“Polly,” his mom called out, “go run your brother a hot bath. We need that filth washed off before we treat his other wounds.”

  Polly hesitated for a moment. Perhaps trying to craft a witty remark, Jack guessed. Before she headed to the bathroom. Jack couldn’t help but chuckle as he heard her complaining about being ‘his servant’ and ‘doing all the work and not being paid’.

  “Are you able to bathe yourself?” his mom asked. “You must get all that blood and dirt off, so your scratches don’t become infected.”

  “I think so,” Jack replied, twisting to test his range of movement. “I’m still sore, but much better. I’ll be alright if I take my time.” After a brief pause, he trudged towards his room. “Damn, I’m going to ache in the morning,” he muttered under his breath.

  Anna turned to Zia with a warm smile. “You did well, little one. Maybe you’ll grow up to be a great healer,” she teased. Zia returned a shy smile while Anna continued, “Next, we’ll use the remaining boiled water and herbs to treat Jack’s scratches.” She gestured towards the arranged herbs. “Would you like me to explain what each is for?”

  The little girl’s nod elicited a wide smile from Anna. “Excellent. Neither Polly nor Jack has ever cared much for this sort of thing,” She busied herself with preparations for Jack’s return. “This is going to be fun.”

  Soon after, Jack entered his room, dragging his pack and bow behind him. The pack was still stuffed full of the dead rogue’s looted gear. He stuffed it under the bed and stripped down to his underwear before heading for the bathroom.

  Just as he arrived, Polly emerged from the bathroom. “Ugh, that’s enough to ruin my appetite,” she complained while looking at her brother’s naked chest in disgust. “It’s like looking at a plucked, anaemic chicken!”

  Too tired to retort, Jack grunted and closed the door behind him. The warm, embracing heat of the bathroom wrapped around him, and he sighed with relief. Within a minute, he was immersed in the hot water, groaning as the soothing warmth eased his aching muscles. “That’s better,” he murmured, submerging his head under the water.

  When he resurfaced, a knock sounded at the door. “Are you decent?” his mom called.

  Glancing down at his naked body, Jack replied, “Not really… I’m in the bath!”

  “Hmm… I’ve got some herbs to add to the water,” she said. After a short pause, she added, “Cover your little bits. I’m coming in.”

  Jack sat up with a start, water splashing onto the floor as his mother swept into the room. He rushed to cover himself, his face etched with astonishment. His mom carried a bowl of pungent herbs over to him and, without a word, dumped its contents into his bath, and turned on her heels, leaving swirling vapour spirals in the humid air as she closed the door behind her.

  “After you dry off, come back to the kitchen without your top,” she instructed from the other side of the door. “I’m assuming you don’t have any open cuts on your lower body. If you do, let me know.”

  “Okay… erm, thanks, Mom?” Jack blinked at the surreal moment and stirred the stinky concoction into the bathwater, a small part of him afraid she’d barge back in if he didn’t. “That door needs a lock,” he muttered.

  Back in his room, dressed in just trousers and socks, Jack sat down and 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?

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  With mock sincerity, Polly said, “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. He was sore and exhausted, but he felt clean, safe, and was surrounded by the warmth of his loving family. “They’re so good to me,” he muttered. “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 instructed.

  Jack obeyed and spent the next twenty minutes at the mercy of his smiling mother as she instructed Zia how to smear herbal pastes over his cuts, scratches, and bruises. The earthy smell made his nose tingle as they worked to cover him in herbal 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.

  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 Jack 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?” he asked with 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 replied. “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 said while scrutinising 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,” his mom said. “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 told him. “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 mother got up to help Zia. “If you feel hot and sweaty in the night, wake me up. Better safe than sorry,” she said. “Now off to bed with you. I had Polly make your bed while we were treating your cuts and bruises.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” he replied while getting up. 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 he was asleep within minutes of his head touching the pillow.

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