The novice was lying. He had to be.

Never in her life had Elara heard of a novice of the Serpent Order admitting to such treason. It was just not possible. To endure the training. The agonising tests and trials. The heinous acts they committed upon the people, all in the King's name.

And this one expected her to believe now that it was all fraud?

It was not. It was merely the blade at his throat and the powerful threat of the water that had forced his tongue to speak such lies. There was no mission to assassinate Ban-Keren. Just a mission to save his own pitiful life.

Pressing the flat of the blade down on his throat, Elara slammed her palm down on the rock by the side of his head and lowered her body so she could look into his eyes.

The novice looked like any other. The triple row of braids bound his hair tightly to the side of his head, the rest of his long locks tied at the back. The Batak oil scar slashed across a Highguard's eyes always lent them an immediate air of cruelty, emblematic of the darkness within, but in this beast's face, Elara saw a wildly dangerous edge. Release him and he would kill her, and probably enjoy it too. He was untameable. Feral. As poisonous to her as the water was to him.

'I credit you, novice,' she said. 'A noble speech. Then again, I would expect nothing less for your final words. I would even go as far as to say you might have been wasted in the Order. A stage would be more worthy of your skills. The King's theatre would no doubt have benefitted from your fine acting.'

'You think me a liar?' he said, through gritted teeth.

She felt the undulation of his throat under the blade as he swallowed hard.

'I think you are a liar and a murderer.'

'Is it really murder if its right and just?'

Elara sat up, rocking back on her heels, but kept the tip of her dagger at his throat. 'Right and just?' She laughed. 'Is that how they tell you to justify your crimes, drouzka? It is right and just to kill this man, by Ban-Keren it is.'

'No, not by Ban-Keren. By my blood, witch. The blood you would gladly now see spilled on this rock.'

Elara stiffened, a vein of fury pulsing through her. 'Glad? You think I would be glad to taint this sacred place with your filthy blood? This place which was once full of worship and peace and beauty. This place that was once so full of life and love, until your false King destroyed everything. Until he ripped my foremothers from their beds and sent the rest of us into hiding, forcing us to deny our true hearts to avoid the cruel and unjust blade of his exalted Highguards? Do not speak to me of what is right, because you do not even know the meaning of the word.'

The novice shifted his weight underneath her and she pressed firmer into him, pushing the blade upwards until a bead of blood surfaced on his throat. His chest heaved, ragged with breath.

'Maybe not, but I understand the word revenge only too well, for it has been the driving force of my life, since he took my mother. I live it, breathe it, nurture it. Every single tide I awake with only that thought in my mind, and I am close now, witch. Everything you see before you, I have fashioned for one purpose only and soon, I will be advanced to the King's elite guard. Lord Dageor intends it.'

Dageor. Elara knew of Dageor. Her own mother had warned her of him. The Dark Priest of Druvari was the King's closest advisor, the hand on his shoulder and the whisper in his ear. He had been a young man when the Naiad had been declared the enemy of the kingdom, but no less influential and powerful than he was now. It was said he had urged the King to denounce the old gods and declare them dead, placing himself in the role and forcing the people to worship only him. Every ruling, every cruel law imposed with the iron fist of the Order and Dageor had always been there, ever by the King's side.

'Oh, so you are acquainted with that old ghoul?' Elara smiled thinly. 'You continue to march yourself one step further towards your death, novice. Your confession is truly remarkable.'

The anger flooded from the novice's mouth. 'You twist my words, witch. I am no acquaintance of Dageor and I possess no allegiance to the King. Did you not hear what I said? He is the reason my mother suffered an agonising death in the dead fields. I watched her get dragged away by the Order and handed over to shipmaster Jasul Bo-Dreven. I watched as Bo-Dreven struck her until she could not stand. I heard the sound of his fist against her face. I listened to her screams. I watched as the Highguards dragged her unconscious body onto that ship and then I never saw her again. And on that very tide, as the ship sailed from the port, I swore that I would do everything in my power to make them all pay for what they had done in his name, and I am almost there.'

The dragon's gold reflected the fire in his gaze, and Elara couldn't help but be drawn to it.

'Just three tides ago, I plunged my blade into Terrick Bo-Dreven, Jasul's fifth-born son and a fellow novice. I yanked his stinking guts from his body and watched him die, but not before I told him why I was so glad to end his life. He died knowing that I'd planned for his death the moment I joined the Order and saw him in the training yard. He died knowing that I intend to rip the hearts from every Bo-Dreven, until finally, I can look Jasul in the eyes as I cut off the hands that struck my mother.'

Elara's own mother's screams rang in her ears, amplified by the cavern, vibrating through her bones, and gripping her heart as they always did. Those screams ravaged her nightmares. Haunted her every waking moment. They were the reason she had sworn revenge on Ban-Keren. They were the reason she had sworn revenge on them all.

'You understand vengeance, I see?' The novice's eyes flashed; his body still tense but unmoving beneath her.

'You see nothing.'

'No, I see it,' he said, raising his head. 'I see it in you. We are the same.'

Elara recoiled from his words. Grabbing a handful of hair from his scalp, she pressed the tip of the blade to his lips, enjoying the gasp that escaped him.

'I should cut the lying tongue from your mouth, you fucking beast. Do not think to compare us. I am not the same as you.'

'We both seek the same end.'

He knew nothing. He really knew nothing. To think that their aims could ever be the same. It was as ludicrous as his lies.

'From what I can see, you seek riches and glory. Isn't that why you are here? To take your share? If it truly is revenge you desire, novice, you will not find it in the temple of my foremothers. Your revenge awaits in the dark fortress itself. I think maybe you have lost your way on route to the King.'

'I seek no glory,' he insisted. 'Just enough treasure to secure my transport to Dreynia, where I will live out the rest of my life in peace.'

'Peace?' Elara scoffed at his words. 'Kill the King and you will find no peace. You will not even make it out of those black gates. The entire Order against one miserable drouzka like you? Dageor would hang you with your own entrails. There would be no escape to Dreynia. Such a fantasy you concoct.'

'No fantasy. I have been escaping my entire life. How do you think I get in and out the novice quarters without detection? How do you think I was able to slip free today of my duties and come here?'

'You think the entire Grimefell doesn't know of the Highguards who frequent the whorehouses? Do you think that is your little secret?'

'I am not talking of that, witch!' he spat. 'Do you honestly believe the Commander knows nothing of that? He turns a blind eye to that which he himself did as a novice. I am talking of the many times I have spent tunnelling through the passage to reach this place.'

Elara climbed off the novice, glancing back at him as she walked to where she had seen him descending from above. 'This passage?' she said, looking up into the dark maw carved into the rock. The light from the cavern only penetrated so far, but debris lay on the ground where he had hammered his way through. Reaching up, she brushed her fingertips along the side of the tunnel mouth.

This shaft was not new. It looked to Elara like a natural vertical fissure in the rock that had been widened by fire quenching.

'What is this?' she demanded. 'Where does this lead?'

'The Citadel Vaults.'

She hadn't expected him to tell her. 'The Library? Why? For what purpose?'

'How should I know? The tunnel was sealed long ago. Maybe your foremothers made the shaft so they could creep up into the mid echelon and murder people as they slept?'

Elara wanted to tell him that if her foremothers had planned such a thing, they would have had no need for a secret tunnel that burrowed directly into the heart of the mid echelon. Druvaria was surrounded by the waterways of the Setalah and the water was all they needed. It had been all they had ever needed.

She walked back to the novice, and stood at his side, looking down at his pathetic form as he lay at the mercy of the water.

'How did you come to know of the tunnel?' she said, watching as he stared blankly back at her. Her mother had always taught her of the importance of identifying body language. Understanding slight inflections in tone. The smallest of gestures. Seemingly imperceptible expressions. It could be a matter of life or death.

The novice was doing his utmost to appear unmoved by her question, while giving himself time to think of an answer that she would believe. 'Careful, drouzka,' she warned, crouching low and holding the tip of the dagger over his crotch. 'I may be forced to become clumsy with my weapon.'

'If I am to die, then I will have no need for it,' he said.

Elara shrugged, enjoying the perspiration that beaded his brow. 'True. But I can ensure the water takes its time. Embed this knife into your balls and you will be begging for the Setalah to choke the life from you. Or maybe you will bleed to death first, who knows?'

He bucked his hips as she pierced his britches with the dagger. No harm in giving him a small taste of her blade and her intent.

'I worked in the Vaults after my mother was taken,' he said, his voice hitching up a notch as Elara increased the pressure. 'One of her friends took me in as his ward. I spent a lot of time there, with not much else to do but learn everything there was to know about the King and Druvaria. I wasn't meant to access the private vaults, but as I said, I can quite easily get into places other people can't. There were texts, old scrolls, and tomes, containing many secrets. It was there I learnt about the tunnel that ran from the Library deep into the citadel's core. It's said there are many tunnels in the black rock, some that may run even to the black fortress itself, but I have never found evidence of them.'

Elara pondered this. 'So, believing the lies your false King told about the riches my foremothers stole from Druvaria, you decided to reopen the tunnel and take your share. I think you might have discovered far more than you bargained for, novice. I ama treasure indeed, but not the one you were hoping for. A wasted journey. Such a pity.'

'Maybe not,' he said, slicking a tongue across his lips.

A tiny scar tugged on the edge of his mouth. For a novice, he appeared relatively unmarked from what she could see, which wasn't usual for a new addition to the Order. Many Highguards bore the burden of their training, but this one's trauma was not evident. How much of it lay concealed under his clothing? How skilled was this novice?

On the possibility that what he had told her was not falsehood, Elara had to concede that it would take someone truly strong of spirit to resist the training of the Order. To betray Ban-Keren wasn't just unusual. It was unthinkable. She had never heard of such a thing. Kelena once told her that a novice's indoctrination to the Order was so absolute, that it even controlled their very thoughts. To even think betrayal was an impossibility.

'And why is that?' she said, unable to quell her curious mind.

'You said there were riches here. Say what you like about the nature of our endgame, but I know you want the same as I do – to see the false King destroyed for what he did to your foremothers. I see it, witch, even if you do not wish to admit it to me. We could work together. You are a mighty sorceress, but you are the last of your kind. I am the first of mine – a Highguard determined to kill Ban-Keren. Share some of your treasure. Allow me the means to escape, and I swear to you now, the King will fall by my hand.'

'Me? Work together with a Highguard?' she said, even as the pressure of her hand faltered. 'It was a Highguard who dragged my mother to her death, drouzka. You say you heard your mother's screams? Well, I hear mine still. I hear them in this very temple, combined with the screams of all my foremothers. The evil that the false King inflicted on my kind still lives on. I cannot escape it. I cannot even tell those closest to me what I truly am in fear they will betray me, all because Ban-Keren has convinced the whole of Druvaria that I am their enemy.'

'You are not my enemy,' the novice said. 'And I am nothing like the Highguard who took your mother. We both lost our mothers to Ban-Keren and now we both live a lie. Can you not see that?'

Elara had never felt this real. The temple was the place she felt most at ease. Here, where she could connect with her foremothers. Here, where she could be who she really was. But to be seen by another? To be truly seen?

The possibility that this Highguard believed Ban-Keren had infected Druvaria with lies about the Naiad, the possibility that he did not see her as the enemy, could it be true?

Confusion clouded her head. It felt wrong. She knew it did, and yet...

Catching his gaze flicker to the pendant that hung from her neck, Elara thought she saw something there in the novice's eyes, and suddenly she hated that it was on display. She'd come here with the intention of pushing forward with her plan, but now she could not even do that.

Standing abruptly, Elara holstered the dagger at her hip.

'I do not work with Highguard scum,' she said.

She needed to be away from him. His presence here was a rot. She could feel it, working its way under her skin, infecting her mind, making her believe things that could not possibly be true.

'Please,' he called, as she waded into the water. 'Please don't do this! Please don't leave me here!'

She stopped. The water caressed her limbs, its touch calming her as it always did.

When she looked back at the novice, he was craning his neck to search for her, water dripping from his hair. Gone was the arrogance and hatred. Now there was only panic and fear, and rightly so.

Druvaria should fear the water and they should fear her.

With a flick of her hands, she released him, the tendrils of water whipping back into the cavern pool and spraying droplets into the air around her. They hit her skin, and she relished every single one. The warmth. The power.

The poison.

The novice jumped to his feet, frantically drying his hands and ankles on the sleeves of his tunic. He stared at her with wide disbelieving eyes.

'If I see you here again, if I get one whiff of your stench, drouzka, then I'll make sure your Commander knows he has a traitor in the Order. You might be skilled at getting in and out of places, but I can't imagine even you could get yourself out of that predicament.'

He took a couple of stumbling steps forward, edging back when he realised he was too close to the water.

'You would not,' he dared to say. 'Not if you wish me to keep your secret, witch.'

Elara laughed. 'I have evaded capture my whole life. It is as second nature to me as it is to breathe underwater. Can you breathe underwater? Cross me again and I will put you to the test and let us see how long you fair before that handsome face of yours becomes as rotted as Zar-Kuron's.'

The water was to her waist now and she yearned for its embrace.

'Stay out of my temple, novice. Climb back up that shaft like the fucking rat you are, seal it shut and never come here again. There is nothing here for you but death.'