-51-

Elle was aware that her bare emotions had been laid out like carcasses in the sun for birds to pick apart. Tristan's behaviour towards her told her as much. He spoke to her softly, like some child he had to watch his words around. She paced the safe room, now reunited with Kath as Tristan lifted the bottle up. Thick crimson liquid swirled inside. The bottle was warm to touch.

On the safe itself a lip of a small funnel had been carved into the dragonstone. Tilting the rim of the vial, Tristan's hands were steady—careful not to spill a single drop. According to the texts she had scanned, the vial should be enough to crack the safe. If it wasn't....well, she didn't want to think about that.

The first trickle of blood dribbled down into the mechanism. They waited a moment. Nothing.

Kath frowned, her arms firmly crossed. "We need more."

More blood flowed inside until the last few droplets of blood dripped down. Tristan ran his hands through ebony hair and stood back. "What's happening?"

"I don't know." Kath crouched closer.

"We didn't have enough blood." Elle intoned, hating how dead her voice sounded.

Tristan held out a hand. "Wait." He shot a kinder look towards her, stopping her from stalking out of the room entirely. They fell silent until Elle sighed and jabbed a finger at the safe. "So what? My book was wrong! Cerid will die! Let's get this over with."

She spun on her heel. It was as she began to walk out that the dragonstone groaned.

Whirling back, she saw small fissures appearing, reluctantly cracking the dark stone. DETRA's emblem was riddled with the fractures and chunks of the onyx stone began to crumble and break. Tristan reached inside, having cleared a small hole. He was careful to avoid the jagged edges.

Once he had wrapped his fingers around the object inside, he nodded to the other two. It had remained untouched for god knows how many years. Elle and Kath crowded round as he retracted his hand. Parchment. Inside the safe was parchment, rolled and branded with a seal she didn't recognise.

They all stared at it for a moment before Elle elbowed him.

"Well? Open it!"

"Are you sure we should?" Kath's soft voice echoed. With a decided flick, Tristan broke the seal and unfurled the dusty paper. Blowing away the collected dust from the sheet, he held it up to a lamp. "It looks like...?"

"Blueprints." Elle snatched the paper, scrutinising it herself. "Plans for some kind of machine." She narrowed her eyes, shaking the parchment in Tristan's face. "We risk our lives for this! Why would Mikel even want this crusty thing?"

Tristan took it from her trembling hands, promptly rolling it up and placed it safely into his pocket.

"You're asking the wrong question," Kath wrung her hands, glancing at the light of Cerid's room beyond. The two others turned to the small woman. "Why would DETRA go to such lengths to conceal it?"

"We'll worry about that later." Tristan took a step forward and out of the chambers.

The man froze once in one of the halls and Elle slammed into his back, distracted by her brooding. "What?" She hissed, peering over his shoulder. Heavy footsteps thundered just around the corner. Kath made a small sound.

"Hide!" Tristan muttered.

"Where?" Elle retorted. "No. We'll fight." She unsheathed a spare dagger from Tristan's belt. It felt wrong in her hand.

It was only when the light caught on his hair, and Elle glimpsed the coppery colour that she let down her guard. When the assassin made his way to the bottom of the stairs, she enveloped him in a hug. Deaf to Tristan's warning, she felt the man judder backwards in surprise, then a moment later wrapping his arms around her and lifting her figure off the ground.

"Leo! I thought you'd never get here. What took you so long?"

He shook his head at her. "Oh, the usual. I fell a couple thousand feet. Located a lift, threatened a man to bring me here, he refused, so I—"

"I'm sure we can hear this tale later," Tristan interrupted, emerging from the shadows. "We need to get going."

Leo nodded, sparing a look to Cerid's bleeding body just behind him. "I agree. Especially since there may have been a few altercations with various guards and agents and the like."

"How many are dead?" Tristan huffed.

"Only two. The rest are bleeding out." At Tristan's disapproving glare Leo threw his hands up in the air. "I didn't have the time to finish them off!"

Elle sighed and began her pacing. "Right. So now we have a hoard of furious agents who, any second now, will realise they're under attack."

Right on cue, a piercing horn resounded from the depths of the cave. It made the walls tremble, and a series of priceless artefacts smashed upstairs. The answering roar from the agents made Elle shudder from her core.

A war cry.

Kath gulped. "I have a feeling they already know."

Tristan dared to glance down, where Boyo's body had indeed been found along with the smashed remains of the lift beside him. He turned back to his team: Leo, Elle, Kath. The absence of Jax felt harder than ever. Clearing his throat, he drummed his fingers on the stone wall. "Here's the plan."

#

Lugging a dead weight between two people grew increasingly harder as they ducked through side corridors and down spiralling stairs. Tristan had insisted they didn't use lifts. So they scurried like rodents in the light until shadows masked them once more. Leo and Kath had been pretty receptive to taking Cerid along with them.

It made things difficult, that's for sure. Elle resisted the urge to check on him every few seconds. She supported one arm, Leo the other. The others would swap in soon. More units of agents had been summoned to defend DETRA, especially since the Imperial Heir was notably absent.

Elle had made Leo tie a square of material they had ripped from her blue dress over his hair. The man attacking the guards had copper hair. A distinctive colour. Not that it would do much good when someone spied them hauling the unconscious Imperial Heir with them.

Voices and footsteps faded. Tristan waved them forward, eyes never leaving the dim hallway. Now they were entering the main part of DETRA. Guards passed nearby every minute, orders rang through halls. Elle brushed back her sweaty hair, readjusting Cerid's arm across her shoulders.

"When he wakes, knock him out again." She muttered through gritted teeth. Cerid groaned again.

Once out of sight down an abandoned nook in a dead-end hall, they propped him up. It was hard to fit five people in the small area and Tristan's back could easily be seen—

"Where are you supposed to be, agent?" A brisk voice boomed down the hallway.

Fear rocketed through them. Tristan slowly stood, stepping out of the shadows and away from the hiding assassins. "Not sure, sir. I'm a new recruit and I got lost coming from the dance."

"Right." The man's voice was familiar but Elle couldn't place it. "And why were you crouched here. It's quite a way to get lost from the grand hall." He didn't believe Tristan's story. Hells, she wouldn't have believed his bullshit.

"I-ah, apologise again. Could you direct me back?" He took another step away.

Elle didn't dare breathe too loudly. She clapped a hand over Cerid's mouth when he released another muted groan and prayed the officer hadn't heard.

"And—what's this?" The voice continued. Elle peeked her head around the corner and her heart stuttered to a stop. That silver hair. Those angular cheekbones, hollow and sharp. The way he stood. Her skin crawled just to lay eyes on the ghost-like man. He was a ghost. Haunting her for years.

Raf stood before Tristan, DETRA officer uniform shining. He stepped closer, inspecting Tristan's white shirt. It was in that moment that she knew they wouldn't get away without a fight. He peered closer, eyes widening when he found the stain to be blood.

As Raf opened his mouth to holler, Tristan surged forwards, drawing his blade.

"Fuck." Elle flipped so that her back rested against the wall. She glanced at Leo and Kath. "Take Cerid and go. I need this." Nodding gravely, Leo handed her one of his longer daggers. She stood without another word and slipped into the light.

When Raf saw her he laughed. Tristan paused, eyes flicking between them.

"I should have known it would be you behind this," Raf growled.

Elle searched his eyes again. Although his features were more or less the same, the boy she knew was replaced with something else. She had known that from the day he betrayed them. Elle tilted her head, picking at the dagger. "What can I say? Although this is a surprise."

She gestured to his pristine uniform.

"Do you like it?" He shot her a malicious grin. "Quite fitting."

"A monster serving a monstrous guild." Elle nodded once. "Fitting is one of the words I'd use."

"Last time we chatted you didn't have much to say."

A flashing memory of that cold room, the chains, the endless torture. She had waited too long to pass up her revenge.

"Although it is a shame that Verity couldn't be here with me to see this."

Elle spat at his feet. "I killed that bitch just like I'm going to kill you."

Tristan was sore from his brawl with Cerid. Even so, he raised his sword. Their blades met. Raf was never the best fighter—always beaten by both Elle and Kade. His wiry frame was perfect for slipping into places, performing underhand work. Not so good for brute strength. But this wasn't the Raf she had known.

His swordsmanship had improved, but he couldn't last long with two of them. Elle muted his taunts and comments as she joined the fray. At the beginning the fight was even, both Elle and Tristan scratched by his swiping blade. But Raf's swings were imprecise still and easy to dodge.

Elle kicked him in his torso so that he fell to the ground. His lip was bleeding and pristine hair tousled. It gave her some satisfaction to scuff his perfect uniform. She stood over his body and stood on his wrist. A bone snapped. His sword clattered to the ground. The man hissed, thrashing as Tristan punched his face.

"You've got the Heir, haven't you? You know you can't trust Mikel—what he's planning." Raf groaned.

The assassin barked a cold laugh. "Don't act like you're any more trustworthy than the man."

Raf grimaced as Tristan's blade pricked his skin. The assassin glanced at the hallway beyond, "we need to go." He spoke firmly. "Finish this."

Tristan saw the dangerous glint in Elle's eyes and didn't make the move to stab Raf in the gut. She looked down at him and raised Leo's dagger. First she cut his thigh. "That is for Kade."

Then, she stabbed his lower stomach, purposefully missing his vital organs. "That is for betraying us. And this?" She grins, wiping blood off the blade. Tristan kept his mouth clamped shut but his knuckles on Raf's uniform whitened.

"This is for being stupid enough to not finish the job."

But as her dagger comes down, another horn sounds through the halls. Boots and metal clank as groups of soldiers draw near. Tristan's hand stops Elle from killing the man sprawled before them. Raf scrambled backwards. The silver-haired man dragged himself away, already calling out to guards, to anyone to help him. Elle's eyes flashed with anger as the other assassin held her back from attacking.

"We can't stay," Tristan grunted, gripping Elle in place. She bucked against his hold, a feral snarl ripping from her throat. "Elle."

She tore her eyes from Raf's screaming. "He deserves the worst of ends." The assassin sniffed. "Not today. I want to spend more time finishing him off."

Tristan shivered at her icy tone. No doubt flickered in her stone expression. Elle wrenched out of his hold. It wasn't just one of her declarations, but a precisely-put promise.

When twenty guards rounded the corner, they found their general on the floor, a hand clapped over his wounds. Strained orders echoed through the hallway after the assassins, but Elle and Tristan were long gone.

#

The pair found Kath and Leo ducked just outside the main entrance hall, right where Tristan had told them to be. Kath jumped as Elle appeared behind her, her craned her head inside, eyes flitting from door to door. She remembered emerging from the darkness, blinking away the gloom all those weeks ago. Before Rand. Before Cerid.

"Bowmen. Up high." Leo glanced back, muttering in her ear. Peering up the tall room, she squinted until she spied the muddy-cloaked assassins, weapons strung. They crouched behind the white and blue banners, up on the high walkways running in the rafters of the cavernous space.

More obviously than the archers, the floor was crawling with DETRA personnel, proudly sporting their uniform. No one barked orders. They were expecting the Order's assassins to arrive any moment. Her mind raced with possibilities, plans clicking into place like a puzzle.

"At least thirty of them up there. More nearby." Kath grunted, shifting Cerid's arm off her shoulder. The team, although hidden, could be found in an instant. Elle let silence settle before answering, sounding each word out slowly.

"We don't need to push through them."

Tristan's brows furrowed together but it was Leo who spoke. "What do you mean?"

Elle gripped Leo's dagger tighter. Maybe if she clenched it hard enough it would stop the urge to go back and strangle Raf herself. "We need a distraction great enough to flush them out. They're waiting for us." Her eyes glinted. "We better give them what they want."

Standing from her crouch, she murmured a few words in Tristan's ears and strode inside the domed space. Elle had only taken a few steps inside before a few guards' eyes snapped to her. It wasn't her greatest idea to saunter in still wearing her ballgown but it was the best she could come up with on the spot.

The assassin made directly for Kovar, who dipped his head towards her. "Llir, still in your ballgown, I see?"

She traced one of the patterns, glancing up at the big man. "I didn't want to take it off."

"Listen, Vhiena," his bright eyes looked into hers. "I had no idea about Tan or Rand. I heard about the horrible trial you endured."

Elle offered him a small smile, the false name stinging her skin. "I don't blame you in the slightest. What's done is done."

"If there's any way I could help you..." he trailed off.

"Why ever would you do that? It was their doings, not yours." Elle tilted her head up at Kovar, who looked sheepish.

"Oh, I know. But I feel as if I should have stopped them, see?"

Her eyes zeroed onto his belt. More specifically, the worse-for-wear dagger hanging there. Her mouth opened, shut, then opened again. "My friend—that dagger in your belt. Where did you find it? I thought of a way you could repay me."

Kovar unsheathed it, holding it up to candlelight. "I was scouting around where we found a body and retrieved it. Do you want it?"

Her heart skipped a beat. There wasn't much time now but she nodded vigorously. Elle could already make out Ravaryn's signature etchings. She'd always know her own dagger. "It's a beauty," Kovar mused before flipping the handle towards her. "Don't lose it."

Elle planted a wet kiss on his stubbly cheek and snatched the blade into her care. She could have wept for joy. The man ducked his head bashfully, waving away her affection. "An apology, so I'll sleep better at night." Then as they stood back, Kovar took her in properly for the first time. "Good gods, llir. What brawl have you partaken in?"

Elle cringed at the blood and ripped fabric of the dress. People were staring at the odd attire. "Ran into trouble with that ginger agent a few minutes ago." The lie came easily. All agents had already been briefed to watch out for the copper-haired murderer. They didn't know how many. Until Rand comes racing in, with a description fitting her—she was alright.

"Where was he?" Kovar enquired, half-drawing his sword.

"I don't know the corridors too well, but I'd say on the northern side of the Vault. I raced straight here," she huffed, knowing her flushed cheeks added nicely to the act. Come on, Tristan. Elle resisted the urge to look backwards towards the arch.

Just when she was about to abandon her plan entirely and resort to fighting her way out, a cry echoed through the halls.

"I've found them! I've found them! Agents, attack!"

Tristan's acting was impeccable. Similar calls echoed between those around her. They had found them! Hordes of agents unsheathed their metal, shrieks of scraping steel filling the room. Men leapt and sprinted through the hallways to join the imaginary fray.

The room was abandoned as more commanders and units heard the call and sprinted as well. Kovar wore a grim expression as he bade farewell to Elle. "You're in no state to fight. We'll handle this."

Her ribs had almost been forgotten in the adrenaline rush. She couldn't spend more than a second acknowledging the pain. One boot dragging on the ground, she poked her head round the archway. "Go."

Cerid picked up between two of them, Kath walked a few steps ahead, scanning the space. "Which one?" She spun, her expression horrified at all the wooden doors. Looking for a sign, any sign, providing a prominent choice.

Something whizzed past Elle's ear, nicking the edge of it.

When she lifted her fingers to her lobe, a drop of warm blood beaded there. Leo looked behind, ducking down when he saw the arrow embedded in the ground a mere metre from them. "Bowman!"