Shadows and Steel | ✓

chapter thirty-two

here's an important chapter...

-32-

DETRA locked the exits mere hours later. No explanation given, only that the orders had come straight from the Imperial Party. Mather divulged nothing more to the anxious agents, who grumbled complaints. Curfew would be brought an hour earlier, more guards stationed everywhere and it was strongly recommended that agents didn't leave their Sections for most part of the day.

It meant Elle was forced into Tan's company for more hours. It meant that all those minutes without her mentor present felt longer. She knew that Tan noticed Cerid's absence but she only made passing comments. Elle was too tired to merit the taunts with a response.

The entire guild plunged into chaos as lockdown was carried out, with more agents stationed at every corner. Elle was acutely aware that every time she walked to grub, shadows trailed her. She heard the quiet rustle of their leathers. 

Rumours flew around the trainees—that the Imperial leader had been killed, a mission gone wrong, that the Order had finally begun the war that had been brewing between the two. Elle didn't feed the gossip, instead rereading The Splitting of Saryn for the third time, her fingers running over the dog-eared pages. 

Cerid's voice echoed in her mind. "Keep reading history books." She promptly closed the leather book and stuffed it under her pillow.

She caught Mather looking her direction more than once.

As she lay on her cot, she turned Ravaryn over in her hands, thinking. I know I'm close to discovering the Imperial Heir. He might make a speech, rally DETRA to arms. But no speech ever did come. Instead, a day or so later they were fed an explanation riddled with holes. No one dared to demand more information from those higher up.

Elle had waited until the medics vacated, mumbling some excuse about grabbing her things. They were too focused on Cerid, they hadn't cared that she stayed. She knew all too well that in minutes, commanders would be crowding the room and examining the bodies. information gathered from the scene wouldn't be privy to most.

The man impaled on Cerid's sword was still slumped on the ground. She pulled the blade out of his back then stripped the agent of his dramatic mask uncovering high cheekbones and a hooked nose. Frozen in a glassy expression, the more she looked at his face the more familiarity crept upon her with satin claws.

She rubbed her neck. Blood stained her fingers. It had taken three harsh scrubs to wash off completely. The assassin shuddered at the memory of crouching down, scanning his suit for an emblem, a symbol of his loyalty. Who had attacked them?

The dark leathers bore no symbol, his scabbard hung loosely at his waist and shoulder plates were battered, but all sigil-less. Without pausing to think, she ripped open the material. There, nestled into his neck just as she had expected, was a small disk attached to a chain.

On one side a name was engraved: Erita. She cocked her head at the man, "Your lover?" In response she was only greeted by a steady drip of water somewhere and distant yells below. Damn. She had hoped for an indication of loyalties not just some woman's name.

The other agent was sprawled where Elle had stabbed her. She could see by the blood smear that she had tried to drag herself away. A futile attempt at best. 

Her leathers were identical to the man's, but she had been wearing a jacket. After a fruitless search checking pockets and linings, the assassin resorted to stripping her of her shirt.

Sitting back on her haunches, Elle blew out a breath—eyes resting on the stitched symbol. It was as familiar as the back of her hand.

The Order's emblem stared pointedly back at her.