Shadows and Steel | ✓

chapter twenty-two

-22-

Mather stalked through the room and immediately everyone fell silent. Elle lifted her head from her pillow, eyes following his smooth movements. A blackboard had been pinned to the wall and he began to painstakingly write every recruits' name. With every hoot and competitive holler Elle wanted to saw her ears off.

Eventually she roused and padded over to the board. The sinking feeling in her stomach dug itself into a pit when she noted Vhiena scrawled near the bottom of the list. She blinked. Then glared again at the board until the chalky letters swam before her eyes. The bottom? How was that possible, agents who hadn't held the disk at all were above her! Rand must have had something to do with it.

His name was at the top, Tan's just underneath his.

Elle's blood boiled. She stood with her arms crossed, lips set in a scowl. Rand patted her on the shoulder, "Better luck next time." She jerked away from his touch. Her frown deepened as she strode away from the crowd around the board, ducking into the bathroom and splashing cold water onto her face.

Stinging her cheeks, the icy water shook her awake. She leant forward, peering into the mirror at her smudged reflection. I need to talk to Cerid.

Her foot nudged something heavy. Elle glanced down and found a well-thumbed book, slightly damp in a puddle. Leafing through its pages, the printed words were still legible—why would anyone throw away a perfectly good story? Flipping the novel over, the agent scanned the cover which read The Splitting of Saryn, then in smaller letters beneath it: the Rift that tore the realms apart.

A history book. For the first time in a while, her face broke into a small smile. Tucking it under her arm, she strode back to the bed, planning on escaping into a world of politics and magic before a rude awakening. Training had been cancelled today, giving their bodies some rest time after the prior day's activities.

Elle didn't look at Tan as she wove through the beds, nor did her eyes stray from the page when the cot dipped with a creak to accommodate another weight. "Get it over with now." She grumbled, turning the page so fast it almost ripped.

Cerid's brows furrowed, "get what over with?"

"The taunts, the criticism." She said, looking up. Then, when he didn't reply she waved a hand towards the blackboard, "you've seen my placing, right?"

"Yes, I have."

She sunk her nose back into the novel, sighing sharply. "I don't see how those—buffoons beat me! I had the golden plate in my hand, I stole it successfully!" Cerid pushed down the book obscuring her face, shaking his head. "If you were being scored on possession you'd have placed much higher, yes."

Her eyes narrowed. "What in the Hells was it scored on? Bloody DETRA." The last part she uttered under her breath.

"The one thing you seem incapable of performing: teamwork."

Oh. She curled her hands into fists, gritting her teeth together to strangle the frustrated scream balling in her throat. "You're telling me, I could have won if I just stayed with my pathetic team, camping on those knolls?"

Cerid shrugged, scooting along the cot when she sat up. "You did not show the DETRA mentality—we work in teams, relying on one another. With a little more discipline, you could be one of the best."

Her nostrils flared. "I did what was asked of me."

"And we were looking for people to highlight their characters and choices, not the golden plate. There's plenty of time to prove yourself as a promising agent."