Page 102 of Foul Days

Kosara curled up on the hard berth in her cabin. The ship creaked and moaned, the waves crashed against the hull, the seagulls cawed. It had been a long day, and she should have been tired to death, but she couldn’t stop thinking: about the monster trapped in the Wall, about the Zmey, and about how with every minute, they got closer to his palace.

Was she wrong to follow Roksana there? Perhaps she ought to have prepared better. Given enough time, she could have come up with some brilliant, foolproof plan.

Except she didn’t have time. In three days, the gates to the palace would shut again until next year. And next year, she would be a shadow.

Kosara squeezed her eyes shut and turned on her back. Then she turned on her stomach. On her back again.

And then, there was Asen. Asen with his enchanted pendant, and the panic in his eyes when she’d tried to touch it. Asen, who was obviously hiding something. Was she making a mistake trusting him?

It wouldn’t be the first time she’d placed her trust in the wrong person. Or the first time she’d ignored the obvious signs that someone only pretended to like her, just because she wanted it to be true.

Kosara turned to her side again. There had to be someone out there who deserved her trust. Someone she could let close without them betraying her.

But was Asen that person? Or was he just another Roksana?

Kosara threw the covers to the side. Her bare feet touched the cold floorboards, sending a shiver up her spine.

She crossed the hallway to Blackbeard’s cabin. He snored with the covers pulled over his head, his hairy legs and woolly socks sticking out below. Kosara tiptoed in, quietly cursing every squeaky floorboard.

Blackbeard hadn’t tidied up after she’d left. The truth serum was still on the table, and so were the half-finished bottle of wine and the two glasses. She grabbed them all.

“Hey, hands,” she kept forming with her lips as she walked back out, just in case. “Hey, the two of you…”

Once back out in the hallway, she poured the serum into the wine and shook the bottle to mix them.

Then, she paused. Was she really going to do this? Truth serum was illegal. Much worse, it was immoral.

He’s a ticking time bomb. He needs to be defused.

Kosara knew very well that being morally right wasn’t her job. She was a witch—her job was being right. After only a moment’s hesitation, she knocked on Asen’s door.

He opened, messy-haired and bleary-eyed. Since she was well-mannered, Kosara looked him in the eyes, though she couldn’t help but notice he wasn’t wearing trousers. His briefs were striped blue and white. Interesting, had he chosen them specially for going sailing?

“Kosara?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t sleep,” she said.

He stepped to the side and let her in. She left the bottle and the glasses on the bedside table and sat on the berth. He moved his meticulously folded clothes from the chair and spun it to face her.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Nightmares. Wine?” Without waiting for a response, she poured two glasses.

“Because of what happened in the graveyard?”

“Yes.” Kosara pushed one of the glasses towards him and lifted hers. “Cheers!” She pretended to take a sip.

“What did you see?” He didn’t touch his glass.

“When?”

“In the graveyard.”

At first, Kosara thought it was mere curiosity fuelling the question, or maybe his professional obsession with finding out the truth. But then she saw the genuine worry in his eyes.

Guilt prickled at her skin. He was worried for her, and she was about to attempt to sneak truth serum into his drink. She licked her lips.

A familiar taste filled her mouth, sickly-sweet. Something thick and syrupy slid down her throat. Kosara froze. Oh no.

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