Page 133 of Foul Days

“What happened to the karakonjul?” Kosara asked.

Roksana shrugged. “Fuck knows. Malamir must have managed to calm it down eventually and taken it back through the Wall.”

“How? He was badly injured.”

“He had one of Karaivanov’s amulets for crossing the Wall with him. Maybe he managed to trick the beast to step inside the teleportation circle. For fuck’s sake, Kosara, I don’t know, I’m only guessing. You’ll have to ask him.”

Asen considered Roksana for a long moment, before putting his revolver back in its holster.

“You believe her?” Kosara asked.

“I do. When I said we found Malamir’s fingerprints on the crime scene, I wasn’t only talking about the glasses. There was also a partial print on the victim’s throat.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“I couldn’t tell you. It’s classified information.”

Kosara let out a loud swear. Her hands were clenched in painfully tight fists, and the only thing saving Asen and Roksana was that she couldn’t quite decide who she wanted to punch more.

That, and the fact she’d never punched anyone, and she was afraid she might break her knuckles in her anger.

“Kosara,” Roksana said. “You have to go. Before the Zmey catches you.”

Kosara barely heard her through the sound of blood rushing to her head. So, Roksana was telling the truth. Which meant that Malamir was a smuggler and a criminal, and Roksana was a traitor and a shadow-stealer. Neither of them was a murderer, at least not on purpose. Kosara let out a throaty laugh. That was the most positive thing she could say about either of them right now.

And then there was Asen, who still hid things from her after everything they’d been through. Was it any wonder, really? He’d hidden that he was a copper from his own wife.

Roksana shook her by the shoulder, and Kosara cringed under her touch. “Kosara! Please go.”

“Roksana’s right, you know,” Asen said. Good job, siding with the traitor. “We should go.”

Go? Go where? The Zmey still had her shadow. Leaving would mean certain death. Staying here would also mean certain death.

Kosara looked at the path weaving through the Zmey’s gardens. Beyond them, a dead man’s ship waited for her. Another senseless death she’d inadvertently caused. So much death. So many ghosts.…

The garden around her grew restless. The smell of flowers was nauseatingly strong, filling Kosara’s nostrils and dimming her mind. The trees rustled, their branches slashing at the sky, their leaves cutting through the air like throwing stars. Their roots crawled beneath the damp earth, shooting out and reaching for Kosara, trying to wrap around her ankles. She kicked one of them until it retreated back underground.

It was as if the gardens knew she shouldn’t have been there. As if they sensed the Zmey’s anger.

“Kosara,” came Asen’s worried voice. His eyes searched the dark spaces between the trees. “We have to leave.”

“Please go,” Roksana insisted. “You need to go now.”

She heard both of them as if from very far away. The wind ruffled her hair and made tears fill her eyes.

“Really? So soon?” Now, this voice shook Kosara right out of her thoughts. It slithered down her spine, tightening around her core and squeezing. She looked over her shoulder, certain she’d imagined it. That he was only in her head again.

She hadn’t imagined it. The Zmey stood behind her. His coat billowed in the wind, changing from silver to purple to green, like spilled oil. His twelve shadows danced at his feet. His face was unreadable, a porcelain mask.

“Your radiance,” Roksana said, bowing deeply. Kosara cringed from secondhand embarrassment. She couldn’t quite believe this was the same Roksana she’d known for years. It was truly a magical transformation: Roksana had suddenly turned into a spineless, cowering fool.

“It’s not what it looks like, your radiance.” Roksana never lifted her eyes from the ground. “I was simply trying to convince her to help us, your radiance.”

The Zmey didn’t look at her. His eyes were fixed on Kosara.

“And where exactly would you go, my little Kosara?”

“Never call me that,” Kosara said, simply to check if she could still speak. The shadow sickness crept up her face and tickled her lips.

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