chapter thirty-eight

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Cerid wasn't there when she entered the fighting hall. Immediately after scouring the long, rectangular hall for familiar smoky eyes, her eyes were drawn to the chalkboard where the pairs were already written. She blew out a breath when she saw Hana's name scribbled next to hers. At least her first fight wouldn't be too hard.

Mather clapped his hands. "Go find your fighting rings. Select your weapon." He barked to the recruits. "Don't make me look incompetent in front of the Imperial Party."

Her eyes darted to the rafters in case there was a higher balcony she had missed. But no, the Imperial Party hadn't visited their section yet. The matches would be run throughout the day, and it was the Imperial Party's job to visit each and every section. Cerid would arrive soon, but not as her mentor or lover. Someone detached, formal, the Imperial Heir title she had grown to hate.

Elle shook her head at herself. Now was not the time to be pining over the Imperial Heir.

Let's get this shit-show started.

Hana's fiery locks bobbed into view. She crossed her arms, looking Elle dead in the eye. "If you just conceded now it would save us a lot of time."

The assassin smirked. "It would save me a lot of time. However I actually want to bash your face in," she shrugged. Cerid would have told her to get a lid on the swagger and just beat her in three or four moves. She knew he was right. Stepping over the painted ring, she unsheathed Ravaryn from her side.

Hana and Rand's colluded whisperings continued until Mather bellowed again for them to take their places. The recruit send the redhead forward with a heavy slap on the back. Baring his teeth, Rand's icy orbs met her own.

Elle's long fingers snaked around her dagger's hilt. Every nick, every indent in the blade she knew by heart.

An overseer strode to their ring, standing with a stopwatch in hand. He glanced up, face impassive. Rand strode off to his own match. Once everyone was in position and the silence took hold, Elle's heart picked up. Blood pumped through her legs, to her fingers.

"Begin!" The cry to start had barely broken from Mather's lips before she surged forwards, spinning to club Hana around the head with the butt of her dagger. Hopefully hard enough to fracture the bone on her temple. The girl stumbled but didn't fall. Elle danced away again, grinning.

Regaining her footing, Hana clutched her own dagger until her knuckles whitened. A nice bruise would flower on the side of her head from the blow, Elle thought with some satisfaction. It would serve as a reminder of how badly she had lost.

Hana released another pathetic sound as she landed another hard blow. A wicked smile crept across her features. Her opponent was lagging behind, her body turning frantically to meet each blow. Their daggers couldn't clash like swords, but instead the jabbing movements required close combat. They moved too swiftly for Elle to throw Ravaryn into her chest.

Another slice to her cheek. Hana touched blood trickling down her face, hissing.

Elle sucked in a breath. "Oh. That looks painful." She then grinned, wiping the blood off the tip of the blade. Riled up, Hana launched into the fight once more. Teetering as she approached Elle, it was all too easy to step out of the way and push her down. The girl almost stepped out of the circle herself.

She landed a punch to Elle's jaw. The assassin didn't register it hurting.

Three minutes into the match and Elle spied the holes in Hana's patchwork defence. It was fortunate, really, that the hard-hitting blow to the head had dizzied Hana significantly. Less than a minute later the girl provided the perfect opportunity, allowing Elle to place two perfectly aimed blows. First, a kick to her lower gut. The girl automatically doubled over.

Seizing the moment, Elle sprang forward and stabbed Hana in the chest, barrelling her over in the process. Wrenching the dagger from her vice-like grip, the assassin left Ravaryn buried. Crimson-red patch bled into the white fabric of her shirt. Quiet whimpers slipped from her lips as Elle pinned her to the floor, restraining her legs. She held the knife to her throat.

"Do you yield?" She intoned drily. Hana struggled, clamping her mouth shut. Gods, she didn't have all day. "Do you yield?" Elle brought her face close to her opponent's, growling the question.

Hana's eyes were wide and unfocused, dizzy from the head injury.

"Yield!" Elle shouted, pressing the edge of the blade so that it nicked her soft skin. Hana's face drained of colour, turning a pasty grey. The assassin didn't stop applying pressure until her eyes rolled back into her head. Only then did she release her hold. The biting metal had made shallow cuts in her neck, a red necklace.

A smattering of applause from the onlookers made her turn. She stood, the realisation that she had won settled over her. A step closer to the top three. Right on time, the doors burst open with a servant striding inside. In a snooty voice he announced the Imperial Party's arrival. Heads turned as the party began their obnoxious entrance. Each member wore a deep blue cape, pinned with a simple silver brooch.

The servant who announced their presence looked upon the matches with a disapproving eye, as if he expected the recruits to pause mid-fight to properly acknowledge the visitors.

Someone lifted Hana out of the ring. Elle stopped them, pulling Ravaryn from her chest. She needed her blade.

Cerid blended in with them well, she remarked to herself when studying the party further. His honey hair had been parted down the middle, leaving the odd strand to fall in front of his misty eyes. Those eyes, scouring the room. When they landed on Elle, his mouth tugged upwards slightly. 

There was no indication from Holten or his mother that he was family or the heir to DETRA. Everyone apart from the recruits knew his identity, sworn to secrecy to protect him. To stop unsuccessful recruits, sour at their failure to reveal his identity to others.

Again, tradition.

She had to admit he looked handsome with his shiny boots and crisp uniform. Different from the standard DETRA clothing with which she was so familiar. Now, he looked regal. The born Imperial Heir, donning black trousers and a white collared shirt. Over his arm a longer jacket, a similar colour to his cape.

Elle tore her gaze away from him as Mather approached, bowing to Holten Blackwood. He stood at the front, Guardian sheathed proudly at his side. Instead, she watched as the chalkboard names were crossed out. A line struck through Hana's and it was no surprise that she saw Tan and Rand going through to the next round.

Four of them remained. Two fights. Both she and Tan had won their first fights so would battle, whilst Rand took on a great burly agent. She prayed that he would lose or, if anything, sustain some injuries from the man.

After a few minutes of conferring, Holten waved for the party to disperse and mingle with those watching the event. His eyes followed his son as he left the cluster, striding confidently to the board. To her. Holten betrayed no outward emotion, but she would have been a fool not to suppose it was irritation that flickered across his features.

"Everything alright, sawdust?" He stood next to her, careful to maintain distance.

"I'm perfectly fine."

He noted the lack of injuries, smirking. "Was the first match not up to your standards?"

"Not quite," she snorted. "I knocked the stubborn girl unconscious."

Chuckling, he looked at the chalkboard where Tan's name had been written beside hers. She hadn't felt the need to tell him much about her petty problems with the other recruit but Cerid had witnessed Tan's skill for himself.

"Remember what I've taught you," he murmured, eyes flicking to the other names. "Keep in mind that after this one you'll be fighting one of them." He eyed the recruits, stretching by the rings. "Rand or the other, depending on who wins."

It took some willpower not to lean into him, to hug him for good luck. Since when have I ever needed luck? A facade of formalities worn like a gown and mask. His fingers brushed hers and the touch sent a zinging current up her arm. "I'll be rooting for you, sawdust."

Elle rolled her shoulders back and shot him a grin. "I should think so."

#

The assassin cracked her knuckles as Tan entered the ring, basking in the attention of the onlookers. She cracked a feral smile and bowed mockingly. Elle remained upright. Perfectly still apart from her fingers moving along Ravaryn's hilt, squeezing it three times.

On the floor they would be evenly matched. Tan was fast but Elle was faster. As soon as the shrill whistle rang out she darted forward as swift as an asp, jabbing at Tan's chest. The girl stepped out of the way mere milliseconds before the dagger could hit home. Ravaryn nicked her collarbone and successfully tore her shirt.

Tan returned the favour. Elle saw the gleam of her blade slicing down on her head and twisted out of the way, turning to shove her opponent from behind. The girl stumbled forwards with the effort of the swing, then scrambled to her feet. Whirling around one another, the fight became a work of quick reactions and thrusts.

Cerid's mantras that he had ingrained pounded in her head, from her footwork to each swing. More controlled meant more aware. Her surroundings had blurred into nothing, the chants and flashes of golden coins being passed around somewhere far away.

Wildly slashing her dagger, Tan managed to strike the back of her right hand as Elle switched Ravaryn between them. A good assassin can fight with either hand. Mikel had seen to that. Tan's strikes were sloppy. Aiming for her wrists would make Ravaryn clatter to the floor, not hands.

Elle ducked a swing, panting. "What do you think is going to happen after this match?"

Eyes blazing, Tan ripped around. "I will win. I will take first place." The number one recruits would be held in higher regard, allowed to go on specialised missions and the like. Had the girl really got it into her head that Rand, of all people, would just let her win? Elle said as much between strikes.

"I trust him more than you." Tan hissed.

Elle skid across the ring, going in for another jab. "Trust doesn't exist."

"Shut your mouth you bitch." Elle could have sworn Cerid took a sharp intake of breath when the insult spilled from Tan's lips. A trickle of blood from her hand ran down her fingers and onto the floor. She didn't want to admit that it made wrapping her fingers around her weapon harder.

"I've been called worse by people more intimidating than a recruit." She retorted.

Tan swept her leg out, knocking Elle to the floor. The women grappled for dominance, flipping over and over. Elle tried to shove her off, over the painted line. It would be automatic victory. Tan laughed as she slammed her head down. "Coward," she said coldly. Nails scratched at her cheeks, drawing blood. The punches made her teeth sing.

She turned away, her cheek pressed on the cool floor to protect half of her face.

The prick of a blade being trailed along the side of her face made her growl. The recruit who she had shared her bunk with, the gossiping curly-haired girl who seemed more interested in boys than blades had gone. Now all that was left was an icy, unforgiving agent, hell bent on killing her.

Elle couldn't swallow her nightmares. Discarded from the agency, you'll only be remembered as a pathetic coward. Mikel had said weeks ago.

Her fingers twitched, Ravaryn was just out of reach. Tan leered down at her, "would the almighty Vhiena like to admit something before her defeat? I saw Cerid in the Imperial Party and a part of me was impressed. I mean, when you go for a guy, why not go for one with power?"

She didn't know he was the heir.

Rage bubbled inside of her, making her stomach coil. Tan thought she was a petty slut, some girl who had clawed her way to the top on anything but her own merit. She was about to witness the real Vhiena Portyr when she slammed her to the ground.

"I am many things," Elle muttered, glaring up at the recruit. "I am a cheat, a thief and a liar." She almost choked on the last word, a certain honey-haired man flashing in her mind. "But I will never be a coward." The assassin enjoyed every drawn out word.

Tan raised a brow just as her finger touched her dagger. In one lightning-fast motion, she bucked Tan upwards, freeing her arm to bring the dagger to her neck. Rolling completely out from under her, Tan was forced to withdraw the dagger. She smirked at their new positions. Ravaryn sliced a clean cut along her cheek.

Coppery blood filled her mouth when she licked her chapped lips. The assassin knew when she bared her teeth, onlookers would see them stained red. Discoloured bruises flowered over her jaw from Tan's strikes. Elle restrained her arms and discarded Ravaryn to the side out of reach. Mere cuts weren't going to end the fight and she intended to finish it.

She leaned forwards, wrapping both of her hands around Tan's throat. The pain she felt across her face ebbed away at the sight of the woman's eyes bulging. After the match she would have a necklace of pretty bruises to show off. Courtesy of Elle.

Tan grunted as she tried to shove Elle off but the assassin was heavier than the slight girl.

Her victory was slipping away and Tan knew it. Unfazed, Elle glared down at her. "Do you want me to render you unconscious or will you concede?"

Tan didn't break her stare. "Damn you," she choked.

Elle just winked.

Her movements started to slow. The assassin wouldn't be satisfied with choking her as defeat so Elle got off the woman, huffing a dramatic sigh. She even went as far as offering a hand to help her stand. Blood ran down Tan's face as she stood shakily, snarling at the offer. Elle grinned as she faced her opponent.

Tan received another two punches to the face and the audible crunch of her nose breaking before Elle charged.

She slammed her shoulder into the woman, sending her backwards and out of the ring. There she fell, pure hatred swirling in her eyes as the caller shouted the verdict over the shouting crowd. Vhiena was proclaimed victorious.

Elle limped back over to Ravaryn. The cheers and various groans from the onlookers buzzing background noise.

A second later Cerid was crouched by her side. He clasped her left hand, pulling her into a hug. She didn't have the energy to protest. Onlookers slowly dispersed to the other match, Rand and his opponent's grunts rang across the hall.

The heir said something to her but she didn't listen. His brows creased as he pulled away, snapping her back into reality. "Is your hand okay?" Cerid asked again.

It still bled. "What? Oh—yes, I think so. Just a scratch."

"It doesn't look like just a scratch." He reached for her right hand but she hid it behind her back. "I'm fine. I wouldn't lie to you." The words tasted bitter on her tongue.

Elle's lip bled, her jaw might have been fractured. Bruises on her shins, cuts along her arms where Tan hadn't missed. Her head pounded. She took the few minutes between matches to refuel, gulping down the water that Cerid offered. He didn't leave her side.

Eventually Rand's match ended. His face was bloodied and the man he battled had managed to stab and slice his torso. Rand had won. Now Elle and him were to fight whilst Tan and the fourth agent fought for third place. But the onlookers had already crowded around the main ring where the final fight would be taking place.

Rand had a cool compress pressed to his forehead, drinking water as medics patched him up as best they could. Cerid had waved over a medic as soon as her match had ended who couldn't do much else than clean the cuts. Stitches would rip.

Before the match began Rand strode towards her, a cocky grin sat on his features.

She drew herself taller, jutting out her chin. Prepared for threats, his arrogant talk—anything but the hand he outstretched to shake. "Let's finish this decently, darling." He purred. 

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