Page 95 of Foul Days

“What talisman?”

“Your pendant. Can I see it?”

“No. You can’t.”

Kosara’s hand still bled in her lap, and she pressed it against the fabric of her trousers, making the glass shards sink deeper. She winced. “Sorry,” she repeated. “I was curious.”

“It’s just a pendant.”

It’s definitely not just a pendant. So, he either didn’t know his pendant was magical, or he didn’t want her to know. Maybe it wasn’t a curse, after all. Maybe it was something embarrassing, like a nice-breath potion or a spell to make his eyelashes longer.

On the other hand, no one made a nice-breath potion strong enough to defeat a samodiva’s enchantment.…

“Who gave it to you?” she asked.

“That doesn’t concern you.”

“I’m worried it might be cursed.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Are you sure? It could be dangerous.”

“It’s nothing. Forget about it. Give me your hand. Please.”

She did, and he continued picking out pieces of glass with the tweezers, perhaps a tad faster than before. Once he’d gathered them all, he unwrapped the bandage.

“I can do it myself,” Kosara said. She could tell he was upset. He’d stopped talking. He didn’t even look at her.

“With one hand? Don’t be silly.”

Asen bandaged her with fast, precise movements, like someone who’d aced the police first aid course. He did a much better job than she would have managed, she had to admit.

“I think I’ll sleep on the couch tonight,” he said finally. “It’s my turn.”

“Are you joking? It’s too small for me. You’ll have to fold in half to fit.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve slept in worse places.” He got up and took his wet coat out of the sink to hang it in the bathroom. “Good night.”

He moved fast, obviously eager to leave.

“Listen,” Kosara said, “about that pendant—”

“Good night,” he repeated, and all but ran out the door.

He knew the pendant was enchanted. No one acted this shifty over a regular pendant. He’d jumped about a foot up in the air when she’d tried touching it.

At the same time, he seemed certain it wasn’t dangerous. Perhaps she ought to drop it. It was obviously private, and besides, he’d given her no reasons to doubt him. Other than him being a copper, of course, which made him inherently untrustworthy.

Kosara poured herself another glass of wine. Her wounded hand throbbed painfully. Her other hand shook as she lifted the glass to her lips.

She wasn’t going to drop it. She had to find out what kind of talisman it was.

Not because she cared about him. Not at all. She cared about her own skin, and about what an enchanted Asen might do when she was least prepared. In the middle of the night when she was fast asleep. When that pillow barricade had been breached again and she woke up in his arms, but this time, he wasn’t himself anymore—he was something cursed and dangerous.

She worried the inside of her cheek. Fine, she admitted. Maybe she cared about him a little bit.

Kosara downed the wine in one go. Perhaps, a sensible, used-to-being-ignored voice said in her head, perhaps you should respect other people’s right to keep secrets. You have your secrets. He has his.

---