Page 69 of Foul Days

“It’s not that big a deal. I barely notice the difference.”

Vila snorted.

“You know that I’ve always been a mediocre witch,” Kosara said.

“No. You’ve always been an impatient, impulsive, often outright stupid witch. Never mediocre. I don’t take mediocre students.”

“My spells never worked properly.”

“Because you lack patience. You can’t try a spell once or twice and give up when it doesn’t work.”

Kosara kept inspecting her boots. She felt as if she was ten again, with wrists cramping from waving her hands about, fingers numb from weaving spells, and eyes full of tears.

Vila used to make her repeat the same spell over and over again, for days or weeks or months, until it worked. It was most often months.

“I know exactly what happened,” Vila said. “I’ve been waiting for you to turn up at my doorstep. I bet you just gave it to him when he asked, didn’t you? You didn’t even try to fight him.”

“I couldn’t fight the Zmey!” Kosara heard her voice reverberating through the room and forced herself to speak quieter. “You know what he’s like when he’s angry.”

“Yes, I know very well. As you remember, I have faced his anger before. And I fought him.”

Kosara looked down at her hands. Shadow, flesh, shadow, flesh. She was too distracted to make them stop. “I’m not you. I’m not nearly as powerful as you.”

“Stupid witch. It has nothing to do with power. The Zmey feeds on fear and insecurity. The only way to defeat him is to face that little, horrible voice in your head telling you that you’re not good enough and force it to shut the fuck up.”

Kosara rolled her eyes. It was easy for Vila. The Zmey actually feared her.

“So, what are you going to do?” Vila asked. “Are you going to sit here and wait to turn into a shadow, or—”

“How do I find the Zmey’s palace?” Kosara forced the question out. That was the last place she wanted to go.

“You tell me,” Vila said. “You’ve been.”

“I don’t think I can use the same mode of transport as the last time.”

“What was that?” Asen asked.

He seemed completely calm. Kosara would have expected the talk of visiting the Zmey’s palace to have rattled him—but then again, he was a Belogradean. He probably had no idea how dangerous that trip was.

Or maybe it was something else. Kosara had seen Asen in several dangerous situations now, and it seemed the man was just that hard to rattle. He’d strolled into Chernograd during the Foul Days as if it was nothing. Granted, he’d nearly lost his arm to a hungry karakonjul only several hours later, but nevertheless, Kosara couldn’t help but be a little impressed.

She pretended she hadn’t heard his question. She couldn’t tell him the truth: that she’d flown on the Zmey’s back.

“No, of course you can’t do that,” Vila said. “But think. What did you see?”

Kosara shut her eyes and tried to think back to that night, seven years ago. She’d gotten terrible travel sickness. Bile burned the back of her throat and her hands shook. Hot and cold waves ran through her body.

But there was also something else. The smell of brine and seaweed. She’d dared to open one eye for a brief second, and all she’d seen were rolling waves stretching into the distance.

Of course. Most royalty would be satisfied with a simple moat to protect their castles. Not the Zmey. He had to have an entire sea.

“We had to cross the sea.” Kosara opened her eyes and met Vila’s gaze. “I remember now.”

“Wait,” Asen said. “You have a sea in here?”

“Only during the Foul Days. The rest of the year, it’s a small lake in the wilder end of the park. The Zmey told me it’s enchanted, brought straight from his realm”—Kosara turned back to Vila—“and no human could ever cross it uninvited. How the hell did you cross it?”

Vila laughed. “The old fool would like to think his sea can’t be crossed! All you need is Blackbeard’s compass. You know Blackbeard, the sea captain?”

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