is dire, and the timeline is short. I want you to go through what we have and make connections with what you have observed and heard rumoured, to help us locate Princess Azula.'

Minister Yan’s face went from shock to a pale, stony mask. She stepped forward, her hand twitching toward the sleeve of her robe. 'A word, Grand Advisor. In private. Now.'

Kiyoi nodded to Zumi, who stepped forward to offer the guests tea to keep them occupied. Kiyoi followed Yan into the recessed alcove of a bay window, where the heavy velvet curtains offered a small pocket of privacy.

'This is beyond unorthodox, Lady Kiyoi,' Yan hissed, her voice trembling with suppressed rage. 'This is dangerous. You have a private intelligence network operating under the nose of the Ministry of Information? If I did not know your heart—if I did not trust your loyalty to the throne—I would be forced to report this as treason. Do you know how this looks? If the court finds out—'

‘The court will find out only if you fail to do your job, Minister,’ Kiyoi interrupted. ‘And as for unorthodoxy? I find it far more unorthodox that the Fire Lord has been taken from his own palace while your trained operatives weren’t aware the most wanted person in the Fire Nation made our shores.’

Kiyoi didn't flinch as she met Yan’s gaze with unyielding stillness. ‘And a correction to your statement: they are not in my employ, Minister. I do not have an intelligence network, not in the way you mean.'

She glanced back at the group. 'Lilly is the only one I’ve tasked with anything, and even then, it was through the Caldera Women’s Society. We sent her undercover to investigate the institutions—to look into malpractice and the abuse of women who have no voice.

‘Any other information I have received has been volunteered. Information they have come across in their professions—in the teahouses, the dance halls, the private estates—and they chose to bring it to Kitsu, and Kitsu brought it to me. And they do it because they are loyal, because they want a nation where the bastards, spares, and outcasts aren't sold to the highest bidder anymore. They want Zuko on the throne because he supports the schools and clinics we’ve built, and they see he is just and fair. Peony is the reason we are even aware of the New Ozai Society, and I am still alive today.’

'That woman in gauzy silks… was the tip?' Yan asked, her eyes narrowing.

'Peony,’ Kiyoi corrected. ‘was entertaining a wealthy merchant regularly. One night, she overheard him boasting of his ties to the New Ozai Society and involvement in something big for the Grand Advisor. Most would have said nothing, forgotten it. Instead, she stayed. She worked her way into the inner circle, risking everything to investigate on her own because they spoke of harming me. While your Ministry was monitoring the New Ozai Society trying to decide if it was a threat, she was in their beds, listening to their boasts, risking her life to learn everything she could about my would-be assassins. She gave us the names of every conspirator and asked for nothing but anonymity.'

Kiyoi’s expression softened with a trace of sadness. 'When I tried to repay her. She refused. She told me she "wasn't good for anything else." She truly believes her worth ended when her innocence did.'

Yan went quiet, her gaze drifting back to the woman in the vibrant silks. The Minister of Information was a woman who valued results above all else, and the thwarting of the New Ozai plot had been one of the Ministry's biggest embarrassments—and greatest reliefs.

Kiyoi continued, 'They are people who see the world's gears turning because they have had to survive its motion. They have an aptitude for the truth that your Ministry lacks because they do not have the luxury of looking away. These are people who I know have skills. What they lack is the official sanction to feel that their lives have a purpose beyond the one my aunt gave them. I want to prove them wrong. If they find the Princess when your best have failed, you will not only acknowledge their service—you will offer them official positions within your Ministry.’

Yan stared at her, stunned. ‘You want me to employ them?’

‘I want you to recognise their aptitude,’ Kiyoi said, her voice gaining a sharp, authoritative edge. ‘If you want to protect this nation, you cannot afford to be blind to talent, wherever it exists.’

She leaned in, her voice dropping to a low, lethal whisper that made Yan’s breath hitch. ‘The Fire Lord is missing. I will do whatever it takes to bring him home, and I will use every resource—unorthodox or otherwise—to ensure this nation remains stable. If that means dragging your clerks into a room with "Entertainers", then that is exactly what will happen.’

Kiyoi pulled back, her composure returning to a mask of perfect, cold Fire Nation decorum. ‘Order your clerks to bring the dossiers. All of them. And tell them to give these consultants whatever they require.

‘And if a leak leaves this room?’ Yan asked quietly. ‘I cannot protect you from the Council if this goes wrong.’

‘If a leak leaves this room, Minister, the Council will be the least of your worries,’ Kiyoi promised, her expression smoothing into a mask of lethal decorum. ‘Because if the Fire Lord is not found, there won't be a Council left to complain.’

Yan looked at the young woman before her—the wise and gentle voice of reason, the reserved young woman at the Fire Lord’s Right Hand—and realised for the first time why her enemies feared her, why they called her Serpent.

‘As you command, My Lady,’ Yan whispered.

A sharp, rhythmic rapping at the heavy bronze doors broke the stifling silence of the tactical room. Captain Rin didn’t wait for an invitation.

'Grand Advisor,' he said, his voice taut. 'We have found something. Signs of occupation in the lower levels.'

Kiyoi felt a jolt of adrenaline run through her. She turned to Kitsu and the others, her expression hardening into a mask of command. 'Stay here. Go through every scrap of parchment the Ministry provides. If Azula so much as breathed on the mainland, I want to know about it. If you require any refreshments or meals, don’t be afraid to ask.'

Then, she followed Rin out into the corridor, her strides long and purposeful.

'Heronpike Pavilion,' Rin began as they descended a winding stone staircase toward the palace foundations. 'It was built for the Fire Lord’s total privacy. A walled garden—one way in, one way out. The sentries swore no one passed the gates.'

'In truth, Rin, we cannot assume anywhere is completely secure,' Kiyoi countered, her voice low and clipped. 'Not after we have been proven wrong on multiple occasions. If the walls cannot be breached, then the flaw lies elsewhere.'

'That is what we suspect,' Rin admitted, his jaw tight. 'There were no scuff marks on the walls, no snapped branches in the treeline. It is possible... an earthbender took him.'

Kiyoi stopped for a heartbeat, her mind racing. It was the missing piece that made her blood run cold.

'It fits,' she whispered. 'She commanded the Dai Li before, Azula has no problem working with Earthbenders. Azula’s inner circle has always been composed of daughters from the high-born families who had been cast out of their families—if a girl was from the old colonies and happened to inherit the ability of bending, but of the wrong element, that very well could constitute a daughter being locked away as an embarrassment to her family.’ She confirmed grimly, knowing it was a fate she had been lucky to be spared from.

They reached a guardhouse near Heronpike’s walls. ‘Well, the Sages found this.’ Rin stepped toward a section of the wall where the masonry looked slightly discoloured, the mortar a shade darker than the rest. He didn't use a key; he let out a short, concentrated burst of flame from his palm. The heat caused the mechanism behind the stone to groan and click.

With a heavy rumble, a section of the wall slid back, revealing a yawning tunnel that smelled of ancient dust.

Inside, the passage was alive with the flickering orange light of torches. Guards moved like ghosts through the gloom, their voices echoing in the narrow space.

'We have searched this tunnel and found it leads toward the outer palace walls,' Rin explained, gesturing to the other direction. 'Or further into the Inner Palace gates. It was built centuries ago, before the outer palace existed to hide guard changes—to keep the true number of the Fire Lord’s protectors a secret from prying eyes.'

Kiyoi stepped into the darkness, marvelling at the ancient, precise stonework. 'A secret kept too well,' she murmured.

Rin stopped near a section of the floor where the uniform stones gave way to a mess of jagged rock and loose soil. 'Here,' he said, pointing to the debris. 'The rubble is fresh. It wasn't cleared by hand; the fractures are too clean. It was moved with bending, Lady Kiyoi. A tunnel was opened here, directly beneath the pavilion, and backfilled once they had him.'

'And the signs of life?' Kiyoi asked, her heart hammering against her ribs. 'You said someone has been living here.'

Rin gestured further down the passage to a small, arched alcove. Once, it might have been a small armoury; rusted iron hooks still clung to the walls where spears had hung decades ago. Now, it looked like a parody of a bedroom.

Gathered on the floor was a collection of items that made Kiyoi’s stomach churn. There were several brass lanterns, an empty teapot with a set of matching cups, and a pile of plush cushions. But it was the bed that caught her eye—a futon made of heavy, high-quality silk sheets.

Kiyoi knelt, her fingers brushing the fabric. The pattern was unmistakable.

'These are from the Outer Palace,' she whispered, her voice trembling with a new, intimate kind of terror. 'These are common items from the ministerial apartments...' the same sheets she owned, the same cushions that sat on her couch.

She stood up, her eyes wide as she stared into the dark recesses of the tunnel. She’s been biding her time. She’s been down here, right under our feet, watching us? Close enough to steal items from the apartments without being noticed—probably haunting us for weeks.'

The thought that Azula—disturbed, vengeful, and silent—had been living like a ghost beneath the floorboards while Kiyoi slept safely above was almost too much to bear.

The heavy silence of the tunnel was shattered by a cacophony of scraping boots and a sharp, feminine shriek echoing from the direction of the Outer Palace. Kiyoi didn't hesitate; she bolted toward the sound, Captain Rin’s heavy tread thundering behind her.

They skidded into a pool of lantern light where two guards were struggling to restrain a young woman. She was dressed in a fine, though now stained, dress. Her dark hair coming loose from an elaborate arrangement of gold pins. In the scuffle, a porcelain tea flask had shattered against the stone, and a bundle of fresh tea leaves lay trampled in the dust.

Kiyoi’s brow furrowed as the girl looked up. 'Lady Sanya Mazu?'

She was the daughter of Lord Mazu, a prominent statesman in the Bureau of Infrastructure. Sanya had always been the picture of poise at court functions, but here, in the bowels of the earth, she looked like a cornered animal. She met Kiyoi’s gaze with a defiant, haughty tilt of her chin, her lips pressed into a bloodless line.

'Explain yourself, Sanya,' Kiyoi commanded, her voice echoing with cold authority. 'Why are you in a restricted military passage at this hour, carrying provisions for a fugitive?'

Sanya remained silent, but her brow pinched and her eyes darted toward the darkness of the tunnel toward the Inner Palace end.

'If you are silent out of fear for what Princess Azula will do to you, I promise you that I am a far more immediate concern,' Kiyoi hissed, her patience fraying. The image of the empty pavilion and the cryptic note flashed in her mind. 'You know your way down here. You brought tea and comfort for someone. You are sheltering a kidnapper, Sanya. Tell me where she is now!'

'I don't know! I know nothing about the Princess or fugitive' Sanya finally burst out, her voice cracking. 'I haven't done anything wrong! You have no right! Do you know who my father is, he won’t stand for this!'

'Your father can visit you in prison and attempt to talk some sense into you,' Kiyoi replied, her heart hardening. She could not afford mercy when Zuko’s life was in the balance. 'Guards, take her.'

The haughtiness disappeared. ‘No, no, no, I didn’t do anything, please!’

‘Then give me an explaination Lady Sanya, why are you here?’ Kiyoi demanded.

Sanya shook her head and cried.

Kiyoi nodded to the guard and they continued to drag Sanya away as she struggled. ‘This is a mistake, please I can’t go to prison! I didn’t do anything, don’t tell my father please, NO! NO! PLEASE,’ she screamed.

As the guards began to drag the sobbing girl away, a frantic shout erupted from the opposite end of the tunnel.

‘Sanya!’ A young guard, his helmet askew and his face pale with terror, came sprinting down the tunnel. 'Wait! Lady Kiyoi, please, wait!' he cried out, throwing himself into a slide at her feet. 'She’s innocent! I beg of you, let her go!'

Kiyoi looked down at the guard—he couldn't have been over 19. 'Interfering with the arrest of a suspected traitor is a capital offence, soldier. You had better have a very compelling reason for this outburst.'

'Please,' he gasped, his eyes pleading. 'May I... may I speak with you in private, My Lady?'

'I have no time for secrets,' Kiyoi snapped. 'Out with it.'

The boy swallowed hard, his face turning a deep, shameful crimson. 'She was in the tunnel... to meet me. We have been meeting here for months.'

The world shifted slightly for Kiyoi as the pieces clicked into a different, more mundane pattern. She looked from the trembling noblewoman to the low-ranking guard. The social gulf between them was an ocean; Lord Mazu would never have sanctioned such a match. This hidden passage, situated perfectly between the Outer Palace and the Inner Palace barracks, was their only sanctuary.

The 'signs of life' weren't the tracks of a vengeful princess plotting a coup. The silk sheets, the tea, the cushions—it wasn't a tactical base. It was a love nest. Sanya hadn't been stealing from the palace to support an insurrection; she had been pilfering from her own household to make a cold stone floor bearable for her lover.

Kiyoi felt a wave of embarrassment, followed by a stinging prickle of guilt. 'Release her,' Kiyoi ordered quietly.

The guards let go, and Sanya collapsed into the young Guard's arms, her body racking with violent, shuddering sobs. He held her tightly, whispering apologies into her hair, oblivious to the Captain of the Guard and the Nation’s Regent standing mere feet away.

Kiyoi watched them for a moment, the silence of the tunnel feeling heavier than before. 'I apologise for the... intensity of my questioning, Lady Sanya,' she said, though the words felt inadequate. ‘Please understating, the situation is quite dire.’

She turned back the way they came, her pragmatic mind refusing to let the lead go entirely. 'You two. You have been using this specific stretch of the tunnel for months? How long has the rough tunnel been there?’

‘Pardon?’

‘Follow us,’ Rin commanded.

The young guard, still keeping a protective arm around Sanya, fell in step behind them as they walked back along towards the garden’s guardhouse. When they reached it, Kiyoi gestured toward the section of the wall they had been examining earlier. ‘Look at the masonry over there. That pile of rubble and the backfilled earth—was that there when you met last?'

The guard walked over to the jagged rocks, his eyes narrowing with professional curiosity. He ran a hand over the fresh fractures in the stone.

'No, My Lady,' he said firmly. 'This was a solid wall yesterday morning. Someone has moved the earth here recently.'

Kiyoi let out a long, shaky breath. It hadn't been a complete waste of time. While the occupant of the alcove was a harmless girl in love, the tunnel itself had been breached by an earthbender within the last twelve hours.

'Captain Rin,' Kiyoi said, her eyes narrowing as she stared at the backfilled wall. 'From now on, use this tunnel to change the guard, regularly. If they tunneled in once, they can do it again; it is best this doesn’t stay vacant.’ Kiyoi sighed and turned to Sanya and her lover. ‘And someone get these two out of here discreetly. If Lord Mazu finds out about this, I don't have the energy to mediate a feud.’

‘You’re not going to tell my father?’ Sanya questioned.

Kiyoi shook her head, ‘I have more important things to attend to, and this is none of my business. But I suggest you find a safer place to meet, and that you, young man,’ she addressed the guard who was probably her own age. ‘… It would do you well to take your protection of the palace as seriously as you take the protection of Lady Mazu here. It will be easier in the long run for both of you if you work hard and climb the ranks quickly. You’re already observant; you’d have to be to find this place, try to get assigned somewhere those skills are more valued.’

‘T-thank you, My Lady.’ He stuttered and bowed in a Fire Nation salute.

As the couple was led away, Kiyoi looked at the disturbed tunnel wall.

Zuko had to have been taken through here. Taken right under their feet in the heart of the palace. He had literally been dragged in the dark right underneath her as she slept. I failed him, she thought, then clenched her fists. No, I haven’t, not yet. She was going to bring him home. No matter what.

The abandoned royal villa sat like a bleached skeleton against the dunes of the secluded beach. Once, the white plaster had gleamed; now, it was pitted by salt and choked by stubborn sea-grass.

'You’re the Fire Lord, Sparky. You’re loaded,' Toph said, her voice echoing off the cracked tiles of the courtyard. She kicked a fallen roof tile. 'Why haven’t you sent a crew of decorators to clean up this dump? It’s a fixer-upper, but even I can feel the potential.'

Zuko looked at the empty doorframes, his eyes clouded, 'I thought about it. When my mother came back, and I realised I actually had a family again—Kiyi, and Ikem—I wanted to give them the holidays I thought I remembered.' He let out a dry, hollow laugh. 'But this place wasn't actually a happy memory for my mother. I was seeing it through the eyes of a child who didn't know his parents were miserable. Now? It just feels haunted. Fake.'

Toph went quiet for a second, her foot tapping softly against the sand-dusted floor. 'Yeah. I get that,' she agreed, her tone uncharacteristically soft. Then, with a sudden shift in energy, she slammed her heel down. 'But we can make new memories.'

In an instant, the sand in the courtyard desolate garden bed swirled and rose, hardening into a perfect, miniature architectural model of Kuon’s auction hall.

'Here’s the play,' Toph said, her fingers dancing over the sand-walls. 'With your invite, I’m your plus-one. We mingle. I’ll talk up the Beifong Metalbending Academy and network with the rich buzzards, but I’m going to play the blind waif card.'

Zuko arched an eyebrow. 'The what?'

'I’ll downplay my own skills. I’ll tell them I’m just a teacher who unlocked the potential of my students because of my unfortunate condition deepens my meagre connect into something deeper than the visual surface,' she detailed in a snobby accent and then grinned wickedly. 'If they think I’m helpless and delicate, they won’t ask why I didn't stop a thief. It keeps the Beifong name clean.'

Zuko raised an eyebrow. 'You? Delicate?'

'Shut it,' she grinned. 'You’re going to be the eccentric, arrogant Fire Lord. Insist on a screen in front of our box. Tell them the riff-raff aren't worthy of ogling the Royal Countenance. It gives us cover to move.'

'And we strike before the final item is called,' Zuko added, leaning over the sand-map. 'But Toph... you still haven't told me what we’re actually taking. Is it a scroll? A jewel?'

Toph’s smile grew wide and predatory. 'We aren't stealing, Sparky. We’re liberating. The big-ticket item is a baby badger-mole.'

'A baby badger-mole?' He stared at her, horrified. 'Toph, I thought I was going to be able to fit this haul in my pockets! How are we supposed to steal a badger-mole? We can't exactly put a fake beard on it and walk it through the front door!'

'Relax,' Toph dismissed him with a wave. 'You’re the distraction. As the Blue Spirit, you’re going to steal the other high-value item and lead the security on a chase. While they’re hunting the masked thief, I’m taking the little guy.'

'And what is this other high-ticket item?' Zuko asked, rubbing his temples.

'I don't know,' Toph shrugged. 'It’s not living, it’s in a locked chest. Something expensive, relatively small, wooden and metal, I think. You’ll find it.'

Zuko sighed, examining the layout of the vault and the holding pen where the animal would be kept. He traced the escape route with his eyes. 'So... I draw them away, you get the baby, then I somehow circle back to our box. We lift the screen, look bored, and tell Kuon his security is a disappointment before we "tut-tut" our way to the exit?'

'Exactly,' Toph chuckled. 'Just make sure you mention my school on the way out. "Oh, Kuon, if only you’d hired a Beifong-trained metalbender, your precious treasure wouldn't have vanished into thin air."'

Zuko looked back at the sand-model of the auction house and at Toph and smiled. For the first time in months, the weight of the crown felt a little lighter, replaced by the familiar, sharp thrill of a bad idea.

Kiyoi stood at the head of the table, her hands flat on the mahogany, watching as her unorthodox consultants began to weave a web of intelligence that the Ministry’s official scouts had missed entirely.

‘So this is Mikki, one of Azula’s follower’s and she is in the capital,’ Lilly said, her finger pointing to a small portrait in the Ministry’s dossier. ‘She’s a girl I recognised from some circles of people who made it out of the madhouse. She was in there before I did my investigation for the women’s association. Hard eyes, but a soft heart for her own. I saw her dockside two days ago, working the crew on a manatee-whale ferry. She was trying to be invisible, but failing cause she actually drew my attention because she was acting the way someone does when they’re hiding.’

Keizan nodded, his arms crossed over his chest. ‘Her mother confided in me that she has been making secret trips to the docks under the guise of visiting the fish market. The father is a piece of work—a minor noble with a drinking problem and a temper. He thinks his daughter is a willful and troubled girl because she isn’t pushed around easily. Mikki’s a bender; her parents are not. Mikki was institutionalised for attacking her father. I bet there’s an omission there that she was defending her mother. Anyway the mother is still slipping her rice cakes and extra clothes secretly and has been for the past three months, so we can confirm she’s on the mainland.’

‘And the ferry goes up and down the inlet, from Azulon harbour, the docks, though the dragon flats and does charters to the Caldera Forest reserve, that small island in the middle of the inlet,’ Sparrowkeet chimed in, her voice light but steady. ‘I’ve been listening to the fishermen in the tavern. They’re a superstitious lot, and for the past week, they’ve been talking about "spirit fires" on the island.’

Kiyoi’s heart skipped a beat. 'Spirit fires?'

'Blue fire,' Sparrowkeet clarified.

A heavy silence followed. Blue fire was a very distinct signature. But Peony, who had been leafing through a stack of reports from the Kyoshi Warriors, shook her head.

‘Peony, do you have something to add?’ Kiyoi prompted.

'I have nothing concrete, Lady Kiyoi, but I believe I have a possible motive for whatever your circumstances are; I believe the princess has lost her followers.'

Kiyoi tilted her head, her dark eyes narrowing. 'What makes you think that?'

'She broke the code,' Peony said, reading from a report regarding an insurgent attack on a grain storage facility four months ago. 'The Kyoshi Warriors set a trap. Azula and her cell attacked, but they were forced to retreat. Two of her girls were captured. The following evening, the insurgents returned and rescued them—but Azula wasn't among the rescuers.'

'You think they abandoned her because she refused to save her own?' Kiyoi asked.

Peony nodded firmly. 'Women like us—courtesans, workers, survivors—we look out for each other. It’s the only way we survive the world. It is an unspoken creed. We give our loyalty to those who would do the same for us.'

'The bonds I saw in the institutions were the same,' Lilly agreed. 'Those girls followed Azula because they thought she was one of them—a girl the world had tried to break and who’s family had abandoned her. But when she left two of them to that fate. She treated them like pawns, not sisters. Azula proved she thought herself above the creed; she betrayed them.'

'Keizan’s intel confirms it,' Sparrowkeet added. 'We know at least one of those girls is back in the capital and has been for months—at least three months—the timeline fits.'

Kiyoi let out a long, weary sigh, her hand going to the bridge of her nose. 'I can imagine Azula took that well.'

Then, a frown deepened the lines of her face. The pieces were shifting. 'If you are right... if Azula has been abandoned, that explains why she is on that island and being so bold now. She isn't just hiding; she’s hunting. She has always had a... let’s call it a sensitivity to being betrayed. She’s tracking down the members who left her and people she feels have failed her.'

‘If everything I’ve heard about the princess is true… Mikki’s in grave danger.’ Keizan surmised.

Kiyoi looked back at the map, her finger tracing the inlet near Azulon Harbour. 'And that forest reserve...'

She felt a cold certainty settle in her chest. It’s isolated and remote, yet close enough to the docks and palace aqueduct tunnels to move someone between. It’s the perfect place to hold the Fire Lord.

‘Lilly, do you think you could introduce me to Mikki? Would she trust you if you approached her?’

The auction hall of Cinnabar Sands was a cavern of gilded excess. Zuko sat behind a screen of woven reeds in the royal box, his hands gripped so tightly on the arms of his chair that his knuckles were white. Toph sat beside him, her feet bare against the polished floor. He watched the unfolding spectacle with a grim fascination. Each item presented was a testament to excess and the tastes of those who had gathered. The wealthiest members of society were quieter than Lords and Ladies about their power and money—when in public. Here however, the murmuring boasts were a constant drone, even chortles barked out occasionally between items. But once an item appeared, the chatter died, and the air was full of the quiet, rhythmic clicking of counting beads.

The parade of trinkets continued.

‘Item four,' the auctioneer announced, his voice oily and grand. The item was brought out on a silk cushion. Zuko sat up.

It was a bone knife. A smoothed, carved figure made up the handle; the blade was sharp and polished into a pearlescent sheen. He thought of Kiyoi immediately when he saw it. She had lost her own knife—the one she’d had since Iroh brought it for her on his ship—during a skirmish months ago. She hadn’t complained, but he had seen her fingers hovering up her empty sleeve more than once.

This knife was perfect; it was elegant, balanced, and a good size for her to conceal. But mostly it reminded him of the hairpin she wore occasionally; it looked like something Hanokka, her father, might have crafted.

'…A primitive hunting implement from the South Pole. Unornamented, but with a carved novelty handle; a tiger-seal, we believe. Remarkably preserved. A conversation piece, perhaps; we shall start the bidding at 30 ban.'

'30!' one merchant called out from the floor after a long silence.

Zuko felt a hot flash of anger. 30 Ban? What an insult. A primitive curiosity? How dare they.

'200 ban,' Zuko declared.

The room fell silent. Necks craned toward their box. The auctioneer stammered, '200? Your Majesty, that is... most generous.'

'It is not generous,' Zuko said loudly, pitching his voice for the entire room to hear. 'It is a pittance for such exquisite craftsmanship. The bone-work suggests a master’s hand. It is a tragedy that so few in this room have the eye to recognise true artistry.'

Beside him, Toph let out a low whistle. 'Easy, Sparky,' she chuckled. 'I can feel your armrests splintering from here. You’re supposed to be bored, remember? Bored and slightly insulted that you have to breathe the same air as these people.'

'I am insulted,' Zuko hissed back, adjusting the heavy gold headpiece that was beginning to give him a headache. 'Primitive curiosities.’ Zuko spat, his golden eyes fixed on the knife as an assistant arrived to wrap the. ‘These aren’t curiosities, they’re heirlooms. They’re pieces of people’s lives that my ancestors tore away. 30 Ban—it’s an outrage!’

‘Well, you’ve got them nervous now, Sparky,’ she whispered. ‘The big-shots are sweating because the deep pockets means business.’

They tuned back into the event below.

'Item seven,' the auctioneer sang out, 'a rare Hira’a original theatre mask. Hand-carved from seasoned cedar, depicting the Dragon Empress. A must-have for any devotee of the dramatic arts.'

Zuko felt a pang in his chest. His mother would cherish it—a piece of her home, a connection to the stage she had been forced to leave behind. He watched as the merchants began to bicker; the price climbing steadily. He hesitated, his fingers tapping an anxious rhythm on the arm of his chair. He didn't want to seem desperate, yet the thought of this mask sitting in some lord’s dusty study felt like another theft.

'Just buy the thing,' Toph muttered, leaning back and crossing her arms. 'Your heart is thumping like a trapped bird. Besides, we need to establish that the Fire Lord has an endless supply of gold. It makes our alibi more solid. Why would we steal it if you can afford it?'

Zuko exhaled. '80 ban.'

‘100!’ someone cried.

‘500 Ban!’ he countered.

The room gasped. The auctioneer’s gavel fell before anyone else could even draw breath.

‘Next, item nine,’ the auctioneer continued, his voice rising in pitch, ‘is an Earth Kingdom doll. Hand-stitched silk, porcelain face, glass eyes. Mint condition. The bidding begins at 50...’

‘80!’

‘200!’

‘600!’

The bids climbed with a ferocity that made Zuko’s head spin. He looked at the doll—it was a simple thing, really. He’d seen them before. Uncle gifted one to Azula a long time ago.

‘This is crazy, they’re a dime a dozen in Gaoling,’ Toph scoffed, picking at her teeth. ‘But stick a rumour on it that the Crazy Princess had one, and I guess suddenly all these idiots want one.’

Zuko was suddenly struck by a chilling realisation. He thought of the bone knife being boxed away for him—the gift for Kiyoi.

‘Toph… I think I made a mistake,’ Zuko muttered, watching the bidding frenzy. ‘I’ve just made things like that knife more desirable to people like this. What if I’ve set a trend? It’s not going to get people to appreciate them; it’s just gonna increase the demand for stolen Water Tribe artefacts.’ He groaned, his head sinking into his hands.

‘Don’t overthink it, Sparky, princesses and queens tend to be better trendsetters than Fire Lords anyway,’ Toph said, her head suddenly snapping toward the entrance of their box. ‘Now, quit moping. You need to get into your work clothes.’

Within his crimson robes sat the folded black stagehand outfit he’d 'borrowed' from the Ember Island Players. The Blue Spirit mask was tucked securely into the folds of his sash. He’d return it all later, but for now, it was his skin.

'Toph could you…' Zuko whispered, glancing around for a corner.

Toph let out a short, barking laugh. 'What, do you want me to turn around, Sparky?' She waved a hand mockingly over her milky eyes. 'I see all of you, all the time. I see everyone.'

Zuko scowled, his face flushing. 'What exactly do you mean by—'

Toph suddenly went dead still. Her feet shifted on the floor, her expression sharpening. 'Wait. The Buzzard’s coming.'

The screen fluttered as Kuon poked his head in, bowing so low he practically folded in half.

'Your Majesty... Miss Beifong... I trust the refreshments are to your liking? We have a rare vintage of spiced plum wine, aged in the colonies—'

'The wine is adequate,' Zuko interrupted, his voice sliding into that smooth, cutting baritone he had inherited from his father. He didn't look at Kuon; he kept his gaze fixed on the stage below. 'However, the pace of this evening is... sluggish. Miss Beifong and I have a long journey ahead of us. I trust the special interest items will be presented soon?'

'Of course they will, Fire Lord!' Kuon scurried back, his face flushed with the thrill of being snubbed by royalty.

As the curtain closed, Toph let out a snort. 'Nice. The "sluggish" comment was—’ she kissed her fingers. ‘—You’re a natural at being a jerk.'

'I had a very good teacher,' Zuko muttered.

Zuko stood and moved to the back of his box as the next item was brought forth.

'Item eleven,' he cried, his voice crackling with greed. 'A ceremonial totem necklace. Carved from the tooth of a great sea-beast, inlaid with lapis. A sacred relic of the Southern Water Tribe, brought back during the Great Raids.'

The description had certainly changed now and the room didn't hesitate this time.

The starting bid of 50 ban was met instantly with a shout of '200!' from a merchant in the front row.

Behind the reed screen, Zuko’s jaw set. He was standing in the corner, his hands hovering over the ties of his overshirt. His friends' culture should never be a statement piece for the people who had helped destroy it.

'600!' Zuko called out.

The auctioneer called out for other offers. Satisfied Zuko turned his focus back to his transformation. He felt Toph’s presence heavily—and his face burned with a sudden bashfulness as he reached for the black trousers to find her looking over her shoulder at him.

'Toph, seriously,' he hissed. 'Could you just... face the other way?'

Toph slumped back in her chair, making a show of lifting her feet off the ground, a smirk playing on her lips. 'Sparky, you look no different to me with or without your clothes. Your reaction right now is the most interesting thing about you.'

Zuko’s face flushed a deep scarlet, his fingers fumbling with the ties of his sash. 'It’s a matter of principle, Toph. A gentleman doesn't... he doesn't just disrobe in front of—'

‘What, are you saving yourself for someone special?’ She sang teasingly.

‘Don’t start.’ He warned.

‘700 Ban!’ a voice called out in the hall.

‘850!’

Zuko cursed inwardly. ‘1,000!’ he countered, his voice a sharp, commanding whip that cracked across the hall.

The bidding died instantly. No one dared challenge the Fire Lord when he sounded that dangerous.

'T-sold! To the Royal Box!' the auctioneer stammered.

He reached for the Blue Spirit mask, the snarling face catching the dim light. He didn't put it on yet; he held it for a moment, looking at the hollow eyes.

‘I’m taking it all,’ Zuko resolved darkly, ‘Everything I bid on tonight.’ His eyes fixed on the gold-leafed ceiling and the silver refreshment tray. ‘I’m not letting a single coin line that man’s pockets. When we leave, that baby badger-mole, and the stolen items go home.’

'I like the sound of that,' Toph sat up straight and cracked her knuckles—a sound like small stones breaking. 'The Fire Lord pays, but the Blue Spirit collects. Let's do this.'

The docks were a frantic symphony of waves, fishmongers, sailors cursing, and the low, mournful lowing of manatee whales. Kiyoi moved through the crowd with a deliberate, studied anonymity. She had traded her Grand Advisor’s silks for the rough-spun linen of a merchant’s clerk, her dark hair tucked into a practical wrap. Behind her, Suki and a handpicked squad of Kyoshi Warriors dressed in civilian tunics blended into the bustle of stevedores.

Lilly led the way, her movements fluid and unassuming. She stopped near a gangplank where a young woman with a sharp, bird-like face was coiling a heavy mooring rope.

‘Mikki,’ Lilly said softly.

The girl froze. Her eyes snapped up, landing first on Lilly, then on Kiyoi. The recognition was instantaneous, and with it came the instinctive, twitchy tension of a haddock hare scented by an eel hound. Mikki’s gaze darted toward the water, measuring the jump to a nearby skiff.

‘Don’t,’ Kiyoi said, her voice a calm, anchoring weight. She stepped forward, keeping her hands visible and empty. ‘I am not here with the Guard, Mikki. I just want to talk. You aren’t in trouble, not from me anyway.’

Mikki’s chest heaved, her fingers white as they gripped the rough rope. ‘That’s what they always say before the shackles come out.’

‘I know, but…’ Kiyoi dropped her voice so it wouldn't carry. ‘If I wanted you in shackles, you’d be in them. I’m here because I want to know if you have seen the Princess. Or your other “sisters.” And I’m here to warn you that you are in grave danger.’

At the mention of the Princess, Mikki’s defiance flickered into genuine fear. ‘I... I haven’t seen her. Not in a while.’

‘She is here, Mikki. In the capital,’ Lilly said, watching the girl’s face pale. ‘We wanna help you.’

‘I am offering you amnesty,’ Kiyoi announced. ‘I will leave you to your life, but I suggest you and any of the others who left her make yourselves scarce. If you need help to do so, find Lilly here, or visit Heronpike Lane.’

Mikki let out a shaky breath, her knees trembling. ‘I thought... I thought I was seeing shadows. I felt watched for days. I told myself it was just my father’s men, come to drag me back to his house. But if it’s her...’ She looked at Kiyoi with wide, hollow eyes. ‘She’s alone, isn't she? We all left. After she let the others get taken and didn't look back... we couldn't do it anymore. We weren't anything to her. We were just things.’

‘Was there an earthbender in your ranks?’ Kiyoi asked, leaning in.

Mikki shook her head slowly. ‘No. Not in our group. But... there were girls from the colonies. High-born girls whose families sent them to the institutions to cure them of their rebellion. Some of them came home recently. When we last saw the Princess, we were closer to the Earth Kingdom border. It’s possible she recruited new hands there.’

Kiyoi nodded, the pieces shifting. Azula was rebuilding, even if her foundation was crumbling. ‘Mikki, can you please fetch your boss. I need to charter this ferry.’

As Mikki scurried away, Suki stepped up beside Kiyoi, her brow furrowed.

‘A ferry, Kiyoi? It’s slow. If Azula sees us coming, she’ll have the Fire Lord’s life before we even hit the sand.’

‘The Princess will be watching, but for the Navy,’ Kiyoi explained, her gaze fixed on the dark silhouette of the forest reserve island on the horizon. ‘She’ll be listening for the chug of steam engines and looking for the flare of coal fires. The ferry is not out of place and passes here regularly. It is a ghost on the water.’

Suki crossed her arms, her expression grim. ‘I don’t think we’re prepared for a direct assault, even with the element of surprise. We don’t know her numbers or the layout of the island’s interior.’

‘You’re right. But we aren't going to the island yet,’ Kiyoi agreed, her eyes narrowing as she felt the heavy pull of the tide. ‘We are one sundown early, and we must use every advantage. We wait for nightfall. It is a full moon tonight; Tui smiles upon us, but the operation starts now.

‘I want a surveillance team on the opposite shore immediately,’ she ordered. ‘I want every boat in this harbour accounted for. No one approaches that island.’

‘You should go to Lady Ursa,’ Suki suggested quietly. ‘Tell her we have a lead. I’ll start the preparations here for nightfall.’

She turned away from the water, her mind drifting to Zuko. She pictured him in the dark, perhaps listening to the same waves she was, waiting for a rescue he didn't know was coming.