Page 64 of Foul Days

Asen looked down at the circle. “How can you tell?”

“I know who drew it.”

It was obvious. Who else would cast a difficult and dangerous spell, rather than simply walk for ten minutes?

“Come on,” Kosara said. “We have to go.”

“Where?”

“To see Vila.”

This wasn’t a good sign. If old Vila was involved in this, it was entirely possible Kosara had bitten off more than she could chew. Far, far more.

12

Day Six

The Botanic Gardens glistened white in the winter sun. The benches hid beneath snow mounds, and frozen flowers decorated the windows of the greenhouses. Notice boards with plant names peeked out, half-buried in the snowdrifts.

“Is Vila a botanist?” Asen asked as he and Kosara walked through an enclosure of blooming rose shrubs. Every gust of wind sent red petals flying in the air, like droplets of blood against the snow.

“She’s a witch,” Kosara said. “An old-fashioned one. She’d live in a hut in the woods if there were any woods around here.”

“I see. And why are you so nervous about meeting her?”

Nervous? Kosara realised she’d been biting her lower lip and forced herself to stop. “I’m not nervous.”

Asen raised his eyebrows.

Kosara sighed. “Vila’s my old teacher.”

“You’re worried she’ll be disappointed with you for losing your shadow?”

“Maybe a bit.”

Truth was, he’d hit the nail on the head. Kosara was worried Vila would be disappointed with her: for losing her shadow, for getting involved with the Zmey, for once again needing to be saved.

“Surely, you’re not her only student who’s fallen on hard times. She’d understand.”

“I suspect I am,” Kosara mumbled.

“Sorry?”

“I’d bet you I’m her only student who’s lost their magic. She doesn’t accept new students easily. In fact, I don’t think she ever took anyone new after me.”

“How did you convince her to take you?”

“I had a gift for fire magic, and Vila knew it.”

What Kosara didn’t tell him was that Vila had been the only witch in the entire city who’d agreed to teach her. Young witches caused an awful lot of accidents, some more than others. Kosara had been a walking disaster.

“You kept causing fires?” Asen asked. He was starting to figure it out.

“My mum didn’t like the idea that her daughter might become a witch. She tried to get me to learn a proper trade, suitable for a young lady. At first, she sent me to the milliner’s. It burned down within the week. Then I was going to be a clockmaker. It took three days before the workshop caught on fire. The baker’s only lasted a day.”

“Why?”

“I kept getting hurt and frustrated. Pricking my fingers with the needles, stabbing my hands with the tiny screwdrivers, burning myself on the ovens. When I got frustrated, things caught on fire.”

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