Page 123 of Foul Days

He pushed her shoulder playfully. “Perhaps. When I said I was happy to see you earlier, it was the truth. I’m wondering if you can help me.”

Kosara frowned. Was he being serious? Or was this another trick? Was he going to exclaim, “You can help me by dying!” before leaping forth to pierce her heart with a dagger concealed up his sleeve, like a villain in a romance novel?

“Help you?” she asked.

“Yes, help me. I need your help. I bet you like that, little hag, don’t you?”

Yes. Yes, she did in fact like it. Provided this wasn’t just another of his games.

Kosara allowed herself to relax just a little. Her sickness still crept up her face, its shadowy tentacles tickling her cheeks, but a tiny bit of the breath she’d been holding escaped her lips. Maybe not all was lost. Maybe there was a chance—no matter how minuscule—to get out of this.

“What do you want?” she said.

“I want you to teach me embedding magic.”

And there was her chance of getting away evaporating into thin air. Out of all the things he could ask her, it had to be this.

Kosara wanted to deny him, but the words wouldn’t come out. She couldn’t deny the Zmey. At the same time, she couldn’t agree to teach him. Embedding magic was dead for a reason.

She’d once heard about a school of witches who danced on hot coals to chase away evil spirits. They had to be fast, placing their feet just right, never stopping. That was how Kosara felt right now. One wrong step could drop her into a fiery inferno.

“Who are you going to embed?” Kosara asked, but then she thought about it. It was obvious: the Zmey’s sister had been embedded in the Wall. He wasn’t trying to perform the spell. He wanted to undo it.

He laughed. “I won’t embed anyone, Kosara. You know me—I’d never commit such a vile act. I’m going to destroy the Wall.” His eyes flashed. His teeth glistened, white and sharp. “Why do you look so surprised? I know you want it gone just as much as I do. All of Chernograd does. Imagine if the Wall fell!”

Kosara squeezed her eyes shut. She imagined herself walking from Chernograd’s grey streets straight onto Belograd’s white cobbles. She’d wake up in her bedroom in Chernograd, only to nip over to Belograd for a hot chocolate and a piece of baklava. Chernogradean merchants would load carts full of amulets and talismans to trade at distant overseas markets. Chernogradean girls and boys would go to the famous science schools of Phanarion and the music academies of Odesos.

But to get there, they had to free the Zmey’s sister. Kosara imagined that too: the screams when Lamia’s dark shadow flew over Belograd. The flames enveloping the red rooftops. The blood running down the white cobblestones.

“I can imagine,” Kosara said.

The Zmey smiled at her. It made her shudder. His smile was hungry, predatory. “Will you help me, Kosara?”

The music abruptly stopped. The Zmey let her go and she stumbled away from him. He stared at her, waiting for her answer. The monsters watched her without blinking.

Kosara bit her lip until she tasted blood. The Zmey wanted to release one of the most dangerous monsters Chernograd had ever seen. With that, he’d free Chernograd from the Wall. Was there a right answer here? She felt as if there wasn’t.

“I can’t teach you embedding magic,” she heard herself saying.

The monsters’ whispers rose like a wave, only to fade away again when the Zmey drew in a sharp breath. “You can’t?”

“I promised Vila I would never teach anyone but an apprentice.”

It was the truth. It was also the wrong thing to say.

“Don’t ever mention that old hag’s name in front of me again,” the Zmey hissed. “Do you understand?”

Kosara had made a wrong step. Her heels were on fire. She squeezed her eyes shut and awaited the inferno.

For a long time, the only sounds were the Zmey’s sharp, angry inhales and Kosara’s own gasping breaths. Any minute now …

“You will teach me embedding magic,” he said at last. “Whether you want to or not. You can do it voluntarily, or you can do it grovelling at my feet, begging for your life, drowning in my fire. I also remember that night seven years ago, Kosara. You looked so pathetic.”

Kosara’s face grew numb as all the blood drained from it. Her lips trembled. The only pathetic thing was that I ever trusted you.

“You have one night to think it over,” the Zmey said. “Take her away.”

Kosara’s eyes flew open. She couldn’t believe it. There was no smell of sulphur, no burning hair, no searing flesh. She wasn’t surrounded by flames. She was alive. She’d denied the Zmey and lived. Again. At least until tomorrow.

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