To overthrow the cruel King who brutally slaughtered her foremothers, the last surviving water witch Elara Consuli must team up with novice warrior Juda Vikaris from the Serpent Order and realise an ancient prophecy, before the blood-thirsty ruler d...
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Learning to control the breathing was an agonising, but most crucial part of a Highguard's training in the bloody square. It had come on the very first day, when The Grim had knocked the wind out of each novice in turn, using his baton to pummel the breath from their bodies. No sooner had they all recovered than he went along the line and repeated the lesson. Then again. And again. Five novices had passed out, Argo included.
The aim, he had said, was threefold. Control the breathing, and your body will recover faster from any attack. Control the breathing, and your opponent will gain no mental advantage from believing they have bested you. Control the breathing, and your prey will never know you are there.
Juda, who had spent much of his life finding his way into places he was not supposed to be, already had something of an advantage on this score. A rat that squeaked too loud would always be discovered and despite his humble upbringings, Juda Vikaris was no rat. The art of a sneak thief was not just the ability to gain access to forbidden places, but to ensure no one could identify your presence from a breath exhaled too loud or too sharp, and on this, Juda had always excelled.
At least, he thought he had.
By the dead gods, remember control. Remember.
Concealed in the next chamber behind the medo screen that divided this space from where the witch was now lowering herself onto Mica Koh-Miralus, Juda could barely remember how he was meant to breathe, let alone control it.
Following the sound of their voices echoing along the wide, high-ceiling hallways had been easy. Concealing himself within the adjacent chamber, where the house servants kept the bath oils and heated the pitches of water in front of a huge fire, had been easier still, that was until the witch had begun to undress.
From his first meeting with the Naiad, he couldn't imagine that she'd take an odious beast such as Koh-Miralus to be her lover. He didn't want to think it, yet entering the merchant's house on the cusp of moontide could mean only one thing. The silk merchant was handsome enough to turn the heads of many a noble's wife or daughter, that much was true, but Juda could not marry the idea the wild creature he had encountered in the subterranean cave would willingly give herself to this man. Wealth was an attractive proposition for a slum girl, and sometimes one that could not be denied, but him? Of all the men she could have chosen?
The unease in the pit of Juda's stomach had nagged at him as he'd watched the silk merchant tease her breast over her tunic, soon turning into a dull pain when she'd stood almost on tiptoes to press her lips against his. But when the bastard noble disrobed and ordered the Naiad into the bath, the ache turned into something stronger—a sensation that made the blood rush to his temples. The tumultuous wave of emotion then was so violent and so overwhelming that Juda had to press his fist to his mouth to silence his rage.
Completely naked, the witch approached the bath, her feet wading into the shallow waters that lapped at the steps. Her lips parted; her tongue visible between them. In the water, she was a goddess, perfection, and as she stood straddling the noble, Juda sensed her excitement and hated her for it and yet could not bring himself to look away.
