Rimo Tor-Narun was a complete cûnt and make no mistake.

Since his win in the training yard, he'd been nigh on impossible. It was all well and good for The Grim to lash the error of pride into the novices until the backs of their thighs bled, but the likes of Tor-Narun believed they were above such rules. And besides, he was smart enough to cage his pride whenever the Commander was on hand with his batak whip, and would instead save the self-congratulatory brogboar shit that poured out of his pretty mouth for his fellow novices.

Being paired with Rimo for patrol duties was starting to feel like a torture, and Juda couldn't help but wonder if the dead gods were punishing him for failing to control himself after his meeting with the witch. The only desire he should have felt was the kind that involved his blade, not the kind that had him on his knees, picturing her crying out his name, instead of Estella. His rage should have been locked away, restrained until the time was right when he could fully unleash it on Ban-Keren, not wasted on a witch who'd threatened and humiliated him.

Patrolling the mid echelon seemed a pointless task too. With tensions running high, Juda couldn't understand why they hadn't been sent to the slums, but it seemed the King was keen to ensure the nobles felt safe and protected – and well they might need it when Grimefell discovered Ban-Keren was to deny them the Dreynian water.

Until then, Juda had no choice but to stay on watch with Rimo and hope the bastard tripped and fell on his own scimitar. He'd already imagined killing him countless times since they'd left the novice barracks. Coming up with imaginative ways to disembowel Tor-Narun was at least taking the sting off how fucking painful it all was.

'Not long, I wager,' Rimo said, as they walked not far from the point at which the King's Library intersected with the Druvarian Coffer, where the novice's father, Benal Tor-Narun presided over the Banker's Council. 'Two more cycles, three at the very most, and I'll be advanced to the King's Guard. You see if I don't.'

Juda stifled a frustrated sigh and resisted the urge to glance up at Roth's tower. He'd rather have been dangling from the twisted turrets with one sweaty hand than listening to Rimo's drivel, but short of thrusting his blade through the brat's throat, he was stuck with this until eventide.

'Of course,' Rimo bleated on. 'I'm sure my father will speed up the process. A sizeable donation to The Grim should do the trick.'

Juda pulled up his hood as the skies grumbled overhead, their growing unrest dulling the midtide sun. 'The Grim cannot be bargained with. You know that as well as I.'

Rimo shot him a look of amused disbelief. 'Everyone can be bargained with, Vikaris. Enough coin can buy a man whatever he pleases – power, possessions, women. My father has been doing that his whole life.'

Juda wanted to tell poor deluded Rimo that it wasn't just women that his father bought and that it certainly wasn't power he sought when he was on all fours getting his arse flogged by the courtesans he paid for the pleasure, but instead remained silent. All in good time.

'Trust me, even Commander Abel Grim isn't above a bit of extra weight for his coin purse, even if he likes to pretend otherwise.'

Rimo smoothed back the braids on either side of his head and pulled the band tight that held his long hair, admiring himself in the reflection of the glass of the Coffer's window. A thin, silvery scar pulled tight on the square edge of his jaw on the other side – the side that Rimo didn't like to look at in the mirror. Juda had seen him in his cell, the novice's head slowly turning to catch it in the glass, eyes barely daring to look, trembling fingers hovering just over the puckered flesh. It had been hard to identify the novice's weaknesses in the training yard, but his pride in his own beauty was definitely something Juda planned to exploit, if ever they were matched in the bloody square.

'Don't be so sure of that, Tor-Narun. Besides, I'd much rather be advanced for my own merit, than for how much gold my father can grease The Grim's palms with.'

Rimo halted his step, his pretty face twisting with disgust. 'You don't have much of a choice, orphan. I shan't imagine the Master Librarian job pays well, after all. We all know the only reason you made novice was because of your guardian's experience in serving His Most Exalted.'

'And yet, I am still here, despite not having the good fortune of birth and privilege such as yours, brat.' Juda turned to face him. Rimo really was far too ridiculously beautiful for the Order. Juda smiled as he thought about shattering the novice's nose with his gloved fist. Crushing his face under his boot. 'Tell me, how much of your father's coin did you wager on my demise, Rimo? More than Terrick Bo-Dreven did before I tore out his innards and punctured his weeping heart with my blade?'

The flicker of nerves that crossed Rimo's face did so only fleetingly, before the novice recovered as if it had never been there at all. Juda had to begrudgingly hand it to Tor-Narun. There wasn't many of the novices who could face him and not look like their côcks has shrivelled up into their bodies, but Rimo was doing a fair job of seeming unmoved.

'Terrick was never worthy of his vows; we all know that.'

Rimo reached out and clapped a hand on Juda's shoulder. Any who might have witnessed the scene, would have been forgiven for thinking it an oddly jovial exchange between Highguards, something not often seen considering the training that turned them into stone and death. Juda recognised the challenge for what it was, just as he was aware of how their hands both hovered over their own scimitars.

'Take no courage from your defeat of the shipmaster's son, orphan. It was a hollow victory, easily gained. Any one of us could have done the same. I will give you credit however. You have fared far longer than we all wagered you would, but you will not be The Grim's pet for much longer. After all, the Serpent Order is no place for the flea-infested rats of Grimefell. It is a noble duty for noble men. By Ban-Keren.'

Juda glanced at the hand gripping his shoulder. 'That hand is far too pretty, Rimo. I'll look forward to the tide when I can cut it free in the bloody square and use it as an ornament from which to hang my cloak. By Ban-Keren.'

Tor-Narun laughed it off, his eyes flicking to something beyond Juda's sight. 'Talking of rats,' he murmured, gesturing with the slightest nod of his head.

Juda followed the direction of the novice's stare and his world flipped sideways, as if he had lost his grip from Roth's tower and was plummeting towards the ground.

The witch walked the street by the Library, pulling an empty trader's cart behind her as she weaved through the crowd.

For a moment, he could barely catch his breath.

The short cloak she wore would do little to ward off the oncoming storm and her attire hugged her figure, a strange choice thought Juda, considering how trade runners were often targeted by thieves and vagabonds. Attracting the interest of opportunist cut-throats seemed like folly, and Juda already knew the witch was smarter than the average slum-rat. There had to be more to this than met the eye – a lover in the mid-echelon perhaps.

He swallowed down the bitter taste that flooded his mouth.

'Come,' Rimo said, and without a word, Juda fell into step beside him, his heart screaming loud in the chasm of his chest.

The witch would recognise him. There was no doubt in his mind. Would she speak? Would she reveal what she knew or hold her tongue? He could not risk it.

Trailing behind her, the Highguards had no problem with the crowd, who instinctively moved out of their way, casting their gaze elsewhere. No one sought out the attention of the Serpent Order. Much better to remain unseen and unnoticed.

Juda reluctantly mirrored the pace of his fellow novice, his gaze fixed upon the figure of the witch.

It was as they traced her path, drawing ever closer, that Juda noticed a sudden change in her gait. Attuned to those barely perceptible movements in the training yard, the ones that could signify a change in an opponent's plan of attack, Juda knew that the Naiad sensed their presence, or at least, had become aware she was being watched. There was a slight stiffening of her spine, a lift in her shoulders, that lengthened her stride. She was doing her best not to quicken her tread. To appear as she had before. But Juda could see it.

Before she turned the corner into the next street, Rimo called out.

'Halt, trader. By Ban-Keren.'

Juda felt the crowd melting away, a collective pull as they pretended not to see the woman who had stopped, her grip tightening around the handle of her cart. Rather her than them. Better anyone but them.

The witch did not turn as they approached, something Juda was thankful for as Rimo moved in front of her and Juda hung back, feigning inspection of her clearly empty cart.

'What's your business here, girl?' Rimo was close. Too close. Juda glanced at the novice, tugging his hood further over his face and scanning the area, irritated by how Tor-Narun's gaze raked over the witch's form.

'I'm a trade runner.' Her tone was hard. Biting. Not the meek, subservient response the Order were used to.

'I can see that,' Rimo replied, his scowl deepening. 'But that's not what I asked. What's your business here? Who do you work for?' His hand was resting on the leather-bound handle of his scimitar.

The witch's hesitation was her first mistake. She didn't want to tell them, which meant either she was no trade runner at all or there was another reason she did not want to reveal her employer.

Rimo stepped closer still and she retreated, knocking the cart into Juda's ankle. Juda moved quickly, side-stepping so that he could appear to be joining Rimo in his intimidation, when really he sought only to block the other novice's advance.

'Watch your step, girl,' Juda warned, invading her space so intimately that his body almost touched hers, barring Rimo's view as best he could.

The Naiad looked up into Juda's face.

Restraint, Juda, his mother whispered. A calm heart will never betray you.

She saw him. Knew him. Yet one flicker of recognition, a hint of panic, and it was gone.

The breeze picked up her scent, the faint tang of sea salt carried upon the air.

Speak. For fuck's sake, say something, you fool.

'Answer the question and quick, before we have need to open your throat.'

The fire in her eyes was killing him. He needed her to say something.

'Forgive me, noble Highguard,' she replied, softer now, even though the challenge in her steady gaze was unmistakable. She sought to mock him. Taunt him. One look into his face had told her everything she needed to know. If he'd wanted to expose her secret he would have done so already, but he couldn't do that without his secret being laid bare also.

And the bitch knew it.

'I work for the Trade Boss, Gaten Tyran. I'm here to run a deal for one of the merchants.'

She was lying. Juda could see it, the false words snaking out of her mouth, like poison on her tongue.

'Gaten Tyran?' Rimo closed in, his eyes narrowing. 'I know Tyran's runners. You're not one of them.'

Fuck. Juda could have groaned out loud at her next mistake.

'I'm new.'

'You're new? They all say they're new, narrag.' Rimo unhooked his scimitar from his belt, snagged the clasp of her cloak with the tip and sliced it clean through. The cape fell from her shoulders. 'And you're not dressed at all like a runner.'

The cut Juda had inflicted with his own blade peeked from the top of her tunic, but Rimo had already spotted it. He pressed the pad of his thumb to the wound as if he sought to work open the flesh. The witch stood her ground. Raising his thumb to his mouth, Rimo slicked his tongue over it and smiled, his intent obvious.

Juda's blood pounded against his temples.

'That's a nasty cut you have there, girl. How came you by it?' Rimo demanded.

'I worked the tavern down on Canal Row until three tides ago.' The words flowed off her tongue, like water running downstream. 'There was a brawl. Things got nasty. I got in the way. It happens.'

'And you thought running for Gaten Tyran would be a safer bet?' Juda said.

'I did,' the witch replied, the accusation clear in her eyes.

Until now, she meant.

'As for my clothing, Gaten insisted upon it. I care not for it myself, but if I get more runs under my belt, I can make more coin in half a cycle than I do in three at the tavern.'

'You'd make more coin with Clova Dell dressed like that,' Rimo said, unable to conceal his appreciation. 'You should consider it.'

When the witch turned her full attention on the other novice, Juda caught the glint in her eyes.

This was the creature he'd encountered in the cavern under the citadel. The unrepentant sorceress. The predator. The one who'd ground her hips against his crotch and wrenched the gasp from his mouth.

She'd spotted the opportunity, and why not? Rimo had left himself wide open for the taking. The fucking dutzal had played himself into her hands, and for that Juda was grateful, even if the way she was looking at Tor-Narun was burning like a hot brand against his skin.

'Clova Dell?' she said, allowing the thought of it to play out in a small smile. 'It pays well?'

'It would pay well for you.' Rimo's voice was thick now. 'Perhaps I could make the recommendation on your behalf? What's your name, girl?'

'Zera Kalise of Flax Lane.'

Another lie.

She wore her braids shorter than most, her long dark hair falling over the edge of her ears, the length reaching down to her chest. Rimo brushed one side back over her shoulder.

Around them, the street had cleared. No one ever wished to be witness to a Questioning. They would simply appear again when it was done and the blood would be washed from the ground as if it had never happened. An empty street was often a dangerous one.

What if Rimo decided another course of action was necessary?

By her side, the witch's hand clenched into a tight fist, but she smiled nevertheless.

'Would I see you there, noble Highguard?'

Juda saw her laying on Estella's bed, that tight fist unclenching, fingers beckoning.

Rimo tugged on her hair, yanking back her head and exposing her throat. Juda glared at him; glad the novice's attention was fixed solely upon the witch. The desire to slaughter the bastard had never been stronger.

'I would, but I would expect your services for free, narrag. Call it commission for arranging you better employment.'

'Clova Dell would have your balls.'

'Clova Dell knows what's good for her. And for her business.' With a smile, he released her. 'Pick up your cloak and be on your way, before we change our minds.'

Without hesitation, the witch retrieved her fallen cloak and threw it into the empty cart, before she grasped the handle and began to walk away. Juda was flooded with her relief, and his own.

'Flax Lane,' Rimo repeated to himself, as he watched her go. 'Maybe I should make sure she's up to the job before I send her to Clova Dell.' He grinned at Juda, his brow then furrowing as he glanced back at the witch. 'Hey, girl,' he called out. 'Stop.'

Slowly, she turned to face them again. Juda gripped his scimitar.

'You never said which merchant you had business with?'

Her mask remained intact, although Juda saw it pull taut across her face.

'The spice merchant, Ras-Genis.'

'Ras-Genis?' Rimo laughed. 'Then you really are new, girl. Ras-Genis lives that way.' He pointed in the opposite direction, where the streets sloped upwards to the upper echelon.

The witch feigned confusion, before wheeling her cart towards the Coffer, nodding her thanks to them as she passed.

'Fair midtide to you, Zera Kalise of Flax Lane,' Rimo said. 'I will look forward to our next meeting. By Ban-Keren.'

The Naiad, who was absolutely not called Zera Kalise, absolutely did not hail from Flax Lane and who absolutely was not on her way to see Ras-Genis, stopped and looked back at them. Her eyes met Juda's.

'By Ban-Keren,' she said.

'By Ban-Keren,' he replied.

Careful, Juda, his mother whispered. A liar fools no one but himself.

Yet Roth would always say, a liar fools only those too stupid to see the truth.

And Juda could see the truth.

About everything.

He'd held onto it for so long that there was nothing else.

Until now. Until her.

He would learn the witch's truth. And once it was done, once he really did know everything, he would wash the Naiad from his world as easily as they washed the blood from the streets of the Citadel.