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.
Koh-Miralus grabbed her arse and pulled her against his mouth, his lips exploring, his hand sliding between her thighs. The witch raked her fingers through his hair, her gasp of pleasure enough to harden Juda's cock and he pressed closer to the screen, losing control with every passing moment.
Steam clouded the chamber, the heat from the water moistening Juda's forehead and throat, and it was all he could do not to unfasten his britches and slide his hand inside to ease his pain. Could he do it? Could he watch this man fuck the witch? Could he watch her slide onto him, her wet body writhing over his, her eyes closed, head back as he did everything to her that Juda wished he could?
The merchant's mouth found her breast, tonguing her nipple as she braced her hands against the edge of the bath behind his shoulders.
Juda should have left. He knew he should. It was torture to watch her, and yet he couldn't stop. A masochistic kick spiked hard in his veins, a yearning for the pain it caused to see the witch adjust herself on the noble's lap, hooking her arms about his neck.
Get out now, Juda, before things go too far. Get out, before you are lost completely.
Instead, he palmed the length of his cock over his britches, closing his eyes briefly and biting down on his fist to stop the groan that threatened to reveal his hiding place.
When Juda opened his eyes, his vision was hot and misted and he blinked to clear it, unsure whether what he was seeing was real or some mirage, conjured by the heat and the steam rising from the bath.
Pressed close to the merchant as he buried his face into her neck, his teeth nipping at her collarbone, the witch's arms were outstretched behind him, her hands hovering over the water, palms facing downwards.
Her fingers twitched, plucking at the air as if it was a weaver's loom.
Juda peered closer through the screen.
Something was happening in the water.
Faint ripples were undulating across its surface, a tide that fought against the natural movement created by their bodies. Whatever this was, it was not natural.
Juda's eyes widened as small tendrils of water began to form, miniature versions of what he'd witnessed in the underground cave. Upwards they stretched, conjured by the witch's dark sorcery, and all the while, Koh-Miralus busied himself with her body, oblivious to what rose behind his.
"Come, girl," he said. "Let's end this game and close our deal. What do you say?"
The witch laughed and Juda felt its coldness dampen the heat of the chamber.
"I say, I'd like that very much indeed," she crooned, moving to look into his face, her head tilted to one side.
Juda recognised the look she was giving the noble, for it was the same look she had given him—the monster studying her prey, taking pleasure from knowing she held the upper hand, even though Koh-Miralus was as yet completely unaware.
As a Highguard of the Order, protector of the King and his interests, Juda should have stopped it. Personal loathing of the nobles aside, the citadel was built on a hierarchy of power, and the witch and all the scum who resided in Grimefell were worthless in comparison to those of the mid and upper tier echelons. That's just how it was. He could not change it any more than he could ever grow to like it. If he did something to stop this, his presence here no doubt would be questioned. By the dead gods, it might even jeopardise his place in the Order, but it was his duty to place this noble—no matter how much of a cunt he was—over the life of the Naiad.
By Ban-Keren, it was his obligation to bring the witch before the King. To throw her to her knees and swipe his blade across her throat if the King demanded it of him.
But Juda couldn't move and the realisation that he would not, came with the irrefutable truth of why.
He wanted to watch her do it and he knew it would bring him just as much satisfaction to watch her kill this man as it would for her to fuck him.
"Then I will make you mine now, girl," the noble said, his hands grasping at her waist so he could manoeuvre her body where he yearned for her to be.
The tendrils of water were creeping up his back now, but he was so lost in what he was about to do, or perhaps her thought it was her hands touching him, that he failed to notice as the water reached for his neck.
More water streamed from the surface, strengthening the fronds.
"Oh no, my noble Mica Koh-Miralus—husband of Kelena—I think you will find that I will make you mine."
The merchant's eyes widened at the mention of his wife's name.
When the attack came, it was so sudden and so violent, that it was all Juda could do not to cry out from his hiding place, as the water pulled the merchant back viciously, plunging him under the surface.
The witch was on her feet now as the noble thrashed about, her hands working quickly to incite the water to secure his limbs.
From his hiding place, Juda could see he dark shadow of Koh-Miralus under the water as it churned around him, miniature waves rippling against the sides of the sunken bath.
Twisting her hands, the witch made a beckoning gesture and the merchant's head and shoulders resurfaced with a pained, panicked gasp, his eyes bulging and red-rimmed, his hair plastered to his face. Before he could barely gather his breath to let forth a scream, the Naiad bid the water to stream over his mouth, and it did, a translucent rippling sealant that reminded Juda of the flat jellyfish his mother used to tell him about that once lingered near the shores of Tevari. It was as if it was a living, breathing thing and Juda's heart pulsed with a terror he rarely felt these tides, and yet he still could not look away.
The Naiad stood over Mica Koh-Miralus as he trembled beneath her, his muffled cries rousing a smile to her cruel, beautiful mouth. Water dripped from her naked body, glistening on her skin through the mist that still rose from the bath.
By the dead gods, she was glorious.
"Retribution finds us all, Mica. Yes, even the blessed and fortunate ones such as yourself," she said. "Think you untouchable, yes? Think you beyond the reach of any foe? Well, you have never met an enemy quite like me, have you, my noble sir?"
She reached down and touched the water that smothered his mouth, snagging her lip with her teeth as if it pleased her.
"You really are all the same, aren't you? Hiding up here in your pretty clean houses, sheltered by the King's dark shadow, free to do as you please to whomever you please without risk of judgement or punishment. Another girl, another life. It is all so meaningless to you. You think you can take what you want, even though you have so very much already. But it is never enough, is it? Greed, greed, always greed."
She gripped his chin hard, tilting his head up.
"Unfortunately for you, your greed has made you blind. Careless. It is the same with you all, including that false King of yours. When murderers masquerade as gods, all it takes is one drop of retribution to bring them to their knees. And I will make Ban-Keren kneel, you can count on that. You people seek enemies in Grimefell, when you have no idea that the real enemy surrounds you at all times and it is an enemy you cannot beat. How foolish you have all been. How blind."
Her lips parted in surprise, as the noble began to sob and plead.
She touched her fingertip to just under his eye, where the tears ran freely now, before raising her hand to her mouth, her tiny pink tongue delicately lapping at her fingers. Pursing her lips together, she smiled again.
"Your terror tastes good, far better than your kiss did. I think you will not be offended by that, will you? After all, you relish the flavour of fear too, do you not? The many times you beat your young wife. When you bruised her flesh until she could barely walk. When you took that which she was not willing to give. When you told her how you would punish her for an eternity for daring to oppose you. You? How dare she! Yes, noble Mica Koh-Miralus, I know your crimes. I know your wife. I know how you threw the woman she loved into my waters and made her watch as she perished."
The witch chuckled to herself. "Ironic, really, that you should meet such a fate as this, don't you think? I will watch you and you will watch me, as I drown you in the very water you were so ridiculously proud of and it will bring me far more pleasure than that unimpressive noble cock of yours ever would."
The water was streaming up his body again, reaching over his shoulders, up his face and his eyes bulged once more as watched it coming for him.
He was screaming now, his cries muted but still audible.
When the water pulled him down this time, it was no less powerful than before, and yet the noble struggled against it, his body thrashing about violently. The waves rose up, the tide choppy and forceful, but still he struggled, and the witch scowled, redoubling her efforts.
She hadn't expected this, that much was clear, but Juda understood it only too well. He'd faced enough opponents in the training yard to know the last grasp at survival when he saw it. How many times had he believed the match was won, only for his rival to rise up and strike? While the fight still lingered in the vein, there was hope. Or at least, there was until Juda made sure they realised hope was futile. It was always futile.
The noble kicked out—whether on purpose or through blind panic, Juda could not have said for certain—and caught the Naiad below the knee, which buckled beneath her, sending her tumbling backwards. The dull crack of bone against the edge of the bath wrenched the breath from Juda's mouth and he clutched at the medo screen, as the witch's blood clouded the water.
Stunned, the witch held onto the tiled edge, her hand drifting to the point of impact on the back of her skull, her fingertips coming away bloodied. She was unsteady on her feet as she rose, and for a moment, Juda thought she would crumble, but instead, she rested her hip against the side as she glanced over at the struggling Koh-Miralus, whose head was barely out of the water, his nostrils flaring as he fought for air.
With a snarl, she reached out with one quivering arm, almost collapsing as she commanded the water again, the muscles straining in her limb, the determination clear.
Koh-Miralus was dragged under again, and this time, the Naiad did not relent. With her lips pulled back over her teeth, she bit down, her face flushing with the labour even as the blood continued to trickle down the back of her neck. The noble tried to resurface, his forehead breaking through, only for the witch to force him under again, as she climbed to her feet once more, stumbling closer.
Juda knew what she was doing.
She'd vowed to watch the merchant in his final moments, and she was going to do just that, standing over him as she let the waters hold him down.
Bubbles popped to the surface, engulfed by the whirlpool that raged over his body as he jerked—once, twice—until finally, all movement ceased.
The Naiad fell, her eyes half-closed.
The water calmed.
But Juda could not be still.
The witch wasn't going to make it out of here, that much he knew.
How he found himself in the water beside her, Juda didn't know. But he was there in an instant, pulling her away from the merchant's dead body, hooking his hands underneath her armpits and dragging her towards the steps where she lay weak and listless.
"Wake up," he hissed at her. "By the dead gods, wake up! You have to get out of here. Do you hear me? You have to get out!"
The Naiad groaned. Blood matted her hair. Too much blood.
You fucking idiot, he heard Roth's voice in his head. How did you get yourself embroiled in this? I always told you that cock of yours would be your downfall, boy. If you're found here with the witch, you'll hang. You'll hang, Juda. Run now. Leave her.
"Juda?"
Juda's eyes widened as he looked down at the Naiad draped on his lap, her confused gaze searching his.
"Juda?" Her fingertips reached for his face, and trailed weakly along his cheek.
His breath rasped harsh and pained through his parted lips.
She knew his name.
She'd said his name.
And all at once Juda knew he truly was lost.