Jack woke early the following morning feeling rested. The previous day with his family had opened his eyes to this new life. A second chance. He had years to prepare for dealing with Baron Greaves. In the meantime, he could enjoy himself. Build stronger relationships with his family.

  As he lay in bed, just as the first cockerel crowed, he thought about all the things he could do. Spend time cooking with his mom and Zia. Making biscuits looked easy enough.

  Go on walks with his dad, share time together while they sketch wildlife, or pen a poem. I missed Dad’s last weekend walk. Jack was injured after fighting the goblin and the rat-faced rogue. Maybe tomorrow… if I’m not too sore from the hunt.

  When Richard got older, Jack could play ‘soldier’ with him in the courtyard. Maybe I can teach him how to use a bow… if Mom doesn’t stop us. He chuckled at the thought of his mom’s reaction.

  He thought about Polly. No idea what we’d do together. She’d probably find something inconvenient and hilarious just to annoy me. He smiled.

  “I can make some friends.” He whispered while thinking about the people he’d met since returning to his sixteen-year-old body. “Nessa and Ella seem nice. Toma’s a little young, but I enjoyed teaching him.”

  Jack heard his mom heading down the hallway. There was a light knock on his door before she pushed it open.

  “Oh. You’re up,” his mom said as she saw his eyes open. “Big day today. You up for a big breakfast?”

  Jack smiled. “Morning, Mom.” He sat up and stretched his shoulders. All the stiffness from archery practice was gone. “A big breakfast sounds perfect. You want a hand?”

  Anna’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?” Her eyes sparkled. “Always happy to have another pair of hands in the kitchen.”

  He nodded. “Give me a few minutes, and we’ll cook breakfast together.”

  Her smile widened as she stepped out of the room.

  ***

  “Dip the toast in the bacon fat… it adds flavour,” Anna advised. “That’s it, soak it all up.”

  Jack smiled as he placed the slices of toast into the still-hot frying pan. A few minutes later, they had three steaming breakfasts on the table. His dad entered the kitchen as they were finishing up.

  “Smells good,” his father said. “You ready for the hunt, Son?”

  Jack nodded as he cut into the bacon he’d helped prepare. “I’ve got everything I need ready.”

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  His father gave a thoughtful nod. “Remember, you’re going to be dealing with nobility… including their children.” He drummed his fingers on the table, a frown creasing his brow. “They can be a… handful. Try to stay away from them and be respectful.”

  Jack forced a smile. He was already aware of how entitled young nobles behaved. “I’ll try to steer clear of them, Dad.” He thought of Baron Greaves. The man still cast a shadow over every plan. Even in the warmth of the kitchen, he felt that cold draught of what was coming.

  ***

  After breakfast, Jack dressed in his new riding outfit. “It feels really comfortable, even if I do look like an idiot,” he muttered, studying himself in the bathroom mirror. “I’m glad Polly isn’t awake yet.” He smiled, imagining what insult she might come up with on the spot.

  He returned to his room and added the five inscribed spell scrolls to his breast pocket, secured his dagger at his side, slung his quiver over one shoulder, and the wrapped bow over the other. The white oak bow was still hidden beneath a strip of dark cloth to conceal its distinctive colour. Jack, on the other hand, wouldn’t be hidden beneath his mask and cloak. Today, he had to show his face.

  Jack looked at his pack. He rarely went anywhere without it; it held his scribe supplies. But his dad had advised him not to bring it to the hunt. Servants would be attending the hunt, providing refreshments and anything else the guests might need.

  He couldn’t help himself. He pulled out a small notepad and a few basic scribe tools and slipped them into his inside pocket. He felt more comfortable carrying them, even if he didn’t use them.

  “Almost forgot them,” he said, rifling through his other jacket’s pockets. The smoke bombs went into the right jacket pocket, and the blinding powders into the left.

  “Just gone five,” he muttered. Less than forty-five minutes remained before he needed to be at the Royal Library. The Baron had said six sharp, which, for a commoner, meant five-forty-five. He was expected to arrive well before any of the nobility. His father had explained that nobles would start appearing after six, with the hunt set to begin at seven.

  “Damn it!” he said while looking across at his bookshelf, where the evidence regarding Baron Greaves and the other blood mages was hidden. After the spider incident, he’d forgotten all about delivering it to the Inquisition.

  “Do I have time?” he asked himself as he quickly grabbed the bundle of papers and secured them in an envelope. “I’ll make time.”

  He wrote: Important! For The Inquisition. Across the sealed envelope and secured it in his hunting jacket.

  He had another glance at his bedroom and smiled. “See you later, PenDragon,” he said as he headed to the door.

  The little dragon acknowledged his name with a puff of aether-steam and returned to his vigil. PenDragon had scribe supplies to protect.

  Back in the kitchen, Anna admired her son in his new hunting outfit. “I don’t like hunting, but you do look smart in that outfit, Jack,” his mom said.

  Dad nodded.

  “Thanks,” Jack replied. “I’m not looking forward to the hunt, but Thorn and Tallow are excellent tailors.”

  “They are, Son,” his dad replied. “All my work clothes are made by them.” He patted his jacket.

  Jack headed to the sink for a drink of water, his nerves making him thirsty. As he filled a cup with water, he noticed a glass vase sitting on the windowsill. Within was the blood-red rose he’d picked up from Demeter’s temple. His hand itched at the memory. Is it rooting? he noticed small white roots growing from the stem. He picked up the vase. “Hey, Mom. The rose is rooting.”

  Anna nodded. “I know. I plan to pot it up when the roots are better established. It will make for a nice addition to the garden if it survives. Those petals might make some lovely rose petal jam or a nice rose tea.”

  Jack smiled at his mom, incorporating everything she could into her cooking. He put the vase back and noticed that the red petals were as vibrant as they were the day he acquired the rose. Is that normal?