Gray devoured the pancakes.

A whole hour free.

Unsupervised.

Maybe, Gray thought, it would be possible for him to make it to the town hall and back before Killian returned. He could see if there were any Haxleys in Dierne, any relatives of Barin and Harriette. The town hall directory would be somewhere to start looking for them.

He didn't think Barin had any relatives here, but it was the only idea that Gray had for tracking down Barin and warning him about Codder.

Or at this point, checking they were OK.

Guilt warred within Gray at the thought of betraying Killian's trust, and he wasn't entirely sure where the town hall was or if this was even a good idea.

There were sorcerers in the city.

Conor Griffin.

Longwark was tracking him, and he'd escaped Killian. Even if Killian had messed him up. Whatever that meant. Probably, Gray thought, he didn't want to know what that meant.

Gray cleaned the kitchen, showered, and answered the door when a messenger delivered his clothes.

He glanced curiously - quickly - at the books in the crowded den off the kitchen, only pausing at a group of portraits over the mantle. They were all of the same woman with piles of curly hair and a wide, kind smile, and two little boys with the dark eyes as Killian.

Gray glanced at the silver coin and keys on the kitchen counter.

He took them and stepped out into the street.

—

It was early enough that the street was quiet.

It was wide with pale cobblestones and lined with townhouses just like Killian's, save for the large market on the corner.

Gray ducked his head and strode up to the boundary that Killian had marked. The house with the green front door. He glanced left. Right.

And then spotted a gold-masked guard leaning against a lamp post across the road. Next to a row of Conor Griffin posters glued to the wall. Across the boundary.

Ellery Drake.

Gray raised a hand to wave.

Ellery did not wave back.

His posture was stiff.

Or, perhaps, Gray thought, pretending he'd been meaning to wave away a cloud of midgies and not wave hello, perhaps Ellery was sore or uncomfortable from the fight in the storm.

Maybe it wasn't Ellery, even though the hair, height, and build were the same.

It could be someone else.

Gray stepped back. Once. Twice.

Turning swiftly on his heel, Gray made for the markets. He was better off buying a map to find where the town hall was, anyway, instead of wandering Dierne and getting lost.

This city was big enough to swallow anyone whole.

—

Ellery Drake was gone when Gray emerged from the markets.

Something shifted in Gray's chest, and he gripped his two bags stuffed with food and hastily strode back towards Killian's home.

Music drifted up the street from Killian's neighbour. A boy lounged against the front steps of his house, boredly dribbling a ball between his feet in time to the music.

Stolen novel; please report.

He watched Gray with sharp eyes. His hair was shorn short and there was a jagged scar running over his knuckles. His top was too big and worn to be his, and somehow, effortlessly stylish because of its oldness; this was the shirt of an older brother or from a secondhand shop. The newest part was a name tag neatly sewn onto the collar, that Gray could read as he got closer.

Sidney.

Gray gave him a small nod as he approached Killian's front door.

'You're staying at the Major's place?' said Sidney. 'You one of his nephews?'

'Uh,' said Gray, 'I …'

'I like your vest.'

'Er,' said Gray, 'thanks.'

'You get three points every time you hit that lampost,' said Sidney, dribbling the ball faster.

'Uh,' said Gray, smiling uncertainly. He really didn't have time to mess around playing kickball, even if he really wanted to. He needed to change into his blacks. Be ready.

Sidney bounced the ball towards him.

Gray dropped the bags of food, just in time to catch the ball. He threw it back.

Sidney cracked a grin. 'You can't touch it with your hands.'

Gray hesitated for a split second. He didn't need to be told how to play kickball and he tackled Sidney and stole the ball back from him.

'Oh,' said Sidney, 'that's how it is, eh?'

'I,' said Gray, grinning, and passing Sidney his ball back, 'I got classes, I got to go.'

'Classes?' said Sidney. He scuffed a hand over his shorn hair. 'It's summer.'

Gray glanced up the street behind him. He had a good view. He'd be able to see Killian coming. He'd have a good minute warning, giving him time to run into the house and change, be ready …

Gray snagged the ball back from Sidney, tripping him.

A fast and furious game ensued.

At some point, other kids appeared and joined in.

Gray was in a line of kids that had - somehow - become his team, guarding the goal. Well, it was a neighbour's now battered pot plat that they'd moved into the middle of the street. But if Sidney touched the plant with the ball, life as Gray knew it was over.

The early morning sun beat down. Gray had fallen, and his palms were bleeding, and so was a huge scrape down his forearm. Sweat stung his skin.

Gray kept watch over his shoulder. There was no sign of Killian, it was fine, it hadn't been that long.

Sidney faked left and kicked the ball right, and Gray was jumping high - higher than he'd ever jumped - he had to stop the ball-

A pair of scarred hands snatched the ball out of mid-air.

There was a confused beat, as the pack of kids turned to see Killian holding the ball, staring at them with his mouth pressed into a hard line.

Gray's team scattered.

Everyone did.

The street was cleared in less than three seconds. A breeze whistled up the now deserted street.

Sidney came up behind Gray. He was in nearly as bad shape as Gray, having been at the bottom of a scuffle over the validity of a foul. He wiped blood from his nose and glared up at Killian.

'That would've made it,' said Sidney. 'You stopped my goal.'

'Mister Yarrily loves that plant like a child,' said Killian. 'You better start thinking up excuses for its condition.'

'I could tell him a wolf shifter attacked it,' said Sidney.

Killian nodded. 'Good one. Or, you could say your father had one too many last night and mistook it for your mother.'

'I'll tell him a pack of wild dogs mistook it for you,' said Sidney.

Killian threw the ball at him.

'Can your boy come over, Major?' said Sidney. 'We need to settle this score, mano e mano.'

'You're planning on playing kickball inside your house?' said Killian.

'Yeah,' said Sidney.

'Can't see anything going wrong with that,' Killian muttered. 'But, another time, we've got to go …' He paused, glancing at Gray. 'Kid, you're feeding the neighbourhood, now?'

Gray glanced at him, confused. Then, locked his gaze onto the bags of food he'd dropped a good while ago.

They were ravaged. At some point, the kids must've gotten into them and eaten everything they'd gotten their hands on. Or, maybe street dogs had, because holy Clochaint, the bags were torn.

It had taken Gray an age to find the right cut of beef at the market, and they didn't have the same spices here. He'd scoured those markets, back and forth, for comparable ingredients. Even the potatoes were destroyed.

'Oh, crap,' muttered Gray. 'I'll pay for it. Put it on my tab, OK? I'll fix it.'

'Sidney, go inside,' said Killian sharply.

Sidney shot Gray an appraising glance and turned on his heel, spinning his ball in his hands.

'You be careful what you say,' said Killian.

Gray frowned, trying to hide his confusion, coldness seeping through the heat on his skin.

'I don't want you talking about tabs, debts, I definitely don't want you talking about anything that identifies you as Gray Griffin or a mage apprentice. While you're here, you're my nephew. My brother's kid. Am I clear?'

Gray nodded, glancing up at Killian's scarred face.

Killian's shirt was creased. His shoulders were stiff.

Killian put his hand on Gray's shoulder, steering him over to the strewn bags from the market. 'The sooner Baldwin puts you in the consort palace, the better off we'll both be.'

Gray schooled his expression, turning away from Killian. He gathered three bulbs of garlic, shoving them into his pockets.

Killian picked up a squashed vine of tomatoes with a questioning glance at Gray.

Gray didn't want to think about the consort palace any more, he wanted to forget all this, just for a few hours. Playing kickball with Sidney and the other kids had felt so good, and now that it was over, the weight of everything had come back down, and it would crush Gray if he let it.

'I was going to make beef and mashed potatoes for dinner tonight,' said Gray, taking the tomatoes off Killian and adding them to the pile of rubbish he'd started. 'Like we did at the tavern in Krydon. It'd change your life.'

After living off the diet he'd had for the past few weeks, he'd kill to get his hands on food from his home.

Killian surveyed Gray with his dark gaze.

'You're not going to have a lot of time for cooking,' Killian said. 'Come.'

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