Page 59 of Foul Days

Asen was already downstairs, lighting up the range in the kitchen, the clanking of its metal grate reverberating through the house. The smell of coffee drifted into the bedroom.

Kosara looked at the mirror above the vanity. Crusted salty streaks ran down her face, sinking into the three scrapes on her cheek. Her eyes were red, but they could pass for still being puffy with sleep.

If only she could make the tears stop.

Murderer, whispered the Zmey in her head. It was all your fault, and you know it.

Kosara squeezed her eyes shut. Go away.

You can’t be trusted to be on your own. You need me.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she whispered to herself in the mirror. “It was self-defence. Not. Your. Fault.”

Her parents had never blamed her. Why did she find it so hard to stop blaming herself?

Kosara took several deep breaths. She washed her face in the bathroom, letting the cool water soothe her puffy eyelids. Before she climbed down the stairs to the kitchen, she slammed the red door shut. If only that stupid copper hadn’t opened it.…

The kitchen was dark, the only light coming from the smouldering coals in the fireplace.

“Good morning!” Asen said when he spotted her. He wore her mum’s apron, a triumphant smile on his face. “How many eggs?”

Kosara blinked. Her eyelids were still heavy and sticky with tears. “What?”

“Eggs,” he said. “How many?”

“Um, two?”

He placed a plate of poached eggs in front of her with the flourish of a magician producing a rabbit out of a hat. They were swimming in a pool of thick yogurt, and melted butter was poured all over them.

“Where did you get all that from?” Kosara asked.

“Your neighbour Svilen. I exchanged a jar of pickled tomatoes for them.”

“Why?”

“I refuse to eat vinegar for breakfast. And…” Asen pushed a steaming cup towards her. “He’d just finished brewing his morning coffee.”

Kosara’s heart skipped a beat. A real Chernogradean coffee! She’d been drinking the sickly sweet sugar-laden concoction which passed for coffee in Belograd for five long, painful days.

“Are you sure you’re not a warlock?” she asked. He laughed. “What did you exchange for that?”

“I promised to get him the recipe for the tomatoes.”

“That’s a family secret!”

“Do you want the coffee or not?”

Kosara wrapped her fingers tightly around her cup. “I want it.” She took a long drink. It tasted like the best she’d ever had, even though it was too watery and a bit gritty.

She prodded the egg with her fork. “What’s this?”

“A poached egg.”

“No, I mean the powdery stuff on top.”

“Oh, that’s cayenne pepper.”

“Cay-what?”

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