Shadows and Steel | ✓

chapter two

-2-

Elle remained stone-faced as silence regained its silky hold. Mikel reached under his desk, uncovering an old gilded box. She couldn't help but notice the sides, adorned with depictions of animals and flowers with thorns crowning the lid. A hand-crafted beauty, well-made and expensive. Placing the golden disk inside, he slammed the box shut before she could glimpse the contents.

He settled back into his chair, clearing his throat. "Elle, I have sent Kade to brief you for your next mission. This one, I'm afraid is compulsory."

She leant forward, curious. What had the Highers thought of now?

The stickier side of assassinating on behalf of the Order. She didn't have much choice in what missions she took. Wherever Mikel wanted her, she went. Clients payed a handsome sum for their discreet services. If she didn't, then there would be a hundred others eager to take her place. Elle was just another disposable body.

The killing wasn't personal. People are alive then they are not—efficient, even.

Elle tilted her head. "Is it to do with the other month?"

A mishap involving an accidental kidnapping of the Lord of Orea's niece. It had caused quite the hassle for the Order, and to say Mikel was pissed off was probably an understatement. She knew that mistakes meant improvisation and improvisation allowed for errors.

She also knew that the deadliest kind of anger is a slow rage bubbling like an over-boiled pot. It could explode in a shouting fit or snake its way out in strands and poison the mind itself. Mikel had taught her that.

"No. Although if you do draw that much attention to yourself again it will be the end of you as an agent for this Order. I still hold your fate in our contract," the bastard had the parchment paper on him. He held it up to candlelight, taking a moment to read the clauses. "Says here you are to remain in the Order until you can pay off your debts at twenty-one."

The bastard wrote that himself. He knew just as well as she did what her conditions were. If she could just rip it out of his hand and burn it on the candle's flame, she would.

"Understood."

He nodded once, satisfied. "You might even enjoy this one," a wicked glint remained in his eye. Elle didn't know what to make of it. It seems he was done with her as he waved her away with a flick of a wrist. Biting her tongue and striding towards his door, she gripped the brass knob tightly, glancing back at the man. Utterly transfixed by the wooden box, he stroked the edges gingerly.

She made sure to slam the door behind her.

A series of loud bumps sounded from inside, followed by an ungodly spewing of colourful language. He might just be sorting out his letters until the early hours of the morning.

Silvius stood stationed outside his office, glaring at her as she passed. Elle couldn't help herself from saluting him mockingly. "How was guarding the office all day like a good dog?"

He took a step towards her, blue eyes narrowing. "The only bitch I see here is you."

She pooh-poohed his insult, tutting down her nose at him.

"I hear you can't be trusted with the simplest of tasks anymore, Elle," he goaded.

"Gods, you must be bored if you're listening to the crap fresh out of the gossip mill!" She grinned as she watched his complexion redden to resemble a pig.

"Mark my words, girl. You're just Mikel's little lapdog. One of these days you will dig yourself into your own grave!"

Holding a hand to her mouth to cover a yawn, the blusterous Silvius was silenced. "Ta-ta. I'd love to stay and chat but I'm afraid I've got to get back to my yapping."