Day Eleven
Kosara woke up slumped on the bed, with the hard edge of a book pressed into her cheek. She lifted her head and realised she’d drooled all over Magic for the Advanced User, making the ink run. Vila would be furious.
Her temples pulsated painfully after she’d spent hours staring at the book’s tiny script. Every time she shut her eyes, magic symbols swam behind her eyelids. She badly needed a coffee.
But she’d done it. She’d figured the spell out. It seemed so obvious now that she knew how it worked. She could see its outline, as if stamped into the Wall’s dark surface.
Kosara staggered out of bed. As she walked by the vanity, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.
She truly was a sorry sight. The tendrils of her shadow sickness flashed across her face every few seconds, like inky veins running just beneath her skin. She’d had to chop off most of her hair, and suffice to say, if the whole witch business fell through, it wasn’t likely she could make a living as a hairdresser. Her old wigs would have to make an appearance again.
Kosara stumbled down the stairs to the kitchen. The range stared back at her, cold and intimidating. She hesitated, telling herself it was because she needed a minute to fully wake up. It certainly wasn’t because the mere thought of fire sent her right back to the Zmey’s palace.
No, certainly not. She was a fire witch. The Zmey could never take that away.
Kosara lit a match. It illuminated the kitchen with soft, gentle light, yellow and orange and red. It looked nothing like the Zmey’s cruel flames, so hot they glowed blue at their centre. She smiled watching the flame, letting it almost reach her fingertips before she threw it into the hearth.
Now, with the fire on, the kitchen was less cold, but it was just as empty. There was no one for her to share a coffee with. No one to fry her an egg and sprinkle some sort of a colourful, foreign spice all over it.
You don’t need him, she reminded herself. You don’t need anyone.
She sat by the fire, waiting for the water to come to a boil. A flicker of light ran across the wall above the fireplace. Kosara blinked, and the light disappeared. She furrowed her eyebrows, searching for its source around the room. The kitchen was dark.
She walked to the window. The curtains were wide-open, revealing the white street outside. Something metal glinted on the roof of the house opposite. The shadow of a large woman ducked behind the nearest chimney. Only the smoke of her pipe remained visible, curling in the wind.
Kosara rolled her eyes. Of course the Zmey hadn’t kept his promise.
She drew the curtains shut. Once the water in the cauldron began to bubble, she didn’t mix coffee in it. Instead, she chose a few bunches of herbs and stirred them in. Wisps of smoke rose from the cauldron.
Kosara poured the mixture into a flask. Then, she threw her coat on and changed her slippers for a pair of boots. She crossed the windy street, keeping her chin close to her chest, and climbed up the fire escape of the house opposite.
“Hi, Roksana,” she said.
For a moment, the roof seemed empty, except for a cloud of seer-sage-scented smoke hovering in the air. Then, Roksana peeled herself away from the chimney.
Her sheepish smile made her pipe bob up. “What gave me away?”
“The binoculars.” Kosara nodded towards the pair hanging around her neck. “The lenses reflected the sunlight.”
“Oh. Oh well, that was a bit silly of me, wasn’t it? Look, I’m only here because—”
“I know you’re only here for my protection.”
“You do?”
“I mean, imagine how the people would react if they learned what we’re trying to do. So many have family in Belograd.”
“Exactly! I’m so glad you understand. I was worried you’d be upset with me.”
“I’m not upset.” I’m furious.
“Really? I’m so bloody relieved to hear that. Listen, I know I made a complete mess of this. You can’t imagine how sorry I am.” Roksana shifted from one foot to the other. “I just want you to know … I really value you as a friend, Kosara, I really do.”
“You do?”
“Of course I do! You’ve always been there for me. I’m so sorry. I’d do anything to make this right.”
“Anything?”