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My head throbbed. I landed hard on the street after the teleportation spell, and the disorientation remained for a while. Long enough for Ace to drag me around whatever city we were in and shove some fruit in my hands.
I narrowed my eyes at the apples in confusion, and then I looked around the street we were on. “Where did you find apples?”
“There’s a market on the street over,” he said, wiping apple juice from his chin. He was halfway done his already. “You should eat something.”
Apples didn’t sound like dinner, but it was better than tree bark and questionable berries.
“We need a plan to get home,” I said, finally biting into an apple.
Ace hummed, his attention on the rooftops. “I’m going to scout the city from above. Stay here, okay?”
He didn’t wait for an answer before using a shop window to jump up to a sign, hauling himself up from there and scampering onto the roof.
I stared at the spot he’d disappeared, trying to track the invisible handholds he’d used to get up there. “What?”
He returned about five minutes later, jumping down in front of me out of nowhere. “This way.” Gesturing for me to follow, he took off down the street.
There was an energy to him in this city he’d been lacking for the last few days, and not just because he’d been sick. The city brought him to life in a way the woods hadn’t. He moved differently, slipping effortlessly between people, hands slipping into the occasional pocket.
I frowned at the thievery. “Ace.”
He glanced back. “What?”
Catching up to him, I pointed at the change purse now in his own pocket. “Give it back.”
“We need it more than they do,” he said.
“That doesn’t make stealing okay,” I hissed.
Shrugging, he continued walking. “Survival isn’t about what’s right or wrong. It’s about what works.”
That was a depressing comment that got me to shut up for several minutes.
He continued to lead us through the city, away from the crowds and to the more rundown part of town. The streetlights weren’t lit over here, and I saw no evidence of a lamplighter anywhere. People huddled in doorways, and the shop windows were boarded up or broken.
“Where are we going?” I asked. I failed to see how anything around here would get us home. It seemed more likely we’d be murdered than anything else.
“Finding some place quiet to sleep. Unless you want to pass out in the cold?”
I didn’t, but I’d also prefer not to pass out at all. “We should keep moving.”
“Neither of us know this city. It’s not a good idea to wander around at night.”
Fair point, but it still didn’t sit right with me. That was too much time sitting around doing nothing when we could be pleading with guards for a ride or something. At the very least, we should figure out where in Wingomia we were.
“We’ll figure something out in the morning,” he said.
If we lived that long. I eyed the dilapidated buildings. “But why here?”
“Because you’re not going to find an unclaimed spot in the middle of town,” he said.
He stopped in front of one of the houses, tilting his head as he considered it.
The house in question looked one good windstorm away from being a pile of rubble. We saw straight through to the back, each window nothing more than a hole in the siding.
“This could work,” he said.
I gaped at him. “Are you serious? I thought we were looking for someplace warm!”
“Relax, I’ll rig up a stove and board up the windows, it’ll be fine. Let’s check it out.” He bounded up the steps and knocked on the front door.
“Check it out?” I repeated. “Are you insane? This place is going to collapse any minute!”
Snorting, he gave the door frame a few good kicks.
I winced, expecting the place to topple over and crush him.
The house remained standing.
“It’s not going anywhere,” he said. “Doesn’t sound like anyone is inside, either. Good news for us.”
“Yippee.”
Unperturbed by my lack of enthusiasm, he climbed in through one of the broken windows and unlocked the door from the inside for me. Because whoever owned this house was clearly concerned about thieves these days.
I missed the palace and having nice, sturdy walls. When we get back, I will never take solid walls for granted again.
“You coming or not?” Ace called from inside the house.
Gripping my watch in case I needed a quick save, I stepped into the house.
Ace rummaged through the rooms, tossing things into nonsensical piles. It all looked like trash to me, but he clearly saw something different in the sofa upholstery and stuffing.
“What exactly are you doing?” I asked.
He nodded at the upholstery. “If we tack that over the windows, it will help keep the wind out and the heat in. Some solid boards would be good, too, but I don’t have any nails.”
I lifted up the sofa stuffing. “And this?”
“Fuel for fire,” he replied, moving into the hallway. His hand trailed along the paneling on the wall, thoughtful, and then he continued into the dining room. “Excellent, the chairs are still here.”
“Why are chairs—”
My question was interrupted by the sound of something smashing and wood splintering.
I ran into the dining room. Ace had slammed a chair against the floor, breaking the legs off. He kicked loose pieces free and piled them all by the door to the kitchen. “Why?” was all I could ask.
“Firewood,” he said.
“Aren’t there easier ways to get firewood?” I asked, watching in horror as he methodically broke every single dining room chair. He’d probably have broken the table, too, if it wasn’t so thick.
“Unless you’ve got an ax and some trees, not really,” he said.
He continued like this throughout the house, breaking anything he thought would burn and stealing whatever he found useful.
In the end, he dragged one of the dirty mattresses from upstairs down to the kitchen and started shoving chair legs and couch stuffing into the ancient iron stove. The dining room table was propped up like a door to the kitchen, rather than boarding up all the windows, because that was less suspicious and we only needed to heat the one room anyway.
I sat on the mattress in awe, watching him coax a fire to life in the stove with the aged flintstones.
He had no hesitation about any of this. For him, it was routine, just another day.
If I’d been out here on my own, I’d have ended up on someone’s doorstep, freezing through the night, possibly killed by some crazy person.
He made surviving like this, with nothing but the clothes on our backs, look easy. And it’s heartbreaking to know he had to learn all this the hard way while I was tucked safely into my own bed at home.
The fire sparked to life, and he slapped the little door shut. Heat started to fill the room.
“That should do it,” he said proudly, joining me on the mattress. He finally noticed the look I’d been giving him all night. “What?”
“I don’t know whether I should be impressed or heartbroken right now.”
His face twisted. “Why would you be heartbroken?”
“Because you know how to do all this stuff, and you shouldn’t have to. Someone should have been taking care of you.”
His face went blank. “Yeah, well. Life didn’t pan out that way.”
He started to get up to go do something, maybe just sit on the other side of the room, but I grabbed his arm and dragged him back down. “It will from now on.”
Ace blinked.
“I promise, someone will be there to take care of you now,” I said.
He pried his arm free. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”
“It’s not about need.”
He gave me a long look.
I made sure to keep my face determined. There would be someone from now on, whether he stayed in the palace with me or not. I wouldn’t let him go back to sleeping in abandoned houses with broken furniture for firewood.
“Do what you want,” he finally said.
His words made it sound like he didn’t really care, but there was a look in his eye, half curious, half doubtful, that made me think he meant it more as a challenge.
Challenge accepted.