-26-

She marvelled at the high ceiling in comparison with the dingy passage. A pool of water swirled lazily in the centre of the cavern, shining like a molten mirror. Light dappled off the surface, moving with the ripples. The assassin looked to the rock formation in the cave, eyes widening when she saw that, embedded into the stone were hundreds of gems. Stones like shards of glass which winked softly.

The small lake was uncommonly clear. She crouched by its edge, trying to gauge its depth. Dipping a finger in the blue aqua, feeling its cool caress almost made her sigh. Cerid's secret place was stunning. Streams ran down fissures from the ceiling, disappearing into the underground.

Her companion stood still as she explored. The gemstones were perfectly shaped, all sharp edges. She could see her distorted reflection in their surfaces. Upon closer inspection, they cast coloured rays in the light. Light. Immediately, her head swivelled to the roof of the cavern, where holes and openings allowed shafts of sunlight inside.

"We're...at the surface?"

Cerid pointed to the holes leading to the outside world. "This is one of the lowest points of land, about a mile below Lorel's height still. When the timing is right and the sun is perfectly aligned, it bathes this place in its radiance."

Cocooned in the solitude of the cavern, she could see why he liked it so. A world away from DETRA's stony grip. "When did you pass DETRA's training?" She asked, plopping down on the ground.

He sat beside her. "I was young, no older than sixteen. Let's just say DETRA is a family career." She couldn't mistake his grimace.

"You're not a fan of DETRA?"

"Not of this lifestyle. Killing has never sat quite right with me, although I seem to be quite talented at it. Constantly having to look over your shoulder, never trusting those you work with. It grows tiring."

Elle propped herself up on her elbows, head cocked to the side. "What would you do with your life, instead?"

"I'd go somewhere quiet, away from Lorel. A modest life, a family of some kind, surrounded by people I love. Those luxuries DETRA cannot provide." His wish for a mundane life wasn't particularly appealing to Elle. He wouldn't be able to escape DETRA's clutches entirely—she didn't need to voice that opinion, as his eyes reflected as much. "I realise that is a fanciful and unrealistic dream for someone like me. I'll forever be stuck behind these transparent bars."

Bitterness coated his tone. Lightening the mood, she elbowed him and quirked a small smile. "Really trying to persuade me to join this cause, huh?"

"At least we'll both be dissatisfied together, we can find solace in that."

His sombre answer had her laughing. Cerid watched her, lips tugging upwards.

"Remember when I compared you to a lady?" Amusement lit his eyes. "With a cackle like that I couldn't have been more wrong!"

The assassin gasped loudly, splashing him from the pool. He returned the favour, his big hands working to drench her. Elle feigned outrage, edging closer to the water, both of her hands in to splatter him completely. Before she could splash him, Cerid shoved her from behind.

Crossing into the lake, she opened her eyes. Hair billowed in the crystal-clear waters, obscuring her view. Angling up to the light rippling on the surface, she kicked towards it, coming up bad-mouthing the man who chuckled to himself at the sight of her.

"We need to work on that colourful mouth of yours." He goaded, tutting at her crude word choices.

"Piss off!"

She dragged herself out onto the rocky bank, glowering. "You look like a drowned rat when soaked," he called over. Slicking strands of wet hair back, Elle ignored him as she stood.

"Now, for training." Cerid bent into a fighting stance, shifting his weight. Really? She was about to protest her wetness but he launched into action. No weapons or flashing silver, only sharp minds and reflexes played a part in their dance. Choreographed destruction ensued as the assassins flowed and rippled to the other's moves. Elle's teal eyes blazed with competition, pushing herself to go harder, faster. Another loss wouldn't bode well for her ego.

They clashed, spun—then clashed again.

Just when they fell into a rhythm of kicks and pounces, Cerid changed the pace. Winking, he sprinted away from her like an arrow released from a bow. She followed, hot on his heels. One second he was a fingertip away and the next her legs had been knocked out from underneath her.

He had flung himself over her head.

Landing on the ground in an aching heap, she swore at her defeat. A brief touch to her temples revealed a small head injury. Hissing, she continued her bad language as two Cerid's asked if she was alright. The cavern spun around her. She was fine—the only thing pummelled was her pride.

"What in all Hells was that," she hissed. Elle refused to stop asking until he explained the manoeuvre to her, that happened too fast for her to process. Cerid gripped her forearm, helping her sit up. "I flipped, ensuring my limbs were out of grabbing reach. Then, in midair over your head I twisted, extending my leg next to the skull and—"

Crack.

She watched his hands intently as they reenacted the move. He tore a strip of fabric from his shirt, pressing it to the wound. Elle leant away from him, waving his hands away. "It's fine, it's fine."

"Hold still." Was his only reply. "That's an order." True, his tone morphed into that similar to a high ranked general, rather than an assassin. She stilled, allowing him to press it to her head.

"I don't think you're in the position to give me orders," she grumbled under her breath. Then, louder. "Could you teach me the move?"

"Another time. There's a big element of trusting yourself, throwing your entire body weight up at speed, then clocking your opponent over the head. All reason must be released, otherwise your brain will never fully commit to the movement." He continued dabbing.

"I trust myself," She interjected, eyes narrowing slightly.

He huffed a laugh but said nothing. Cerid still gripped her shoulder, keeping her still. His honey hair fell into his eyes as he inspected her wound closer. "Who taught you?" She broke the silence once more.

"My father." His tone was harsh—Elle couldn't tell whether it held an edge of sadness as well. Satisfied with stopping the blood loss, Cerid's eyes met hers. Almost as if he read her mind, he added "he's not dead. We simply don't have the time to train anymore. Those days are behind me."

"So he was in DETRA as well?"

Something caught between a laugh and a scoff escaped Cerid's lips. "DETRA is a family business, of sorts."

She tilted her head, eyes flashing with curiosity. "You didn't have a choice to join the guild?" The circumstances in which she joined the Order flickered in the back of her mind, that feeling of restriction all too familiar.

Cerid looked at her, brows drawing together for a moment before his expression smoothed. "Everyone has a choice. The fates have placed me here, so here I will serve."

Elle, for once, didn't pry further. She followed his figure, pretending not to focus on the muscles rippling in his shirt as he stood and shrugged on his jacket. "You have problems we are going to fix. Bottling emotions, tactical thinking and developing the qualities DETRA are looking for." He headed into the shaft. "Overall, you did well today. I won't go so easy on you next time."

At his approval, she grinned. Internally, she shook her head at herself. Why did Cerid's stupid opinion matter so much? Before following, Elle glanced at the magical cave bathed in a blue light, savouring its sereneness. Then, with her uniform damp and clinging to her skin, she headed back into the darkness.