Page 134 of Foul Days

The Zmey’s laugh made her stomach churn. Again, she remembered that night seven years ago, when he’d chased her through the crowd, laughing. When she’d hoped he’d catch her.

“Look at yourself,” the Zmey said. “You’re wasting away without me. Let me help you.”

“Kosara, please,” Roksana said. “You know it’s the sensible thing to do.”

“I’ll give you your shadow back,” the Zmey said, “if you help me free my sister.”

Kosara clenched her jaw so hard, her teeth hurt. He had the audacity to ask for her help? After everything he’d done to her? After what he’d done to Nevena?

And he expected her to simply trust him. To believe he’d give her shadow back if she helped him.

No way. He’d never return her shadow. The Zmey never gave anything. He only took.

Kosara looked him in the eyes. “No.”

“I’m sorry?” The edge to the Zmey’s voice was razor-sharp.

“I said, no.”

That was it. She’d gone too far. His last remnants of self-control evaporated, leaving behind only fire. His face twisted. Kosara was always surprised by how he could look so handsome one second, and so ugly the next.

It suddenly struck her: he’d seemed so grown-up back when she’d been sixteen. An ancient, mystical being from another dimension.

Now, she realised why he chased young women who didn’t know any better. He had the emotional maturity of a teenager. Too bad he did have the magical power of an ancient, mystical being from another dimension.

“What’s going on?” Asen whispered.

“I’ve made him angry.”

“But what’s happening to him?”

The Zmey’s chest rose as he inhaled sharply, and with every breath, it grew bigger. His skin bubbled. Scales sliced cleanly through, glistening golden. First, they covered his face, then his neck, then they disappeared under his shirt, but only for a second—his chest rose again and his clothes tore, falling to the ground.

He was so tall now his curved horns poked above the treetops. The flapping of his wings sent leaves flying through the air.

“Don’t ever,” the Zmey’s voice thumped in Kosara’s ears, “ever defy me again.”

He grinned, revealing a mouth full of scimitar teeth. His nostrils flared and steam poured out of them.

Kosara was frozen. She’d never seen him this angry. Not at the feast seven years ago. Not last New Year’s Eve.

She wanted to run. She had to run. She couldn’t move.

Then she felt a warm hand in hers. Asen dragged her after him. She stumbled before managing to catch up with his long steps. The smell of sulphur burned her nostrils.

“Watch out!” Asen pulled her after him as he dove to the ground.

Just in time. A wave of fire rolled above them, brushing the backs of their necks. Kosara gagged at the smell of burning hair. The air grew so hot it rippled. The tree trunks glowed red. The grass caught fire, now a sea of flames.

Kosara’s eyes burned from the smoke, tears rolling down her cheeks. She ran, stumbling through the grass, unsure of which direction she was going. She’d lost Asen’s hand in her panic, but she heard his voice calling her, further and further away.

This was why you never made the Zmey angry. What was she thinking? Her mind was stuck on the familiar refrain: I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die—

Kosara bumped headfirst into something hard. She raised her hand and—oh dear God—she felt the Zmey’s scales beneath her fingertips. Smooth and scorching hot. Her vision cleared enough that she saw him through the tears. His teeth were bared. Flames reflected in his eyes.

“Got you!” he said, playful, as if this was a game to him. He grabbed her, his talons sinking into her upper arms. “Haven’t you learned by now you can never escape me?”

His every word was like a needle piercing her skin. She wanted to cry but, this close to his heat, her eyes were dry as parchment. So, she fought, slamming her fists into him until her knuckles were raw and bloody. He wouldn’t budge.

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