Page 12 of Foul Days

What. Have. I. Done.

She’d done what she had to do.

“—seventeen, sixteen, fifteen—”

The Zmey slammed his fists against the door. “If you don’t let me in right now, you’ll all regret it.”

The stranger threw his neckerchief in her face. “Tie it over your eyes.”

It felt like it took her hours, with her hands shaking so badly.

“I’ll put something on your foot,” he said. Her left boot came off. The cold air tickled her toes. “Give me your hands.” He grabbed them between his palms and dragged her after him, turning and kicking her heels, as if in a peculiar dance. Then he mumbled something. A spell?

“—five, four, three—”

It suddenly hit her: she was leaving Chernograd. Wait! She wanted to shout. I’m not ready! I’ve changed my mind!

Too late.

Her body shook. Her ears rang. For a second, she hung in the air, weightless. Then, her feet crashed against the hard ground. A warm breeze hit her face. It smelled like imported spices and exotic flowers, like distant winds and sea salt.

Belograd.

The stranger lifted her left foot up in the air and slid off the amulet he’d put there. Kosara leaned on his shoulder so she wouldn’t lose her balance. One second, his hand was around her waist, and then he took a step back. Kosara staggered, disoriented with her eyes covered, but managed not to fall.

“Can I take it off now?” she asked, and without waiting for an answer, she pulled the neckerchief off her eyes with twitching fingers.

Her left boot rested next to her on the white cobblestones. The stranger was gone.

* * *

In the sky above, fireworks flashed. The beating drums were deafening. Laughing people in bright clothes pushed against Kosara.

She could feel the absence of her shadow at her completely non-magical fingertips.

What have I done.…

Kosara stumbled backwards until her body hit something hard. A wall. The stones were wet and cold against her back. She leaned on them, shut her eyes, and breathed deeply until her heart stopped leaping like a frightened bunny.

This had been a terrible mistake. This city, it felt all wrong. It even smelled wrong. She didn’t belong here. She was a witch—she belonged in Chernograd.

Though could she even call herself a “witch” now that she’d traded her magic away?

If only she hadn’t been such a coward. If only she’d found the strength to face the Zmey. Tears prickled behind her shut eyelids.

Get a grip of yourself, she thought sternly. The last thing she needed was to show weakness in front of this new, strange city.

She was a witch and she’d fought countless monsters. She could handle Belograd, even without her magic. It wasn’t as if she was planning on staying long, anyway.

She’d made a snap decision in a moment of desperation, but it had worked, hadn’t it? She’d escaped the Zmey. All she had to do now was to find the stranger again and get him to bring her back to Chernograd. She’d convince him to give her magic back. The how was still a bit fuzzy, but there had to be something he’d trade for it.

And if he refused? She’d steal it. Years of cheating at cards had given her very nimble fingers.

Then, she’d hide from the Zmey until the Foul Days were over. She’d have a year to figure out how to face him.

Yes, because hiding from him worked so well this time, a little voice chimed in her mind.

Shut up, she thought at it.

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