Jack woke hours later, his stomach reminding him of its existence. He shuffled downstairs, where the smell of roasted meat and baked root vegetables hit him like a warm spell.

  His family was gathered at the table.

  “Are you hungry, Son?” his mom asked, smiling as he entered.

  Jack nodded, rubbing his eyes. “Starving.” He slid into a seat.

  “How’re you feeling?” his dad asked from the head of the table.

  Jack smiled. “Much better, thanks to Mom’s quick actions.” He looked towards her with gratitude, remembering how calm she’d been dealing with the spiders. “You were amazing, Mom.”

  His father gave a firm nod. “That she is. I’ve seen generals panic under fire, but your mother… cool as a mountain stream.” He stroked his neat beard in thought.

  Anna blushed and waved the compliment away. “I did what anyone else would’ve done.”

  Polly snorted. “Not true, Mom.” She gave her customary smirk. “I’d have hit him with a shoe until his legs stopped twitching.”

  Zia giggled, spilling her drink.

  Jack rolled his eyes. “Remind me to never get bitten near you.”

  Anna placed a steaming plate of food in front of him.

  Jack inhaled. “Smells incredible. Thanks, Mom.” He ate with the kind of enthusiasm only multiple near-death experiences can produce, spending the next hour surrounded by teasing, laughter, and the comforting clink of cutlery.

  Full and tired all over, he pushed back from the table. “I think I’ll have an early night.”

  Anna kissed the top of his head. “Sleep well, spider slayer.”

  “You mean spider snack,” Polly added with a nervous laugh.

  Didn’t you scream and lock yourself in your bedroom in fear? Jack’s memory was sketchy, but he was sure she’d screamed. He chuckled as he headed for the stairs to get more sleep. I still owe you a prank. Not spiders!

  ***

  The following morning, Jack’s eyes fluttered open to the low, steady hum of pipes releasing spent aether-steam. Pale light filtered through his curtains, casting soft lines across his blankets. For once, he wasn’t waking from a nightmare or memory drenched in fire and regret. No, today felt… normal.

  He sat up and rubbed sleep from his eyes, feeling the warmth of the morning sun against his face. “I really did need a day off.” He was feeling better than he had at any time since waking up in his sixteen-year-old body. “Though next time I won’t involve spiders.” He shivered at the memories. “No more pranks involving spiders.”

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  Tomorrow was the hunt, so today would be a day of rest and relaxation, but without spiders paralysing him so he literally couldn’t get up.

  He looked around his room. It was neat and tidy, but not how he liked it. He spent the next half an hour putting everything back in its rightful place. He felt better for it.

  Jack dressed in his softest shirt and clean trousers before padding downstairs. The scent of fresh bread greeted him, warm and inviting. His mother, already at work, was turning dough into golden loaves, her hair tied up with a blue ribbon that kept threatening to escape. Zia sat at the table with a cup of milk in both hands, legs swinging under the chair. She looked up and gave him a sleepy smile.

  “You’re up early,” his mom said. “Did you sleep all right? Any problems from the spider bites?”

  Jack smiled. “Best sleep I’ve had all week… and no, I feel great.”

  She smiled back, brushing flour from her hands. “Good. You’ve looked tired recently.”

  He stepped into the kitchen and gave her a quick hug. “What’s for breakfast?”

  Zia was a little too slow in getting in on the hug action, so she settled for two single hugs. A quick one from Jack, and a longer one from their mom.

  “Bacon, fried bread, and mushrooms. And don’t touch the apple tarts cooling by the window. They’re for the High House on Copper Row.” Anna said while adjusting Zia’s ribbon.

  “Not even one?” he sounded disappointed and curled up his lips in a pathetic attempt to gain sympathy. It failed, but Zia found it funny and copied his face.

  “You can lick the spoon,” his mom said.

  Jack grinned and did just that. Zia giggled. “Want some?” he offered, holding out the spoon.

  She hesitated, then nodded and took a careful lick. “Mmm… tastes like cinnamon and magic.”

  Jack chuckled. “That’s mom’s secret recipe.”

  The baby stirred. Jack scooped up Richard with care, bouncing him as he wandered the hallway. “Who’s the brave dragon slayer?” he whispered, his nose wrinkling. “And who smells like they’ve conquered a cabbage monster the hard way?”

  Polly appeared in the doorway. “Ha… you’re changing him.”

  Jack froze mid-bounce. “You sure I can’t trade that task for eternal gratitude?”

  “Nope.” Polly shook her head.

  “Come on, I’ll, erm… write you a poem for your terrible play.” He grinned.

  Zia sat listening to their banter while licking the spoon and bowl clean.

  “You’re definitely not getting my help now,” Polly said, smiling. “I was going to show pity on my big brother and help,” she lied. “But with you being so cruel and mean to your sweet, innocent, little sister… you can go eat a dirty nappy.”

  Zia chuckled.

  Jack sighed, grinning. “Betrayed by the sister I used to tuck into bed.”

  “Justice,” she said with a smug grin. Leaning into Zia, she whispered, “That’s how you treat our older brother. You can’t be nice to him as he’ll take advantage. He’ll have us making him biscuits for free if we aren’t careful.” She chuckled.

  Zia giggled.

  “Hey, don’t go corrupting innocent little Zia,” Jack complained. “I had high hopes of turning her into my first loyal follower when I start the ‘We Don’t Like Polly Support Group’.”

  Polly applauded… slowly. “That was almost funny.” She headed towards the stairs. “Have fun with the diarrhoea.”

  “Thanks,” Jack replied with as much enthusiasm as a dog visiting the vets.

  After changing his little brother, he spent the morning relaxing and spending time with his family.

  ***

  At noon, Polly burst into the kitchen, her arms full of fabric samples and sketches. “I need your opinion,” she said without preamble, dumping everything onto the table beside Jack’s half-eaten toast.

  Jack raised an eyebrow. “Why me?”

  “Because you’re here and not a complete idiot.” She gestured at a chaotic spread of colours and thread. “This one or this one?”

  Jack stared. “They’re the same.”

  “No. That one’s plum mauve. The other is winter violet. Big difference.” She stood with her hands on her hips, looking offended.

  Zia leaned over. “I like the shiny one.”

  Polly blinked. “Actually… yes. You have a better eye than that idiot.”

  “Rude,” Jack muttered.

  Polly grinned. “Yes… But still true.”

  Polly was gone a minute later, her dark curls bouncing as she rushed back to her room. Jack smiled as she left.