Thread of Ash and Fire

Ch. 3: Wherever You Are

"There's nobody here," Grayson said.

Penny looked up. She was sitting on the kitchen counter, eating a jar of sour cherries. The castle kitchens were a mess; pasta and bronze pots dangled from the ceiling, and sooty footprints criss-crossed the wooden floorboards. Whoever had been down here last — the cook and the servants, presumably — had left in a hurry.

"I don't think someone could fit in there," Penny observed.

Grayson raised an eyebrow. He was crouched in front of a large cupboard, a broadsword strapped across his back. His white shirt had come untucked at the back. He ran a hand through his hair, sending blond clumps sticking up in all directions.

"What about this one?" he asked.

Grayson kicked open a cupboard. A loaf of mouldy bread tumbled to the floor. Penny wrinkled her nose.

"Gross," she said.

Grayson pivoted in a circle. Then he wrenched open a cupboard to his left. "This one's also clear."

"No offense," Penny said, fishing for a cherry, "but I seriously doubt that enemy soldiers are going to be hiding in a cupboard."

Grayson's brow creased. "How do you know?"

Penny popped the cherry into her mouth. "I just do."

The frown deepened. "I still think it's worth checking all of them. Just to be thorough."

Penny set down the jar. She could remind Grayson that if someone was in the kitchens, she'd be able to sense their presence. But then again, Grayson seemed to be enjoying his cupboard exploration. And it was rare that they enjoyed anything these days.

"Go on, then," Penny said. "I'll supervise."

Grayson took to the task with gleeful abandon, kicking and yanking open cupboards. Random items tumbled to the floor — old rags and dried herbs — and Penny hid a smile. She thought of the golden hounds that her father had kept, the way they would bound of their kennels in the morning to roll around in the fields. Some things, Penny reflected, did not do well being caged for too long.

Grayson wrenched open a cupboard. He made a noise of alarm, stumbling back, and Penny jumped off the counter.

"What is it?" Penny demanded.

Her heart slammed in her chest. The cupboard was small — certainly not big enough to conceal an enemy soldier — but it could contain any other manner of things. An explosive. A severed arm. A mouldering corpse. Grayson pulled a face.

"Spider," he said.

Penny pressed a hand to her throat. "Stars, Gray. I thought it was something terrible."

Grayson's face was dark. "You haven't seen the size of that thing. That spider looks like it's eaten all the other spiders."

Penny strode forward. The spider crouched at the back of the cupboard, shying away from the light spilling in. The creature was, Penny observed with amusement, no bigger than her palm. Grayson made a noise of protest as she reached into the cupboard, cradling the cowering spider in her hands.

Penny turned for the door. "Come on."

Grayson's gaze was suspicion. "What are you doing?"

"Freeing it," Penny said.

She led him through a series of corridors, only pausing when they reached a courtyard. Fiery red and brown leaves scattered the stone tiles. The air felt like a cold hand pressed to her cheek, and Penny shivered, crouching down to release the spider on to pile of leaves; the creature scuttled away, disappearing through a crack in the stone wall.