If he believed he had even a glimmer of a choice, Matt would have abandoned Rachel and Tassel before they had even left the High School. Rachel, the budding witch that she was, had attached herself to Tassel like a leech. Tassel, of course, was eating it up - he led Rachel through the city without begging a single question. Matt and Lana had no choice to follow, and given that Tassel might be able to listen in to any conversation they were having whether or not he was in earshot, they had resorted to very simple dialogue.

  The streets began to clear as the creeping smell of petrichor filled the air. Merchants frantically packed up their carts, some pausing to serve a few trailing customers. Tassel led them around corner after corner without pause, passing tiny parks, bubbling fountains and quickly emptying squares. The smells alone were enough to draw Matt’s attention - greasy fried food mixed with roasted meat and heady wafts of spices. An open pipe vented sweet-smelling steam out onto the street from an underground kitchen, and Matt’s stomach grumbled heartily in anticipation.

  “I heard that from here,” Lana commented, cracking a grin. “You must be starving.”

  Matt mirrored Lana’s smile. “I’d still rather get out of the rain. I’m hungry, but not that hungry.”

  “You grew up in Whitehead,” Rachel called over her shoulder. “Rain is basically your middle name.”

  Matt held himself back from a double take. “Pardon me for sympathizing with the locals.”

  He knew that Lana wouldn’t catch Rachel’s comment as anything more than a tease, but he knew she had said it to remind him what his story was. He couldn’t just tell people he was a Lyrianite - he had to act like one as well.

  “I appreciate the sympathy,” Lana sighed. “Though it’d be nice if you sent us a little more rain once in a while.”

  More rain? Why would anyone want more rain? “What for?”

  Lana shrugged. “Crops. Gardens. My little flowerpot outside my dorm. What drowns in Whitehead dries up in Trensicourt.”

  As she spoke, Tassel veered left, leading them through a tight alley covered with overlapping wooden shingles. Though he hadn’t yet felt a drop of rain, he could hear periodic taps from above as little droplets splashed against the shingles. At the back of the alley, Tassel ducked through a small door covered in flyers and scribblings, leaving Rachel to hold it for Matt and Lana. Lana just barely fit through the opening without having to duck, then turned around to gloat as Matt slouched down to enter.

  “Yeah, rub it in,” Matt grumbled dramatically, rolling his eyes.

  Lana raised her eyebrows. “As if I have anything else to hold over you, tall guy.”

  Matt rolled his eyes. She had a point.

  “Keep your hands out,” Tassel warned from up ahead. Matt obeyed, turning in unison with Lana as Tassel led them up an uneven set of stone stairs. There was not quite enough light for Matt to see Lana’s toe catch on a step but, hearing her startled yelp, he lunged forward to catch her. One hand flew to her hip, the other to her shoulder, just for long enough to make sure she was still upright, then they both flew back to his side. He ducked awkwardly, hoping Lana wouldn’t think anything of it but bracing for the worst.

  “Thanks,” Lana muttered over her shoulder, then raised her voice. “Would it kill you to give us a light?”

  A door creaked open at the top of the staircase, and muted gray light spilled through it, revealing cracked wooden walls and two empty hooks that Matt assumed must have held oil lamps. A faint smell of dust and wood smoke seethed down the staircase. In any other situation, Matt supposed it would smell a lot like home.

  “I would have,” Tassel smirked, “but you two had an adorable moment back there.”

  Rachel pushed past Tassel, shaking her head. “Cut it, Cupid.”

  A twinge of hope tickled Matt’s throat, forcing him to wipe it away. Rachel seemed almost… jealous. Maybe there might still be something there. Something possible.

  Matt and Lana passed through the open doorway and into a cozy living space. Two small windows weren’t quite enough to light the whole space, but as Matt watched, Tassel spoke a quick command, gathering enough heat to light three evenly spaced oil lamps on the far wall. There was no furniture in the room - simply a sun-faded rug and a plethora of small burgundy pillows. The smell of wood smoke grew much stronger as Matt stepped towards the center of the room, and for the first time he noticed an unlit wood stove by the staircase door.

  “Don’t tell me this is all there is,” Rachel sniffed.

  Tassel scoffed. “I have to cook somewhere. There’s a kitchen through that door. Bedroom and bathroom through that other one.”

  Rachel took a deep breath. “What kind of toilet?”

  “This isn’t the Fleabed,” Tassel sniffed. “A wizard should have a few luxuries.”

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “You’re avoiding my question.”

  Tassel wrinkled his nose. “It doesn’t empty out onto the street, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  “Wonderful,” Rachel grumbled. “At least it’s not a vector for disease.”

  “He never said that,” Lana chimed in.

  Tassel let out a colossal sigh. “It empties into the sewer system. Happy?”

  “Yes,” Rachel said indignantly, immediately turning on her heel and rushing out of the room. She pulled the door behind her, but let go before it could fully close.

  Tassel shrugged, then waved for Matt and Lana to follow him to the kitchen. “That answers that question.”

  “Are you cooking us dinner?” Lana asked innocently.

  Tassel cocked his head. “I bought the ingredients. I believe that means you’re the cook.”

  “Me?” Lana frowned. “Why not Rachel? Matt?”

  “Should we not welcome them to Trensicourt with a local specialty?”

  “I can help,” Matt tried. “I don’t know-”

  “Nothing you can help with,” Tassel interrupted. “Go drag Rachel out of the toilet before she gets her head stuck in there.”

  Matt turned and stomped out of the kitchen, an oily hatred leaking into his gut. How dare Tassel treat Rachel like that behind her back? How dare he treat Matt like that? He crossed the living room and slipped through the door Rachel left ajar, resolving to convince her to leave Tassel behind.

  He was sick of being the only one who cared at all about Jason.

  Rachel pushed the bathroom door open and peered around it, spotting Matt as he waited in the hallway. A frown passed like a shadow over her face, then dissipated as quickly as it came. Matt held his ground, though he wanted nothing more than to back away.

  “Your turn,” Rachel said without preamble.

  Matt bit his lip. “I’m good. I was waiting for you.”

  Rachel raised her eyebrows. “Hell of a place to accost me.”

  “No, not like that.” Heat rose in Matt’s cheeks. “Tassel told me to come get you.”

  Rachel bugged her eyes out dramatically. “And you obeyed him?”

  “Yeah. I guess. There was nothing else for me to do.”

  Rachel sighed and started past him, leading him back into the living room. “Don’t teach him to order us around. We’re not his lapdogs.”

  “Says you,” Matt muttered, more loudly than he meant to.

  Rachel crouched down, pulled a pillow under her, then sat down cross-legged. “That’s better. We should practice.”

  Anger warmed Matt’s chest. “Answer me.”

  Rachel tilted her head and motioned for Matt to sit down. “You’ve given me nothing to answer.”

  Matt bent down, then realized that Rachel was testing him. He stood back up, straightening and taking a short step towards her. “Are you not his lapdog?”

  Rachel smiled up at him, so genuinely that he almost lost his nerve. “Good. Sit down. We need to talk.”

  Matt stayed standing. The sound and smell of frying onions began to seep into the living room, though there was remarkably little chatter coming from the kitchen.

  “No, seriously,” Rachel said. “I’m not testing you.”

  “Tests prepare us for the real world,” Matt countered.

  Rachel sighed, then muttered a sung command under her breath. Matt, whether he wanted to or not, hastily sat down next to her. He couldn’t help but notice how close Rachel had chosen to put him - close enough to feel a strange tingle in his shoulder when she shifted.

  Matt decided that, whether for purposes of indignance or potential romance, he should stay put and listen.

  “We don’t know where Jason is,” Rachel said plainly.

  Matt let the silence hang for a moment before replying. “So you do still think about him.”

  “What, are you jealous?” Rachel said incredulously.

  “No, no.” Matt tried unsuccessfully to hold back a blush. “I just thought you had forgotten.”

  Rachel shook her head. “I haven’t been to Trensicourt since I was thirteen. People have changed. I’ve changed.”

  “What does that mean for us?”

  Rachel closed her eyes. “It means that, for the time being, we have to entertain Tassel. He’s our only lead. If anyone’s powerful enough to find him…”

  “It’s him,” Matt finished reluctantly. “So why haven’t we already asked him?”

  Rachel scoffed. “Have you tried asking him for a favor?”

  Matt had to admit she had a point. “Hm.”

  Rachel took a deep breath, then leaned slightly towards him. “Do you not hate that Lana’s alone in there with Tassel?”

  Matt shifted, suddenly very uncomfortable. In truth, he couldn’t stand the idea of anyone being alone with Tassel - but here was a chance. Here was a chance to distance himself from Lana, maybe even to…

  “I mean, I…” Matt stammered, cursing himself. “I’m not into her or anything.”

  “Hm.” Rachel’s shoulders dropped ever so slightly.

  “Should I be worried?” Matt spun to face Rachel, then immediately regretted it. His right shoulder felt suddenly cold, removed from the warmth he had not realized they were sharing. He thought to spin back towards her, but hesitated.

  Rachel shook her head. “Let them. It’ll make it easier to leave when we know where Jason is.”

  A timid warmth flickered in Matt’s chest. “They won’t be coming with us?”

  “No.” Rachel uncrossed her legs and stretched forward, grabbing her toes and ducking her head towards her knees. “They don’t want what we want. They’ll only slow us down.”

  Matt smiled and tried a little stretch of his own. He was unsurprised to find that he was much less flexible after the weeks on the road. They stayed for what seemed like an eternity until Lana swung open the door to the kitchen as if it were the floodgates of home. Matt recognized nothing in the smell that filled the room, though he could easily define it as a pure concoction of comfort food.

  He followed Rachel into the kitchen, an uncomfortable feeling whispering that Rachel had gleaned much more from their conversation than she had let on.