Upstairs, the noise of the tavern didn't disappear.
It softened.
Like it had been folded into the walls and left there to hum quietly instead of spill out. The stairs creaked under their weight, the wood worn from years of use but steady, familiar. The hallway at the top was narrow, lit by a single window at the far end where daylight slipped in and stretched across the floor in a pale strip.
Three doors.
Close together.
Nothing marked.
Nothing grand.
Just space.
Edrin paused there, one hand resting briefly against the nearest door as if confirming it was real before pushing it open. Inside, the room was simple—bed, small table, basin. Clean in the way that mattered, not in the way that tried to impress.
"This will do," he said.
Garrick gave a short nod and stepped inside without question.
The second room went the same.
Edrin took it without ceremony, setting the folded document from the registry down on the table as if placing something fragile that couldn't be risked again so soon.
The third—
Bram nudged the door open with his shoulder, stepping in first.
"…we're sharing," he said.
Kael followed.
"Obviously."
The room wasn't much different. Two narrow beds, a small window, a chair tucked into the corner. The air carried a faint scent of old wood and something clean beneath it—soap, maybe.
It wasn't the pit.
It wasn't the road.
It wasn't anything they knew.
Bram dropped onto one of the beds immediately, the springs creaking under his weight as he stretched out like he hadn't decided yet if it was safe to trust.
"…this is weird," he muttered again, staring at the ceiling.
Kael didn't answer.
He stood for a moment, just inside the doorway, taking it in.
Nothing moved.
Nothing watched.
Nothing waited.
He crossed the room slowly and sat on the edge of the other bed, testing it the same way he tested everything—carefully, like it might give out if he assumed it wouldn't.
It didn't.
The silence settled.
Not empty.
Just… there.
Bram shifted once, then stilled.
"Wake me if something explodes," he mumbled.
Kael glanced at him.
"…what."
"I don't know," Bram muttered, already half gone. "This place feels like it might."
Then he was out.
Just like that.
Kael sat there a moment longer.
Then leaned back.
Not fully.
Not at first.
His body resisted it—waiting for the catch, the moment something would demand he move again.
It didn't come.
The quiet held.
And slowly—
Without deciding to—
He let his eyes close.
—
When he woke, it wasn't sudden.
No jolt.
No instinct dragging him back to awareness.
Just… return.
The light had shifted. Softer now, lower through the window, stretching longer across the floor. The room felt warmer, the air less sharp.
Bram was still asleep.
Curled slightly now, one arm thrown over his face, breathing deep and even like nothing in the world had ever taught him not to.
Kael sat up.
The motion pulled faintly across his chest—the burns still there, still healing—but dulled now by rest. The deeper strain in his arm lingered too, quieter than before but not gone.
He rolled his shoulder once.
Tested it.
Better.
Not enough.
But better.
He stood.
The floor didn't move.
That alone made something in him ease, just slightly.
He crossed to the door and opened it without noise.
The hallway was quiet.
One of the other doors remained closed.
The third stood slightly ajar.
Voices drifted faintly from below—louder now than before, the tavern settled into its later rhythm.
Kael stepped out.
Behind him, Bram stirred.
"…where're you going," he muttered, voice thick with sleep.
"Downstairs."
A pause.
Then a groan.
"…wait."
Bram pushed himself up slower this time, dragging a hand through his hair before standing. He stretched once, wincing faintly, then shook it off.
"Don't leave me here," he added.
Kael didn't respond.
But he waited.
That was enough.
—
Downstairs had shifted.
The light had dimmed slightly, replaced by the warmer glow of lamps. The tavern had filled in that quiet, steady way—not crowded, not loud enough to overwhelm, just… occupied.
The man behind the counter glanced up briefly when they came down.
Then nodded once.
"Food's on his tab," he said, jerking his head vaguely upward toward where Edrin had gone.
Bram blinked.
"…his tab?"
"He will pay me back what yall eat and drink later," the man said simply.
Then went back to what he was doing.
That was that.
Bram looked at Kael.
"…I like him."
Kael didn't answer.
But he didn't disagree.
They didn't stay in the main room.
Not yet.
Too many people.
Too much movement.
Instead, Bram drifted toward the back without really thinking about it, drawn by something else—the smell, stronger now, heavier, warmer than before.
Kael followed.
Not because he wanted to.
Because he wasn't letting him wander alone.
The kitchen wasn't closed off.
Just… there.
A doorway that led into another space where the air shifted again, thicker with heat, with the scent of food actually being made instead of served.
Inside, a woman stood over a large pot, stirring slowly, the motion steady and practiced. Another pan sat off to the side, something sizzling low, the sound soft but constant.
She glanced up when they stepped in.
Not startled.
Not annoyed.
Just… noticing.
"Well," she said, a small smile already forming, "you two look like you found the right place."
Bram froze for half a second.
Then straightened slightly.
"…we weren't told not to come back here," he said.
She laughed softly.
"That's not usually how it works, people usually know not to just walk into the kitchen," she replied. "But I'll allow it."
Her attention shifted between them, taking them in the way people here seemed to—quick, but not dismissive.
"You must be with Edrin," she added.
Kael didn't answer.
Bram did.
"Yeah."
She nodded, like that explained enough.
"He's upstairs still resting, along with the other man.," she said.
"That tracks," Bram muttered.
She smiled again, then turned back to the pot, stirring once before reaching for something else.
"You hungry?" she asked, casual, like the answer didn't matter either way.
Bram hesitated.
Then—
"…yeah."
Kael didn't speak.
But he didn't leave either.
She glanced over her shoulder at them, eyes soft but sharp in their own way.
"Sit," she said, nodding toward a small table tucked against the wall. "Before you fall over from hunger ."
Bram huffed a quiet breath.
"…it's not that bad—"
"Sit," she repeated, gentler this time.
He did.
Without arguing again.
Kael remained standing for a second longer.
Then followed.
The chair felt strange.
Too normal.
Too easy.
The woman moved around the kitchen with quiet efficiency, pulling together something simple but warm, setting it down in front of them without ceremony.
"Eat," she said.
Not a command.
Not really.
But it held anyway.
Bram didn't hesitate this time.
Kael did.
Only for a second.
Then reached for it.
The first bite didn't taste like survival.
Didn't taste like something scraped together just to keep going.
It tasted like it had been made on purpose.
That was worse.
In a way he couldn't explain.
Across from him, Bram slowed slightly, like he'd realized the same thing.
"…this is," he started, then stopped.
"Good, I hope?" she offered lightly.
"…yeah," he said.
She smiled again, softer this time, then turned back to her cooking like that was all there was to it.
Nothing special.
Nothing rare.
Just something given.
The kitchen held them there.
Not by force.
By something quieter.
The warmth settled into the space around them, into the wood of the table, into the air that carried the scent of whatever simmered in the pot behind her. It wasn't overwhelming. It didn't crowd them.
It just stayed.
The woman moved easily between the stove and the counter, like the room itself followed her rhythm. A small adjustment here, a turn of the spoon, a glance at the pan that didn't need one but got it anyway.
She didn't rush them.
Didn't watch them eat like she was measuring it.
But she didn't ignore them either.
After a moment, she wiped her hands on a cloth and turned slightly, leaning one hip against the counter as she looked at them properly.
"I'm Lily," she said, voice calm, steady. "Since you've made yourselves at home."
Bram swallowed, a little slower this time, like he remembered he was supposed to act like he belonged.
"…Bram."
Her gaze shifted.
Kael met it for a second.
"Kael."
She nodded once, taking both names in without repeating them, like she trusted herself to remember.
Then, gently, "So… how do you know Edrin?"
The question didn't press.
But it didn't drift either.
It landed and stayed.
Bram's hand paused halfway back to the table.
His eyes flicked to Kael again.
Not obvious.
But enough.
Kael didn't answer right away.
He let the silence sit just long enough to feel like thinking instead of avoiding.
Then—
"Grandfather. He was looking for us," Kael said.
Lily's expression didn't change much.
But her attention sharpened just slightly.
"Was he."
Kael nodded once.
"Our parents moved north," he continued, voice even. "He thought we were still there."
Lily shifted her weight a little, not interrupting, just following.
"And you weren't."
Kael's gaze dropped briefly to the table.
Then lifted again.
"No."
A pause.
Small.
Measured.
"The village got attacked," he said. "We got split."
The words stayed simple.
They didn't reach for anything more than they needed.
Across from him, Bram picked it up.
"I didn't even know where he went," Bram added, rubbing the back of his neck like the memory didn't sit right. "Or anyone, really. Just… gone."
Lily's eyes moved between them again.
"And Edrin found you after that."
"Yeah," Bram said quickly, nodding. "Later."
Kael didn't correct it.
Didn't expand it.
But his shoulders had gone just slightly still again, the kind of stillness that didn't belong to comfort.
Lily noticed.
Of course she did.
But she didn't push.
Instead, she let out a small breath and turned back to the stove, stirring once before reaching for another bowl.
"That sounds like him," she said lightly.
Bram blinked.
"…what does."
"Getting himself lost in the middle of something complicated," she replied, faint amusement in her voice. "And somehow walking out of it with more people than he started with."
There was warmth in it.
Familiarity.
Not doubt.
She set another portion down between them like it had always been meant to be there.
"Eat more," she added. "You both look like you've been chewing on rocks."
Bram huffed a quiet laugh under his breath.
"…we had worse."
"I don't doubt that," she said.
The door behind them opened then.
Heavier this time.
Bootsteps. The man that talked to edrin earlier, the owner of the tavern.
Hank, the owner edrins friend stepped in, the frame of him filling the doorway for a second before he moved fully inside.
He stopped when he saw them.
Not surprised.
Just… taking it in.
"Of course they found the kitchen," he muttered.
Lily didn't look up.
"They were hungry."
"They're all hungry," Hank replied.
His gaze moved over Bram first.
Then to Kael.
It stayed there a second longer.
Not suspicious.
Not friendly either.
Just… weighing.
"You're the boys he brought in," Hank said.
Bram nodded quickly.
"…yeah."
Hank jerked his chin slightly.
"Names."
"Bram."
Another nod.
Then—
"Kael."
Hank's eyes lingered there again.
Something in his expression shifted.
Not enough to name.
But enough to feel.
"…right," he said after a second.
He stepped further in, resting one hand briefly against the back of a chair as he looked toward Lily .
"They give you a story yet?"
Lily didn't answer immediately.
She glanced at the boys instead.
Then back at Hank.
"Enough of one."
Hank huffed softly through his nose.
"That means it's Edrin's version."
Kael didn't react.
Bram looked like he wanted to.
Didn't.
Hank straightened slightly, folding his arms as he leaned back just enough to settle into the room.
"He told me he went north looking for family," Hank said, eyes flicking back to them. "Ran into trouble on the way back."
Kael held his gaze.
"That's about right."
It wasn't a challenge.
But it wasn't soft either.
Hank studied him for another second.
Then gave a short nod.
"Mm."
Like that was enough for now.
Not believed.
Not rejected.
Just… set aside.
He shifted his attention back to Lily .
"Put it on his tab?"
"Of course," she said.
Hank glanced at the bowls, then back at the boys.
"He doesn't have coin on him right now," he said plainly. "Not until the Crown sorts his records out."
Bram blinked.
"…so—"
"He'll pay," Hank cut in, not unkindly. "If he's the man I remember him to be."
A beat.
Then, quieter, almost to himself
"And if he's not, I'll still get my coin somehow."
Lily gave him a look.
Not sharp.
Just enough.
Hank raised a hand slightly in surrender.
"Joking."
He wasn't.
Not entirely.
But he let it sit there anyway.
The kitchen settled again after that.
The pot simmered.
The pan hissed.
Lily moved back into her rhythm like the conversation had only been a brief interruption.
Bram ate slower now.
Not because he didn't want it.
Because he was thinking.
Kael sat still for a moment longer after Hank's gaze left him.
Then reached for the bowl again.
The food was still warm.
Still real.
Still something he didn't quite know how to hold onto.
But he didn't stop eating.
And for now—
That was enough.
The quiet didn't break after that.
It stretched.
Not awkward.
Not heavy.
Just… present, like everything else in the room.
Hank moved around them without hurry, pulling a mug from the shelf and pouring something dark into it. He didn't leave right away. Didn't crowd them either. Just stayed within the space, leaning lightly against the counter like he had nowhere else more important to be.
Lily shifted past him once, brushing his arm without looking, the movement easy and familiar. He didn't react to it. Just adjusted his stance slightly so she could pass.
It was small.
But it was… something.
Kael noticed it.
The way people here moved around each other without bracing.
Without expecting the contact to turn into something else.
His hand tightened slightly around the spoon.
Then eased.
Across from him, Bram had slowed even more, staring down at his bowl like he was trying to figure out how something this simple existed without a catch.
"…do people just come in here whenever they want?" Bram asked after a while, glancing toward the doorway.
Lily huffed a quiet breath that might have been a laugh.
"Not usually into the kitchen," she said. "But the front, yes."
Bram frowned slightly.
"They don't… get pushed out?"
"No."
"Or told to leave?"
"Only if they cause trouble."
He blinked.
"…that's it?"
Hank snorted softly into his drink.
"That's it," he said.
Bram leaned back just slightly, processing that like it didn't sit right.
"…huh."
Kael didn't join in.
His attention had shifted elsewhere.
Not outward.
In.
The movement of his arm had pulled the fabric of his sleeve just enough to drag across his skin. The edge of an old scar caught the light for a second—thin, pale against everything else. Another, lower, darker. Not clean. Not recent either.
There were more.
Not all visible.
But enough.
Lily saw them.
Not immediately.
But eventually.
Her gaze passed over him once, then came back slower, settling just briefly on the line of his forearm where the cloth had shifted.
She didn't say anything.
Didn't react.
But something in her expression softened—not into pity, not into alarm. Just… awareness.
She turned back to the stove a second later like she hadn't seen it at all.
Like it didn't need to be pointed at to be understood.
Kael noticed that too.
That she didn't ask.
Didn't look again.
It sat differently than everything else.
He wasn't sure what to do with that.
Hank set his mug down with a quiet thud and pushed off the counter, stepping a little closer—not into their space, just nearer.
"You two staying long?" he asked.
Bram glanced up.
"…don't know."
Hank's eyes flicked to Kael.
Then back again.
"He'll be tied up with the Crown for a bit," he said, meaning Edrin. "Sorting records, property, all that mess."
Bram made a face.
"…sounds fun."
"It isn't," Hank replied flatly.
A small pause.
Then—
"You've got a couple days here, at least," he added. "Rooms are yours while he sorts it."
Bram nodded slowly.
"…thanks."
Hank shrugged once.
"Don't thank me yet. You haven't seen the morning crowd."
Bram blinked.
"…what's wrong with the morning crowd?"
"They're awake," Hank said.
Lily smiled faintly to herself.
Kael didn't react.
But something in his shoulders eased again.
Just slightly.
The room had settled into something steady now. The kind of steady that didn't feel temporary, even if it was.
Outside, the tavern noise carried on—voices rising and falling, footsteps crossing, the low hum of a place that didn't stop just because they had.
Inside, the heat stayed.
The food stayed.
The quiet between words stayed.
Bram eventually pushed his bowl away with a slow exhale, leaning back in his chair.
"…I'm going back upstairs," he muttered. "Before I decide this is fake."
Hank huffed.
"Fair."
Bram stood, stretching once, then hesitated.
"…you coming?" he asked, glancing at Kael.
Kael didn't answer right away.
His gaze had drifted again—not to the door, not to the food.
To the window just past the kitchen, where a sliver of the outside street could be seen. Movement passed through it—people, light, shadows crossing and disappearing.
Life.
Uncontained.
He looked back down at the table.
Then at Bram.
"…in a minute."
Bram nodded like that was enough.
"Don't take too long," he said, already heading for the door.
Then he was gone.
The kitchen felt a little quieter without him.
Not empty.
Just… different.
Hank picked his mug back up.
Lily stirred the pot again.
And Kael sat there, one hand resting loosely against the table now, the tension in it not gone—but not as sharp.
His sleeve shifted again as he moved, brushing over the marks there.
They didn't disappear.
They didn't soften.
They just… were.
For once—
No one tried to turn them into anything else.