And that worried her more than she wanted to admit.
A sigh from behind her pulled her from her thoughts. She blinked, refocusing on the path ahead. The sewer tunnel stretched long and dark, their footsteps echoing off the damp walls. Murkywater sloshed beneath their boots, the surface rippling with the occasional skitter of something unseen.
Violette glanced at Symond. He was tense, his jaw clenched, his fists curling and uncurling at his sides. She had seen this frustration brewing in him since the moment they left the manor.
“This is about the mission,” she said simply.
Symond huffed. “You mean the missionIwas supposed to lead? The one Rell decided to hijack because he justhadto get his revenge?” He kicked a rock. “Yeah. Maybe it is.”
Violette sighed, running a hand through her nearly white hair. She had seen this coming.
Symond had worked hard to prove himself. She had seen it, hadacknowledgedit, had even put him in charge of certain aspects of the job to let him step into a leadership role. And then, at the last second, Rell had taken over.
She understoodwhyRell had done it. Trinton had been personal. It hadneededto be him.
But she also understood Symond. And to him, this had been more than just a mission. This had beenhismoment.
“You did well,” she told him, her voice steady. “You planned the approach, handled the guards, executed the strategy. That wasn’t nothing, Symond.”
He snorted. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t the one who got the kill, was I?”
Vye rolled her eyes. “You think one assassination makes you valuable? That’s not how it works. The Hive doesn’t care who lands the final strike, they care that the job is done.”
Symond fell silent at that, his steps slowing just slightly.He waslisteningnow.
She pressed on.
“Rell stole the moment from you,” she admitted, meeting his gaze. “I won’t deny that. And yeah, it wasn’t fair. But youdidprove yourself, whether you want to see it or not.”
His pace slowed, his frown deepening. She could tell he was turning her words over in his head, trying to find the catch.
"You’re still rough," Violette continued. "You’ve got raw talent, but raw talent doesn’t mean shit if you don’t refine it."
She let her words settle before adding, “When we get back to headquarters, I’ll set you up with one of the instructors. They’ll help hone what you already have,ifyou’re willing to put in the work.”
The effect was immediate.
Symond straightened slightly, his posture shifting, that familiar edge of arrogance returning—but this time, it wasn’t frustration fueling it. It waspride.
For the first time since they left, he grinned. “You think I need training?”
“Iknowyou do,” she shot back, her tone dry.
His grin widened, but he didn’t argue.
Good.
She turned her focus back to the tunnels, picking up the pace slightly. The sooner they got out of this stinking sewer, the better.
They kept moving, the tunnel narrowing as the stagnant air pressed thick against them. The water level was higher here, brushing against their boots, sending ripples that disappeared into the darkness ahead.
“So… what do you know about Elora?”
Symond didn’t react at first, his gaze fixed on the uneven stone path ahead. She watched him carefully, gauging his silence. If he was still bitter, still clinging to whatever resentment he held for her, he would’ve scoffed or thrown out some sarcastic remark. But he didn’t.
“You didn’t know about the shifting,” she continued, “but you knew her. You were at The Institute together.”
Still, nothing.
