Page 143 of Foul Days

Once they were back in the house, Kosara lit the fireplace and placed a cauldron of water over it. She chose a few jars and a bundle of herbs from the drawer.

“Will you tell me what you’re planning now?” Asen asked. He sat at his usual place at the table, his pocketknife in hand. He didn’t need to carve any more aspen stakes. Kosara suspected he was doing it to calm his nerves.

“What plan?” she asked.

“Well, you surely aren’t going to let the Zmey’s sister out. So, what’s the plan?”

Kosara considered the bubbling cauldron over the fire. “I’ll tell you, on two conditions. First, you’ll let me bandage your wounds.”

“All right. And second?”

“Second, you’ll deal with mine.” Kosara raised her hand to the three slashes on her cheek. They’d stopped bleeding, but she had to keep her expressions measured so they wouldn’t open again. “I think I might need stitches.”

Asen almost imperceptibly flinched, but he quickly covered it with a smile. “Deal.”

First, Kosara cleaned the karakonjul bite. It looked much better already: the rakia had done an excellent job preventing an infection. Then, she unravelled the makeshift bandage on his chest to deal with the kikimora scratches. They were deep, but cleanly cut: the monster’s nails had been razor-sharp. They’d heal nicely.

Her fingers gently spread the antiseptic, feeling the goosebumps rising on his chest. Whenever she took care of wounded customers in her workshop, she managed to disassociate from the personal nature of it. But the fact that she wasn’t in her workshop, but in her kitchen, and the patient wasn’t a customer, but Asen, made it much harder. The last time she’d touched his bare skin was when she’d pretended she wanted to kiss him.

Or maybe it hadn’t been entirely a pretence.

Once she was certain the antiseptic had done its job, she began stitching the wounds up. There was always something distressing about stitching human flesh as if she was adding a new patch to her coat. She worked quickly, avoiding touching him as much as possible.

Christ, what was wrong with her? She was a professional witch, not some blushing teenager.

Finally, Kosara bandaged his torso and took a much-needed step back. “There, you’re all set.”

“Thanks.” He turned around, checking the tightness of the bandage. “Your turn.”

Kosara let him clean the slashes on her cheek. His touch was gentle, but she could barely conceal her pained grimaces. Her cheek felt like an open wound, and occasionally, like nothing at all when it switched to shadow. She couldn’t tell which one she found more unsettling.

“So,” Asen said while he worked. The wrinkle that appeared between his eyebrows when he concentrated grew deeper. “Are you going to share what you’re planning now?”

Kosara hesitated. “It might not work. Making plans isn’t exactly my strong point.”

Asen met her eyes. She forced herself to stop chewing on her lips. They were dry and peeling already, and she only made it worse.

“Why?” he asked. “What are you afraid of?”

“I don’t know. Making a terrible mess of a dangerous spell?” As she said it, she realised it wasn’t the entire truth. If they were going to be a team, she had to be honest with him. “I don’t want to show the Zmey he’s been right all along. That I’m weak and useless. That I’m nothing without him.”

“Why would a powerful being from another dimension put so much effort into bringing you down if you were weak and useless?” As he talked, Asen spread the herbal mixture over her cheek. It burned, but Kosara gritted her teeth and made no noise. Soon, it would start working and numb that entire side of her face. “And more importantly, if you were weak and useless, how come he hasn’t succeeded?”

Despite the pain, she couldn’t suppress her smile.

That wasn’t the only thing that bothered her, though. Kosara had been careless in the past, and it had ended in her sister dying. She needed help, but was she willing to risk Asen’s life for this?

Then again, it wasn’t really up to her, was it? She had to stop making decisions for him: he’d come to Chernograd for a reason. Besides, he’d shown over and over again he could take care of himself.

“It’ll be dangerous,” she said.

“Oh, I know.”

“It might result in both of our deaths.”

“Yes, I figured. Now, will you please tell me what your plan is?”

Kosara took a deep breath. “I think I’ve cracked it. The embedding spell.” She couldn’t help but let some excitement seep into her voice. It was such a brilliant piece of magic. “It took me so long because I kept thinking it didn’t quite fit. Parts of the magic seem to simply dangle there, unused. It turns out, I was right. It doesn’t fit.”

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