Back in his room, dressed in just trousers and socks, Jack enjoyed the feel of clean, soft clothes on his skin as he finished towel-drying his hair. “That feels so much better.”

  His moment of calm was interrupted when a sudden, “What does?” made him jump and wince in pain from the movement. Polly had stopped outside his bedroom door.

  “I was just talking to myself,” Jack replied, like it was normal to talk to yourself; it was for someone who’d spent twenty years mostly alone.

  Polly laughed. “You need some friends, Jack… Or a psychiatrist.”

  “I’ve got friends!” he protested a little too fast as he opened the door to see what she wanted. “And I don’t need to see anyone!” He scratched the back of his neck. What were my friends’ names again?

  With mock sincerity, Polly added, “Jack, I’m honoured… I truly am, but I have enough friends, and Mom and Dad might be a little too old for you to hang out with.” She smirked. “I don’t think dragging poor little orphans off the streets counts as finding a friend.”

  Jack scoffed and threw his damp towel at her, making her squeal as she ran off laughing.

  He gathered his towel with a smile. Mom and Dad are only a decade or so older than me. He was sore and exhausted, but he felt clean, safe, and surrounded by the warmth of his loving family. “They’re so good to me.” He smiled. “Even Polly.” Despite the day’s chaos, he felt happiness.

  ***

  Stepping into the kitchen, Jack found his mom and Zia preparing various herbal concoctions. They were busy pounding and mixing herbs with a stone mortar and pestle. With a few candles and some lightning strikes to flash across the window, the scene would look like a pair of coven witches plotting mischief. His father was sitting at the table, observing.

  “Sit yourself down.” His mom gestured towards a chair pulled clear from the kitchen table.

  Jack obeyed and spent the next twenty minutes at the mercy of his smiling mother as she instructed Zia how to smear herbal pastes to his cuts, scratches, and bruises. The earthy smell made his nose tingle as they worked to cover him in healing goo. He held an endearing smile as he listened to his mom describing the purpose of each herb for Zia’s benefit, the little orphan girl who, less than twelve hours ago, had been living on the streets.

  Jack couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of it all. She tried to steal my coin purse yesterday, and today she’s helping treat my injuries. What a strange week this has been, he mused. Looks like I’ve got another little sister. Let’s hope this one isn’t as annoying.

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  After being smeared in stinky herbal paste and bandages, Jack’s mom made him something to eat with Zia’s assistance. The little girl was tired, but she forced herself to stay awake to help out. Jack was waited on by Zia until he was stuffed full of delicious food, some of which had a slight medicinal taste.

  While he ate, he was recounting the edited version of his day to his father, who listened in quiet contemplation, occasionally interjecting to ask for clarification on a few details. Once Jack had finished his account, his father posed a question.

  “Why didn’t you use the Adventurers Guild training facilities?” There was a note of confusion in his tone. “They offer safe areas for archery and other combat training. Many non?combatants make use of them.”

  Jack’s eyes widened. “They have training facilities,” he echoed. Though it sounded like a question, he already knew the Adventurers Guild boasted a large training area. One he had used in his past life during the few months he lived in Lundun while preparing to assassinate Greaves. He had forgotten they existed.

  “Yes, Son.” His father nodded. “They have some of the best facilities in the Kingdom. Only the great noble houses surpass them.” Rising from his seat, he added with genuine concern, “Be more careful in the future; your mother would be devastated if something were to happen to you.” With that, he patted his eldest child on the shoulder and offered one last reassuring squeeze.

  “I-I’ll be more careful, Dad,” Jack stammered, his voice trembling as he struggled to hold back tears as he watched his father return to his work in his room. How could I forget that? He shook his head at his own stupidity. Did being resurrected cause brain damage or something?

  As Jack finished his drink of honey-sweetened tea, his mom met his eyes from across the table. “You were lucky today.” His mom scrutinised him through narrowed eyes. “That arrow could’ve killed you if it had been more accurate.” She tapped the table and looked at the little girl who was washing up. She lowered her voice, “After you’ve had a good night’s rest, you can tell me the real story of what happened.”

  Jack was ready to argue that there was no ‘real story’, but his mother’s raised hand stopped him mid-thought, her quiet authority leaving no room for debate. “Tomorrow, Jack, don’t try to take me for a fool.” She shook her head. “Spend tonight deciding exactly what you’re going to say.”

  He gave a single nod. Bloody hell! It’s like dealing with one of those ridiculous characters from a mystery novel. The kind where an old lady solves the noble’s murder from a patchwork of cryptic nonsense.

  “Go get some sleep.” His mother gestured to his room. “You’ll need plenty of rest to heal. I’ll check on you a few times in the night, so don’t panic when I’m checking your forehead to make sure you aren’t coming down with a fever.” She frowned. “An infection of the blood can get you fast. Your poor Aunt Daisy’s paternal grandfather died in his sleep when he ignored a fever after cutting his hand with a dirty knife.”

  Jack smiled at the story. Do these people even exist? Despite meeting plenty of family members, none of the names were ever familiar.

  His mom got up to help Zia. “If you feel hot and achy in the night, wake me up. Better safe than sorry.” She stroked the tired girl’s silver hair. “Now off to bed with both of you. I had Polly make your bed while we were treating your cuts and bruises.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” He followed her to the sink and gave her a big hug. “I love you. I’ll see you in the morning.” His mom stroked him on the back as they hugged.

  As they held each other, little Zia jumped in and gave Jack and his mom a hug as well.

  Despite it only being ten thirty in the evening, Jack was so tired that he was asleep within minutes of his head touching the pillow.

  In the morning, Jack faced a decision. Keep lying or tell the truth.