'Fuck,' said Elara, hissing the curse through her teeth as she looked in the mirror.

She was doing a terrible job of painstakingly applying a cosmetic to her face to try and conceal the bruises that persisted in haunting her skin and she now sorely regretted not visiting Bogan Zeal to obtain the salve that would have eradicated them.

While she had used the story of meeting with Bogan to distract Kelena from her true mission, Elara had planned to slip back and find him after the brogboar run, but time had not been on her side, nor luck it seemed.

How was this happening? When she was so close. When she'd literally stood in the sacred temple of her foremothers with the pendant around her neck, only to leave without achieving her aim and with the fear of her identity being revealed greater than it had ever been.

She'd always dreaded the tide would come when she could hide no longer. Her mother had warned her, urged her to keep safe, to never let down her guard, and Elara had always fastidiously done just that. How could her downfall be set into motion in the very caves in which she should feel protected?

The fact that the novice knew that she existed, but also that he'd stepped foot on the very rock upon which her foremothers had stood – where her own mother had stood – burned Elara greatly. The anger stung her flesh like the vilest of insults.

You are not my enemy, he had said.

It was an absurdity. That a Highguard could say such a thing to a Naiad was a wild falsehood. The Order had been instrumental in carrying out the King's instructions. They had hunted and slaughtered every remaining water witch in Druvaria. They were as guilty of wiping them from Druvaria, as was Ban-Keren.

Remain in the water, naiadani. Her mother had uttered those urgent whispers to her as she'd lowered Elara into the Setalah, trying to hide the terror in her eyes – the fear she felt, not for herself, but for her daughter. May the foremothers protect you. Blessed waters. Blessed child. Do not resurface no matter what you hear.

It was her mother's screams she now heard as she looked in the mirror, seeing not her own reflection, but the face of the novice, the determination in his eyes as sharp as a blade edge.

Concealed in the water, Elara had strayed closed to the surface, desperate to see her mother one last time but instead, saw only the backs of the Highuards as they descended uoon the stricken form of the woman who had kept her safe her whole life. The woman who had shown her how to apply the skin sealants behind her ears. The woman who had sung the lullabies of their foremothers to her at bedtime. The woman who smelt faintly of sea salt and the laceflower coral that only grew in the subterranean caverns below the citadel.

Elara saw as one guard raised his fist – a great, hulking brute with arms easily six times the width of her own – and saw the novice instead, the deadly scimitar in his grasp.

We both lost our mothers to Ban-Keren and now we both live a lie. Can you not see that?

How Elara wished she could believe the earnest edge to his voice as he'd said those words, but everyone knew that a person was no better than a fool to believe anything the Order said, unless they were announcing your imminent death. In that, you could believe. But to even think that a novice was not her enemy?

Elara cursed again and threw the pot of cosmetic down into the empty basin, gripping the edge and closing her eyes, knowing that nothing could rid her of the novice's face taunting her mind with the falsehood clear in his gaze.

'Can I help?'

The sound of Kelena's voice wrenched up her head and she stared at her friend in the glass, as she loitered in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame.

Despite everything she had endured, all the hardships and torture that had befallen her, Kelena carried a calming aura about her. All she had to do was walk into the room, and the air would settle, like the slow, rhythmic flow of a meandering river, and by her foremothers, Elara needed that calm.

'I can help,' she said again, edging into the room behind Elara. 'Let me help.'

It was a small space, enough only for the dunny and the high table for the basin. Finding a dwelling with a bathing room, complete with a tub, was a rare opportunity in Grimefell, but with the Dreynian water so scarce and so expensive, they certainly had no need for and could not afford one of the pricier lodgings. With dwelling stacked upon dwelling, living quarters were cramped and poky and a person would be considered fortunate to share with just their family and the woodrot lice, as some slept two or even three groups to an abode. Sanus had once told her that there were eight Grimfell citizens for each one Druvarian in the mid echelon and having spent some time there on the trade runs, Elara could quite believe it.

Retrieving the discarded cosmetic pot, Elara turned and handed it to Kelena, resting her behind against the table. As her friend wordlessly went to work, using her fingertips to scoop cream from the jar and lightly applying it to her face, Elara found it hard to look into her eyes. Instead she tried to find sanctuary gazing at the corner of the ceiling, where the beam was splintered, and Anton had tried to hold it with one of his scarves.

'So,' Kelana finally said, one brow raised. 'Are we going to discuss it, or are we going to keep on pretending that you haven't built a wall around yourself higher than this ramshackle, rotting structure that we have no choice but to call home?'

Elara's spine stiffened. 'There is no wall.'

'Oh, of course not.' Kelena prodded at Elara's chin so that she could get a better angle on her jawline. 'And Anton will be admitted to the Academy by the next cycle.'

'Don't say that. He will get in. He has to.'

Kelena pursed her lips. 'You and I both know better than to talk in a realm of dreams. We cannot survive on fantasy. Let us not pretend he is any closer now, then he was the first time he bent Leon Kro-Balnar over his bed and made that man sing like a gilded griet.'

'I can't imagine Kro-Balnar sounds anything like a gilded griet in the throes of his passion,' Elara said, thinking of the balding, sweating doctor Anton had pointed out to her. 'More like the belch of a bog-toad.'

Kelena turned her attention and her skilled fingers to a bruise that still lingered on Elara's cheekbone, the one that was still the most tender to touch. Elara winced.

'Anton aside, I would prefer not to climb this wall, Elara. So, what should I do? Dismantle it brick by brick, which will be time-consuming for the both of us, and quite frankly, irritating to say the least? Or shall I ask Bogan to prescribe me an explosive potion which will take out the foundations in one swift, but violent act? Maybe while I am there, I can ask him why he failed to give you the salve you requested of him?'

Elara's gaze slowly met Kelena's, whose brow crinkled, the firm line of her mouth wavering as she looked into her friend's eyes and saw something she did not want to see.

'You are clearly aware I made no such request.'

Tearing her eyes from Elara's, Kelena reached for the lid to the pot and clicked it into place. As she juggled the sealed jar from one hand to the other, she scowled, her face softening only as she released an exhausted sigh.

'By the dead gods, Elara, can you not just tell me? We do not deal with secrets any more than we do with dreams and fantasy. Whatever or whoever took you from the brogboar run cannot be so bad that you do not wish to speak of it to me?'

The long, thin graze on her breastbone scored by the novice's blade throbbed its betrayal.

'Are you in trouble? Is it something to do with Sanus and the trade runs he has you doing in the mid echelon? Because if it is, you can find other employment. You need not worry about your share, you know that we will all cover that until you can afford to contribute again, just as you have done for all of us.'

Elara's heart thudded and she inhaled deep to steady her breathing. 'It's got nothing to do with Sanus' business in the mid echelon.'

'So, it is something?'

Elara turned to face the mirror again, lifting her chin to examine Kelena's handiwork. It was far superior to her poor attempt and for that she was thankful. She needed to look her best this midtide, and not just because Sanus had threatened to kick her from the runs if she didn't, but because of where trade would take her – and most importantly – who she would be dealing with.

'Fuck, Elara, don't do this.'

For a moment, Elara thought Kelena meant her not to take on the job, so distracted she was by what she had planned. 'Don't...' she began.

'Don't shut me out. I'm here.'

'I know you are.'

'Do you?' Kelena's face took on a dark expression, one crowded with too many ghosts, too much uncertainty that Elara was instantly ashamed to be the cause of it. She had sworn she would never see Kelena hurt again, she had vowed to keep her safe and if she could just hold on a little longer, Elara would make good of that promise – no matter what it took.

'Is it a man?'

Elara flinched.

'Well? Is that why you're being so secretive? Is that why you're intent on hiding the bruises? You went to meet someone, if not Bogan Zeal as you said, then who?'

You might need a warrior's body if you dare to fight me, witch. Although I'll take the one you have most gladly indeed.

The novice whispered at her ear and Elara's heart drummed harder in her chest. Anger and shame beat at her bones, desperate to break free from flesh that burned for a different reason this time. Another absurdity. Now was not the moment to think of him. Not like that. Never like that. He made her skin crawl. She knew him not, and yet she despised him.

'Elara Consuli, I swear by the dead gods, if you don't answer me now when your face is intent on heating this entire abode better than our fireplace can, I might never talk to you again.'

Elara swallowed, allowing her lips to curl into a wry smile. 'Fine. Fine. Your persistence is as annoying as your beauty.'

'And your beauty cannot be marred by bruises alone. Usually, it takes a barrel of ale and the inevitable vomiting to do that, but at least it is only your friends who see you when you're that ugly.' She grinned over Elara's shoulder. 'Now tell me, or I'll pin you down and wipe all my hard work from your face and maybe your new mysterious companion won't be so keen to see you again. I'm right, aren't I? You've found yourself some fine mid echelon côck.'

Elara's eyes widened. 'Who said anything about mid echelon?'

'Well, you've spent a lot of time there recently. It stands to reason that it be someone you've met on the trade runs. And besides,' she said, wrinkling her nose. 'Half the drouzkas here are either too drunk to get it up or so ugly that a woman would willingly stitch up her opening with a rusty needle, take up her vows and commit herself to a lifetime's servitude in the temples of the Dreynian mountains.'

'Well, that is true,' Elara replied with a chuckle, turning to face her friend. 'Okay, there is someone and yes, he does reside in the mid echelon.' Excitement fizzled darkly up her spine. The anticipation was a heady feeling, that was for certain. 'But that is all I can tell you. For now.' She planted a soft kiss on Kelena's nose. 'So you will have to be satisfied with that and nothing more.'

Brushing past her into the next room, Elara began to sort through her clothing, finding her low-neck tunic and the leather britches that hugged her thighs tight. She'd need her cloak to conceal the cut on her chest, but she could at least turn a head or two with what would be on show and as long as she turned one head in particular, then it would be worth it.

In the far corner of the room – which wasn't that far at all – Bazel lay slouched on his blankets, his eyes half-closed, sucking on the end of his pipe and lazily blowing smoke rings into the air above his bed. The green mist had gathered into the nook of the ceiling, twisting around the gnarled beams.

As Elara changed into the outfit she dearly hoped would assist her on her hunt, Bazel lifted his head and wafted the riverweed smoke out of his eyes, blinking wide.

'By the dead gods, Elara, did Clova Dell give you a job?'

Elara strapped on her dagger belt and slipped her blade into its sheath on her hip. 'My aim is good as you well know, kreeworm. Be mindful of my blade. You've been spending far too much time with Erron of late. Your tongue is becoming as filthy as his.'

'He serves a purpose,' Bazel said, gripping the pipe between his teeth and stretching out one arm and resting it behind his head. 'He is good for information, even if his feet are dirtier than the bed of the Setalah.'

Elara pulled on her short cloak. 'If you believe Erron Rhomm's mindless drivel is anything close to the truth, then you really are smoking too much of that shit, boy.'

Kelena snorted from the doorway. 'Oh, you should hear the tall tale he is peddling this time. Apparently, Estella Camren told Erron a novice is sweet on her. They're all talking of him – the handsome Highguard who likes to pleasure Clova's girls instead of hammering away at them like the gowpecker does to the sorrel tree.'

Elara stiffened. 'That's ridiculous. Highguards have no love for those girls. They're a means to an end. Nothing more.'

Bazel giggled and belched more smoke up into the air. 'Erron says its true. He even knows his name. Juda. I mean, have you ever heard of such a thing? A novice of the Serpent Order being stupid enough to reveal his true name?' The boy frowned and rubbed at his stomach. 'It's all very odd because Erron said he does not seem like the stupid type. In fact, he's quite terrified of him, by all accounts and Erron isn't particularly flustered by any of the Highguards, even the meanest ones.'

Where Elara had once burned, she now felt her blood flow cold and thin through her veins. It could not be her novice of which they spoke? If it was, then any possibility of him keeping her secret seemed as remote as the distant cries that haunted the dead fields. What if he came looking for her? What if he was to whisper a rumour into the eager ears of Estella as he took to her bed, promising more coin and more pleasure if she helped him search for the Naiad he knew remained in Grimefell?

Whatever the novice's plan; Elara could waste no more time.

'Well, if Estella and Erron know what is good for them, they will learn with haste to avoid this Highguard. Any novice who reveals his name and sets the girls of Clova Dell aflush, is not who he appears to be.'

'You believe him a spy?' Bazel sat up, still palming his stomach, and eyeing the pipe with suspicion as if it contained something other than the riverweed he'd purchased that morntide.

Elara shrugged and fastened her cloak at the neck. 'I think they are all fools to believe otherwise.'

And I am a fool for thinking I could be done with that novice, she thought.

'I need to get to work,' she said. 'Get word to Erron if you can. He might be a rat, but the gangs need to be warned. We cannot have Highguard spies skulking through the slums. Tell him to seek us out if the novice returns to Clova Dell.'

Kelena gasped. 'Elara, you cannot mean to get involved in this? It would be madness.'

'By the dead gods, not I, Kelena. I'm a trade runner, not a slum rat. But it would do no harm to keep eyes on this one. Something pervades the air in Grimefell and I don't mean the stench. You can feel it every time you walk those streets, and it's not something that has been created here. It seeps down from the upper echelon like a rot, and we need to be vigilant now, before Ban-Keren's fist tightens so much that we cannot breathe.'

Reaching the door, Elara bid them both farewell as she left, lifting her hood, and glancing around to check the long, narrow street that slashed through this part of the quarter. A slum-rat she might not be, but she was a hunter with one prey already in her sights. What was one more when the stakes were already so high and she was so close? It would be a risk, but she had risked too much already to let this handsome Highguard of Estella's ruin everything. Highly skilled he might have been, that much she knew, but the novice did not know of her skills.

What she had shown him in the temple had been but a small display of what she was truly capable of.

She would show him. She would show them all.

And then – and only then – would King Ban-Keren and his Serpent Order truly understand what fate they had bestowed upon the Kingdom of Druvaria.