-24-

Training continued for the next few days and Elle had assumed that Cerid had forgotten about the outside sessions she had asked for. She swigged from a flask of water, as he sheathed his blade and walked hers over to the side of the room. "Thanks for today," she said breathlessly when he returned.

His lips pulled up into a smirk. "Today's not over yet. Your first session with me starts now—come." Immediately he set off.

The assassin struggled to keep up with his brisk pace, and half felt like reminding him of her shorter legs to slow down. He led her through familiar passageways, the network of twisting hallways mapped out neatly in her mind.

Then they broke into unfamiliar territory, Cerid gripped her arm, pulling her forwards. Her ears pricked as laughter was thrown across the walls, chatter resounding from somewhere further inside. Her suspicions mounted when his long strides led them to a long hall, the stone floor had been scuffed under many passing feet. 

At the end lay a grand archway, engraved with patterns. As they drew closer, Elle squinted. The same drooping flower had been depicted, ushering them inside. The same flower she had seen on the door to the outside world.

Words had been carved into the pinnacle of the arch: Antechamber.

"DETRA needs some design pointers," she muttered as Cerid ducked under the curved opening. "Where are we going?" Her eyes flicked to a sign pinned on the wall, warning that the area was for DETRA's official agents alone, no recruits allowed.

He didn't answer, leading her through another few hallways and up some stairs. There, at the top, they stepped onto a wide balcony. Elle's brows furrowed, her curiosity pulling her to look over the edge. She recoiled when a bright light blinded her.

Once her eyes had adjusted, she peered over the edge again, mouth agape.

The assassin found herself leaning over a giant chamber. Shaped like a cylinder, when she peered upwards towards the dizzying height she couldn't even glimpse the ceiling. Candles upon candles burnt fiercely on every candelabrum, contrasting to the darkened DETRA she was used to—this new area was nothing but light.

Looking down, Elle could see the bottom floor of the vault. She didn't step away from the edge, but if one should fall they wouldn't survive the impact.

What fascinated her more than the immense scale of the room was the shaft of light in its centre. A beacon shone in the middle of the circular shape, careening towards the ceiling. Her eyes watered from staring at it for too long. Why did DETRA have a bloody beacon in the centre of their headquarters?

Balconies like the one they stood on had been built at different heights. If Elle squinted past the light stream, she could make out agents standing on them, swimming in the distorted brightness. Some stood in boxes, both ascending and descending along the walls of the cylinder, then moving horizontally inside holes and stations. Curious.

Cerid leant over the rail. "Welcome to the Vault," he said simply. "This is the main chamber of DETRA, running straight down its centre. I don't know how many levels there actually are. Recruits start on the lowest levels, then you work your way up to the surface."

"How long have we been underground for?"

He looked to her, unsure. "It's just for my peace of mind. Please."

"A week and a bit. The snowfall on your first elimination was one of the first of winter months. New year celebrations are underway."

She clamped her lips together. Back in Eryan, Elle had always spent new year's with Kade, yet she was miles underground and deprived of seeing the sky. "DETRA won't celebrate the coming seasons?" The assassin noted the absence of decorations.

"Most have no one to pray for."

A part of her wanted to ask whether he had anyone he prayed for, but she sealed her lips. Instead, she turned her attention to the other floors and balconies, watching assassins stride about. Then, a thought occurred to her. "Can I ask what the flower engraved over the arch means?"

His gaze slid to hers. "Old tales say those flowers collect secrets, listening to every passer-by with perfect recall. Why they're etched into the doorways here, I'm not certain."

In Sirimiri, they had been used as sacrificial means.

"Unusual decor choice." She commented. Cerid snorted, then directed her attention to the beam in the centre of the shaft. "The lustre ray of the Vault, no one knows the mechanics of how it shines down here, even when the sun or moon isn't overhead, it glows."

She leant over, reaching out but her fingers didn't come close. "Surely the person to ask would be your Imperial Heir?" Elle watched Cerid's reaction carefully.

"You'd be surprised at how little people like him know." Scoffing, he shaded his eyes to peer out.

"Have you ever met him?"

"A couple of times."

The Vault was discarded from her mind as she gripped his arm. "What does he look like?"

Cerid frowned. "Why would you want to know?"

"Oh! Just that everyone speaks of his utter handsomeness." Playing as if she were struck by a brilliant idea, Elle leant in. "Since you've met him, are those claims justified?"

Cerid's brows creased further. "I will not feed the petty rumour mill you're running." He looked down at her iron grip and pried off her fingers, scooting down his navy jacket. "If you win your place in DETRA, you'll meet him. You aren't trusted yet and information like that has to be earned."

Living with half-truths and blind missions for the first few years of her career, the Order's way of thinking was similar.

Voices rounded the corner. "Follow me," Cerid veered sharply out of the balcony She jogged beside him to keep up.

"I swear to the Gods, if this is some masterful way of getting me alone in a long-forgotten passage only to strangle me to death then there's a place in the fiery pit of Hell made just for you."

A smile tugged at his lips. "Right next to you, I'd assume?"

"Hardy-ha." The voices had faded behind them, but still Cerid guided her up a series of staircases. "You'd be surprised how many people want to kill me," she added. He gouged her expression, "I probably would."

The pair stopped at a rickety box by the side of the stairwell. The same box that she had spied agents using to shuttle between places A series of pulleys and ropes controlled by the agent leaning against the contraption. Elle watched as his head nodded, only to jerk awake as Cerid spoke.

"Did you take the night shift again, Boyo?"

Startled, the older man rubbed his eyes. "Oh, I—"

"I need a lift up to the opening."

"Certainly, right away, sir." He nodded profusely, stumbling over to the pulleys and began to yank them. Elle couldn't figure out the reasoning behind the order of controls he cranked. She cringed when his blackened stained hands went to his face to rub away the remaining tiredness, streaking marks across his forehead and cheeks. Grubby fingers scratched silver stubble as his other hand hovered over a particular handle before shrugging and twisting it anyway.

"This is faster than the stairs?" She muttered, reluctantly eyeing the unsteady machine and the even more unstable Boyo manning it. Cerid watched where her gaze went, to the man acting like a gleeful child, tripping as he went, pulling and twisting.

"Boyo's harmless. I've known the man all my life. He's never set a course wrong."

Boyo stepped back, satisfied with whatever route he had set them on. Then, remembering something, he pulled a wooden object from one of his deep pockets. A children's toy: made from wood and twisted metal in the shape of a horse. He balanced it on one of the large cogs with a proud smile.

Wary as ever, her eyes darted back to the box. "There's always a first."

Cerid's eyes met hers and a boyish grin spread across his features. "Do you trust me?"

"Do I have a choice?" Elle examined the contraption closer. The machine wasn't updated to the standard of the improved ones she had seen scaling the Vault earlier, with no windows, only the skeletal frame built with the floor and roof installed. Evidently, it hadn't been used in a while.

Not satisfying her damned question, the smug bastard merely unlatched the opening and held out his hand. "Too frightened?"

That was it. Elle didn't take his outstretched hand when stepping inside, pressing herself against the rock facing wall. On closer inspection, the frame had been woven together with sturdy branches. Cerid latched the door.

Elle almost lost her balance when the box started with a jerk, beginning the slow climb upwards.

Boyo stood beneath them, waving maniacally. The blonde beside her chuckled, lifting his hand in farewell. "He's been loyal for many years to my family." The assassin just watched the man shrink smaller until he faded into the general grey of the stone agency.

"This can't be safe," she muttered as they climbed the Vault wall.

"Not entirely...no." He enjoyed her discomfort a little too much.

The problem with the design of the box was that her eyes couldn't wander far before of a reminder of their height slapped her into sense. Old ropes don't hold forever. The jolting and rocky journey didn't help her anxiety about falling out the damned thing. The only device stopping the frame from gaping completely open was the bar at waist height, which she gripped with one hand.

"Does this make you scared?" Cerid, seeing her discomfort, started to bounce around the confined space. With his weight the contraption swung and moved with him. Elle gripped onto the bar tighter, whacking him with her free hand. "I'm frightened of falling. Not heights. There's a difference."

"Fear is only a way of thinking." Grinning mischievously, Cerid unlatched the door, ignoring Elle's loud protests. He sat, dangling his legs over the lethal drop, a wild glint in his eyes. He scooted along, patting the space beside him.

She wasn't about to be shown up by a pompous fool, so slowly, she lowered herself next to him. Knuckles white as she gripped the platform and looking over the edge, eyes wide. "You're mad."

He just laughed, turning to her. His nose almost touched hers, "Am I?" Cool breath fanned her skin. Elle froze, heart thumping so loud she feared he'd hear it from their close proximity. A voice echoed in the back of her mind: why wasn't he moving away? She should pull away—

Cerid swallowed, his throat bobbing, then reluctantly edged away. Had it been her imagination or had he leant towards her? Now, the hem of his shirt seemed more fascinating than looking her in the eye. Shaking out of her haziness, Elle slid back on her ass away from the perilous fall. "Where are we going?"

"You're the one who agreed to the terms of these sessions." Cerid ran a hand through his hair, "not much longer now."

He tucked his legs inside when the lift shuddered to a halt. Elle looked up, finding them still on the wall of the Vault, but their position was obscured by a large overhanging chunk of rock. No one could see the box, nor the ledge that it had arrived to.

Her mentor marched onwards past gilded candelabra into a hallway. It was in the golden glow of the candles which one could appreciate the framed paintings lining the walls. Each framed in intricate gold, dark curtains hanging either side of each masterpiece. Her mind whirred as she slowed her steps. Why would DETRA keep such a grand display tucked up in a secretive floor of the Vault?

Each painting had a plaque engraved with the date underneath it. She walked to the closest one, tracing the fine work gingerly. Depicted in the centre were two grand thrones, cushioned in navy and white. The Imperial balcony had been decorated, sparing no expense. She recognised the image from some of DETRA's propaganda she had seen. A symbol of their power and status.

Blowing away the dust from the plaque, she squinted, trying to make out the engraving.

Cerid had noticed her distraction, halting his fast pace and walking to her side. The assassin whipped her head around. "Are these portraits of the Heirs?"