Page 122 of Foul Days

Why couldn’t he just get this over with? What was the point of all this idle chatter, when they both knew how this would end? Just burn me already, she willed him with her mind. Just burn me.

“How about a dance?” the Zmey said.

“A what?” The words barely squeezed past the lump stuck in Kosara’s throat.

The Zmey extended a hand towards her, his fingers waiting, like a dead spider lying on its back. “Dance with me. You can’t deny me at my own wedding.”

Of course he wouldn’t simply burn her. Where would be the fun in that?

All around Kosara, the monsters glared and whispered. Asen tensed next to her, his fingers inching towards the revolver’s trigger. She couldn’t let him get involved in this. If there was any hope for him to make it out of this alive, she couldn’t let him fight the Zmey. This was her fight.

Kosara placed her hand in the Zmey’s, trying not to flinch at his touch. Her lips twisted in a smile. “Of course I’ll dance with you.”

She let the Zmey lead her towards the empty space at the centre of the hall. As they walked, she looked over her shoulder at Asen. She only shaped the word with her lips: Run.

The music began to play. The monsters tightened their circle around her and the Zmey, and she lost sight of Asen. She could only hope he listened. She could only hope that when she’d pinned him for just another selfish, ruthless copper way back when they’d met in Belograd, she’d been right.

She had the sinking feeling she’d been wrong.

“You seem distracted,” the Zmey whispered in her ear, barely concealing the irritation in his voice. How dare she not make him the centre of her attention at all times?

His hand tightened around her waist, clawing at her side. The music was slow, and at first, Kosara was grateful: the last thing she needed right now was to have to follow the Zmey in some wild dance. She was a terrible dancer, especially when she had an audience. The monsters’ hungry eyes followed her every move.

Now, she realised the slow dance was a great excuse for the Zmey to keep her close. She felt every disgustingly familiar contour of his body pressed against hers. Whenever the exposed skin of her arms touched his, it burned and itched like stinging nettles. The bile stirred in her stomach.

She forced herself to keep smiling. “I was just thinking about how much tonight reminds me of the first time I visited your palace.”

“Were you, now? I can only hope you’ve learned your lesson. This time, I won’t let you get away.”

Kosara’s smile never faltered, but the shadow sickness crept up her face, making dark spots dance in front of her vision as it passed over her eyes. An obvious sign of her fear.

“What if I don’t want to get away?” she asked.

His hand moved down her side to her hips. She fought with herself not to slap it away.

“Oh?” he asked.

“Maybe I’ve realised I made a mistake when I left you. We were always a great team. Remember that time I helped you catch one of your varkolaks gone rogue?”

“I remember. We burned him.”

You burned him. Kosara avoided looking around the room, searching for his calcified bones in the walls of the great hall.

Her eyes fell on the Zmey’s bride in the crowd, watching them dance, her face slowly curdling like spoiled milk. You don’t have to be scared I’ll take him away from you, silly. You have to be scared I won’t.

“Did you think I simply stumbled my way here by accident?” Kosara said. “I wanted to come back. We could be great together.”

The Zmey spun her, sending her flying away from him and then drawing her close again. His nails dug at her hip. “Do you really think I’m that stupid?” His breath tickled her ear. “You’re here for your shadow.”

Kosara’s sickness blinded her for one terrifying second. Once it cleared, the Zmey was staring back at her, his teeth bared.

She shrugged one shoulder, completely casual. “Can you blame me for trying?”

The Zmey laughed. His eyes, however, remained devoid of all humour. “I can’t. That’s why I’ve always liked you, Kosara, you never admit defeat.”

“Do you like me enough to give me my shadow back?”

The Zmey lifted his hand, and she flinched, expecting him to strike her. Too mouthy, Kosara, way too mouthy.…

---