Siege of Shadows (Effigies #2)(26)

Prince answered Blackwell with a deep scowl. As his wide jaw tightened, the skin around his neck and chin, loose from age, gave a slight tremor. “You called a press conference to prematurely disclose delicate information. The optics were bad enough with the Sect’s inability to bring Saul into custody. We directors have had to coordinate search teams for Saul across the globe while aiding governments in repairing the devastation he’s caused on top of dealing with phantom attacks. We are under enough pressure. Langley—”

Sibyl answered with a slight turn of her head.

“I know you’re up to this job. I oversaw your training in Philadelphia myself. I was the one who prepared you to replace Director Bradshaw as leader of the European Division after he died.”

He’d trained her. That might have explained why she still referred to him as “sir” even though they were technically of the same rank—why she listened to his rantings quietly instead of tearing him to shreds like I knew she could. It was either a seniority thing or a force of habit.

“I remember,” Sibyl said in a measured tone.

“When I, along with the other directors, agreed to the Council’s decision of putting you in charge of the Effigy initiative to capture Saul, I did so under the assumption that you would be able to handle the operation.”

“It was the Council’s decision, sir,” replied Sibyl coolly. “None of you had a choice to begin with.”

“But your management of the situation so far has only placed the Sect under a heightened scrutiny that we cannot afford right now while we are dealing with our own internal issues.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Sibyl said, and I’d never seen her more careful with her words. “I endeavored to stop the press conference, which should never have been held in the first place”—she glared at Blackwell—“the moment I got wind of it.”

“Which wasn’t soon enough.” He looked uncomfortable in his chair as he sat back and placed his hand on his desk as if it were all he could do to keep himself from trying to jump through the screen to get to us. “Not to mention your handling of the Effigies.”

Lake and I exchanged a glance. The four of us sat quietly at the long, rectangular table like we were told, but it looked like it was our turn for a scolding. When Sibyl had told us we were going to the briefing room, I’d expected more angry faces around the table, but it was just us and a host of empty seats under the blinding ceiling lights.

“My handling of the Effigies?” Sibyl repeated.

Blackwell, who looked amused as he watched the former teacher berate his former student, found a strand of his hair, twisting it around his finger. “Ah, yes, your handling of the girls,” he said. “Well, with your experience running the all-girls’ training facility in Botswana, the Council felt that you’d be able to relate to the Effigies better than any of us. And so they gave you the go-ahead to mold the girls’ public images.”

“But embracing the spotlight means training the girls to manage themselves in it,” said Prince. “Just like we need to manage the Sect’s public image.”

Chae Rin kicked me under the table, but I wasn’t about to be the one who interrupted the very mean, scary man yelling at us. I gritted my teeth.

“The Sect has had trust issues with the rest of the world for as long as I can remember. That didn’t start with this press conference.” Sibyl turned to Blackwell. “The bigger issue is that you seem to have gotten a taste for telling the media information they shouldn’t have.”

Sibyl’s glare would have made me squirm in my seat, but Blackwell only crossed his legs, amused.

“As the representative of the Council, it’s not unexpected that I might appear in front of the cameras.”

“Maybe. When you meet with foreign leaders. But giving out information on our operations is a sloppy move, and not the first you’ve made.”

“I would suggest you search your own house before you launch any accusations.” Blackwell leaned back in his chair. “It was under your watch that multiple agents helped Saul escape your custody.”

“It was Vasily Volkov, your personal agent, who led the charge of his escape,” Sibyl fired back.

Vasily. Both of my hands curled into fists atop the cold table. As an agent of the Sect, he would have been used to the battlefield, but he was far more violent than I ever thought possible, from cutting off a man’s finger to almost choking me to death in the backyard of Belle’s old foster home. I could still feel his rough fingers around my neck, could still see his fox grin and his long, faded blond hair grazing my face as he bent over me, straddling my body. My fingers twitched, aching to go to that spot on my neck, but I stayed still.

“Ex-agent,” Blackwell corrected. “Vasily has been dealt with. I have no need for traitors.”

“A traitor to you or to the Sect?”

I hadn’t even meant to speak. But the words flew out of my mouth regardless. I glared at Blackwell from my seat.

He looked shocked and almost insulted that I’d dared to enter the conversation between “grown-ups” without permission. “I beg your pardon, young girl?”

“Is Vasily a traitor to you or to the Sect? As I recall, when Vasily tried to kill me in France, he’d said he was only following orders. So whose orders was he following?”