Excerpt from Foul Days by Genoveva Dimova, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

1

It was nearly midnight on New Year's Eve, but the city inside the Wall didn't celebrate. The people there knew the birth of a new year was—like any birth—difficult, painful, and dangerous.

Only one pub, nestled in the snowdrifts between Chernograd's tall spires, was open that night. It was packed but hushed. The patrons huddled close together, rubbing shoulders as they lifted their glasses. The corner table, hidden in a cloud of pipe smoke, was particularly quiet. It was Kosara's turn to bet, and she took her time.

Being the best at cards wouldn't be enough to win tonight: she had to be the best at cheating. And to cheat, she needed that damned fireplace to burn brighter.

"Well?" Roksana said, plum rakia dripping down her chin. It landed on the table, glistening in the dim electric lamplight like droplets of amber. The two golden beads tying her thick braids glinted, contrasting against her tanned skin. Her fingers drummed on the deck of cards, ready to deal. "Are you in?"

All three of them—Roksana, Malamir, and the stranger—had their eyes fixed on Kosara. Don't let the corners of your mouth twitch. Don't swallow too loudly, don't rub the sweat off your palms on your trousers, try to calm down your heartbeat …

"Give me a second," she said. "I'm thinking."

"For fuck's sake, Kosara!" Roksana slammed her tankard on the table. Several of the patrons at the other tables jumped. It was distressing seeing a woman her size lose her temper. "We haven't got all night."

Kosara didn't let Roksana's raised voice intimidate her. She could pretend all she wanted, but Kosara knew she wasn't truly angry. It was clear to her that Roksana's mind wasn't in the game at all. Her eyes kept darting to the clock, whose hands crept closer and closer to midnight.

"Shush, you old grump." Kosara looked down at her cards. The queen of clubs, she thought automatically, a woman with black hair and black eyes. It must be me. She also held a king of clubs and a five of diamonds. If only she could replace her five with an ace, she'd be holding the second-strongest combination in a game of Kral.

Kosara cast a glance towards the pile of logs in the fireplace. They'd been smouldering there for what felt like hours, occasionally hissing and sending a wisp of smoke into the air. She could gently encourage them, but was it worth the risk of getting caught?

For a long moment, the only sounds were the gramophone playing quietly in the corner and the soft gurgling of Roksana's pipe.

No risk, no gain. Kosara quietly clicked her fingers under the table. The fire cracked. Flames enveloped the logs.

She looked around. Roksana's eyelids were half-shut as she pulled on her pipe. She'd left the last few buttons of her shirt open, and her many evil-eye and brass-bell necklaces peeked from underneath. Malamir and the stranger were both preoccupied with their own thoughts, biting their lips, rearranging their cards, counting their tokens.

At Kosara's feet, her shadow grew larger, darker, and stronger from the light of the roaring flames. She did her best not to let her gaze follow it as it slid under the table.

"Oh my God!" Kosara said, her gaze fixed on the barred window: on the snow whirling outside, the searchlights piercing the sky, and beyond them, the shadow of the Wall. From a distance, it looked like granite, dark and solid. Close up, it resembled something alive—swirling and rippling, as if thousands of fingers tried to break through from the other side.

Any other day, her opponents would have seen right through Kosara's obvious distraction attempt. Tonight, their eyes immediately followed hers.

"Are they here already?" Roksana's fingers slowly drew out her pistol from its holster. It seemed strangely small in her large hand.

Malamir's leather trousers squeaked as he fidgeted in his seat. Kosara almost felt guilty when she saw the panic in his face. Almost.

Excerpted from Foul Days by Genoveva Dimova. Copyright © 2024 by Genoveva Dimova. Excerpted by permission of Tor Books. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.