by Kiera Cass
“Phyllo paper. You can make dozens of things with that. Melt some of that butter, and I’ll get you some recipes.”
Kile gave me a face. “See?”
“How do we want to decide who works together?” Burke asked, obviously hoping I’d simply go with him.
“Rock, paper, scissors?” Fox suggested.
“That’s fair,” Kile agreed. He and Fox went up against each other first, and though no one said it one way or the other, they knew the losers would be stuck with each other.
Kile beat both Fox and Burke. Fox took it in stride, but Burke had no talent at masking his emotions. The two of them picked an appetizer to make together—asparagus wrapped with prosciutto and phyllo—while Kile and I were left staring at some chicken, trying to figure out what to do with it.
“So, what’s step one?” I asked.
“I cooked plenty when I was away in Fennley, but I need a recipe at least. I bet those books would help.” We walked over to a cupboard that contained dozens of cookbooks. Most of them had markers hanging in multiple places, and there were piles of note cards next to them with more ideas.
As Kile flipped through the pages, I played with the jars of herbs. The kitchen made me think of what a scientist’s lab would look like, only with food. I opened some, inhaling them or feeling the texture.
“Smell this,” I insisted, holding up a jar to Kile.
“What’s that?”
“Saffron. Doesn’t it smell delicious?”
He smiled at me and went straight to the back of the book he was holding. “Aha!” he said, turning forward to find his page. “Saffron chicken. Want to give that a try?”
“Sure.” I clutched the jar in my hand like it was my big contribution to the night.
“All right. Saffron chicken . . . so, let’s preheat the oven.”
I stood next to him, staring at the buttons and dials. Probably the ovens in normal people’s homes didn’t look like this, but this massive, industrial setup seemed like it might launch a satellite if we touched the wrong thing. We looked at the stove like it might give us some instructions if we waited long enough.
“Should I get more butter?” I asked.
“Shut up, Eadlyn.”
The chef walked past and mumbled, “Dial on the left, three fifty.”
Kile reached over and turned it as if he knew what to do the whole time.
I glanced toward Fox and Burke. Burke was clearly acting as their leader and loudly giving orders. Fox didn’t seem to mind at all, laughing and joking without being obnoxious. They peeked back over at us several times, Burke sneaking in a wink now and then. Past them, Erik and Henri were working quietly, with Erik doing a minimal amount of labor, only assisting when Henri asked for it.
Henri’s sleeves were rolled up and he’d gotten some flour on his pants, and I kind of loved that he didn’t seem to care about it. Erik was a little messy himself, and he didn’t bother wiping any of it off either.
I looked at Kile, who was buried in the cookbook. “I’ll be right back.”
“Sure.” As I walked away, I heard him quietly try to get the chef’s attention.
“Looking good, boys,” I said, pausing by Fox.
“Thanks. This is actually kind of soothing. I never cooked much at home, nothing like this anyway. But I’m looking forward to trying it.” Fox’s hands stuttered for a moment, trying to find his rhythm again.
“This will be the best asparagus you’ve ever had,” Burke promised.
“I can’t wait,” I replied, moving to the far end of the table.
Erik looked up, greeting me with a smile. “Your Highness. How’s our dinner looking?”
“Very bad indeed,” I promised. He chuckled and told Henri the state of our poor supper.
Their hands were covered in dough, and I could see bowls of cinnamon and sugar waiting to be used. “This looks promising though. Do you cook as well, Erik?”
“Oh, not professionally. But I live on my own, so I cook for myself, and I love all the traditional Swendish foods. This is a favorite.”
Erik turned to Henri, and I could tell they were talking about food because Henri was alight with excitement.
“Oh, yeah! Henri was just saying there’s this soup he has when he’s sick. It’s got potatoes and fish, and, oh, I miss my mother just thinking about it.”
I smiled, trying to imagine Erik alone trying to master his mother’s meals and Henri in the back of a restaurant already having conquered every recipe in his family’s memory. I kept worrying that Erik felt like an outcast. He certainly worked to separate himself from the Selected. He dressed differently, walked at a slower pace, and even carried himself a little lower. But watching him here, interacting with Henri, who was too kind for me to dismiss, I was so grateful for his presence. He brought a little piece of home to a situation twice removed from Henri’s idea of normal.
I stepped away, allowing them to work, and went back to my station. Kile had collected some ingredients in my absence. He was dicing garlic on a wooden brick next to a bowl of something that looked like yogurt.
“There you are,” he greeted. “Okay, crush those saffron threads and then mix them in the bowl.”
After a moment of blank staring, I picked up the tiny bowl and mallet I assumed was meant for thread crushing and started pressing. It was a strangely satisfying exercise. Kile did most of the work, smothering the chicken with the yogurt mix and throwing it in the oven. The other teams were at various stages of prep as well, and in the end, the dessert was ready first, followed by the appetizer, and our entrée pulled up the rear.
Realizing belatedly that Kile and I should have made something to go with our chicken, we decided to use the wrapped asparagus as a side, all laughing at how poorly we’d planned this.
The whole lot of us crowded around one end of the long table. I was sandwiched between Burke and Kile, with Henri across from me and Fox at the head. Erik was slightly removed but still clearly enjoying the company.
Honestly, I was, too. Cooking made me nervous because it was totally foreign to me. I didn’t know how to cut or sauté or anything, and I despised failing or looking foolish. But the majority of us had limited experience, and instead of it becoming a stressor, it became a joke, making this one of the most relaxed meals I’d ever had. No formal place settings, no assigned seats; and since nearly all the china was in use for our very full house, we were using plain plates that looked so old, the only reason they could possibly still be here was sentimentality.
“Okay, since they were supposed to be the appetizer, I think we should try the asparagus first,” Kile insisted.
“Let’s do it.” Burke speared his asparagus and took a bite, and we all followed. It appeared the results were inconsistent. Henri nodded approvingly, but mine tasted awful. I could tell Fox’s was bad as well based on his poorly concealed grimace.
“That . . . that is the worst thing I’ve ever tasted,” Fox said, trying to chew.
“Mine’s good!” Burke said defensively. “You’re probably just not used to eating such quality food.”
Fox ducked his head, and I gathered something I wouldn’t have known otherwise: Fox was poor.
“Can I try a bite of yours?” I whispered to Henri, using my hands and happy to find he understood without Erik’s help.
“Do you mind?” Fox replied quietly, and I pretended to be too focused on the food to hear him. And Henri’s piece actually was much better. “Who’s to say it’s not because of your cooking?”
“Well, maybe if I had a better partner,” Burke snapped.
“Hey, hey, hey!” Kile insisted. “There’s no way yours could be worse than ours.”
I giggled, trying to break the tension. I could feel Burke’s anger like an actual, physical thing hanging in the air, and I wanted nothing more than to return to the relaxed feeling we had when we’d sat down.
“All right,” I said with a sigh. “I think the first thing we need to do is cut each piece of chic
ken in half to make sure it’s cooked through. I seriously don’t want to kill anyone.”
“Are you doubting me?” Kile asked, offended.
“Definitely!”
I took a tentative bite . . . and it was pretty good. It wasn’t undercooked; in fact, some of the edges were a little dry where the paste hadn’t covered it all. But it was edible! Considering that I’d only done a fraction of the work, I was maybe a little too proud.
We ate, sharing pieces of the asparagus that hadn’t turned out too bad, though I genuinely worried I might be sick later.
Finally, I’d had enough. “I’m ready for dessert!”
Henri chuckled in understanding and went over to where his pastries were cooling on a rack. With careful movements, only using the edges of his fingers even though the rolls seemed firm, he transferred them all to a plate and set them in front of us.
“Is korvapuusti,” he said, giving the dish a name. Then, taking my hand, he gave me a very important speech; I could tell by the intensity in his eyes. I wished so badly that I could understand him on my own.
When he finished, Erik smiled and turned to me.
“Korvapuusti is one of Henri’s favorite things to prepare as well as eat. He says that if you do not like it, you should send him home tonight, for he’s sure your relationship could not survive if you aren’t as in love with this as he is.”
Fox laughed at my shocked face, but Henri nodded, assuring me he meant it.
I took a deep breath and picked up one of the delicately rolled pastries. “Here goes nothing.”
Right away I could taste the cinnamon. There was something else in there that reminded me of grapefruit . . . but I knew that wasn’t it. It was deliciously sweet, but more than it being a fantastic recipe, I could tell it was made by a fantastic chef. Henri had poured himself into this. And I was willing to bet part of that was for me . . . but I thought it was mostly for himself, that he couldn’t allow himself to make it anything less than incredible.
I was blown away. “It’s perfect, Henri.”
The others grabbed pieces and shoved them into their mouths, grunting in approval.
“My mom would be dying right now. She has such a sweet tooth!” I said.
Kile was nodding with his eyes wide. He knew how she was about desserts. “This is great, Henri. Nice job to you, too, Erik.”
Erik shook his head. “I barely helped.”
“Was this rigged?” Burke asked, his mouth half full with the pastry.
We all looked at him, confused.
“I mean, I came up with this idea, and then Henri jumped in on it just to show the rest of us up.”
His face was turning red, and that feeling of unease was filling the room again.
Fox put a hand on his shoulder. “Calm down, man. It’s just a cinnamon roll.”
Burke shrugged it off and threw the rest of his dessert across the room. “I would have done way better if you weren’t there screwing me up the whole time!”
Fox made a face. “Hey, you were the one standing there talking about how hot she was when you should have been watch—”
Burke threw a punch that knocked Fox back several steps. I sucked in a breath, frozen. Fox came back at him, and I was pushed to the floor by Burke’s arm pulling back for another punch.
“WHOA!” Kile jumped over me and started pulling at Burke, while Henri was yelling at Fox in Finnish. After everything with Jack, my new instinct was to get back up and throw a punch. No one was going to hurt me and get away with it. And I might have tried if it wasn’t for one thing.
Erik, the quiet observer, had launched himself over the table to pick me up.
“Come,” he said.
I wasn’t particularly a fan of obeying orders. But he said it so urgently, I followed.
CHAPTER 24
ERIK RUSHED ME UP THE stairs and into the dining hall. Everyone else in the palace was in the middle of their dinner, and the room felt too loud.
“Eadlyn?” Daddy called, but Erik kept me moving, somehow knowing that I couldn’t bear to stay there. He only paused when we got to the end of the room, and just long enough to pass along the problem.
“Pardon me, officer, some of the Selected are in a fight in the kitchen. It’s very physical, and it looked to be escalating.”
“Thank you.” The officer motioned to two other guards, and they followed him as he ran toward the fray.
I realized I was hugging myself, both frightened and enraged. Erik gently placed a hand on my back and ushered me away. My parents were calling after me, but I couldn’t deal with that many people right now, surrounding me, asking questions.
He slowed and asked me quietly, “Where do you want to go?”
“My room.”
“Lead the way.”
He didn’t touch me exactly, except for the occasional brush against my back, which made me realize he must have kept his hand there the whole time, inches away from me, just in case. I pushed open my door, and Neena was inside, polishing the table, filling the room with the scent of lemons.
“My lady?”
I held up a hand.
“Maybe go get her some tea?” Erik offered.
She nodded and rushed away.
I walked over to my bed and took a few deep breaths. Erik stood there, calm and silent.
“I’ve never seen anything like that,” I confessed. He got down on a knee so he was level with me. “My father has never so much as swatted my hand, and he’s always taught us to seek peaceful resolutions. Ahren and I gave up trying to fight each other before we could really talk.”
I remembered this all with a laugh.
“When we were down there, all I could think about was how I ran from Jack. Burke knocked me to the ground, and this time I was going to fight back, but I just realized I’d have no idea how to do it.”
Erik smiled. “Henri says, when you’re upset, the look in your eyes is as strong as a punch. You’re not powerless.”
I ducked my head, thinking of how I told myself over and over that no one in the world was as powerful as me. There was truth to it, sure. But if Jack had pinned me to the ground or Burke had turned his fists on me, my crown would have done me no good until after the fact. I could punish, but I couldn’t prevent.
“You know, boy or girl, I think aggression is a sign of weakness. I’m always more impressed when people can end something with words.” His eyes were seeing another place and time when he went on. “Maybe that’s why language became so important to me. My father, he always used to say ‘Eikko, words are weapons. They are all you need.’”
“Ayco?” I asked.
He grinned, a little embarrassed. “E-I-K-K-O. Like I said, Erik is the closest in English.”
“I like it. Really.”
He turned his attention back to me, looking at my arms. “Are you hurt?”
“Oh . . . umm, I don’t think so.” I felt a little sore from hitting the ground, but it was nothing serious. “I just can’t believe how fast it happened.”
“I don’t want to excuse either of them at all—that was unacceptable—but I hear the guys talking, and they’re stressed. They all want to impress you, but they have no idea how to do it, considering who you are. Some talk about trying to undermine others without getting caught. A few are working out at every turn to be physically superior. I understand that it’s a lot of pressure, and that’s probably why Burke snapped. But that will never make it okay.”
“I’m so sorry you have to be around that.”
He shrugged. “It’s fine. Mostly I just stick with Henri and Kile, sometimes Hale, and they’re good company. Not that I’d ever try to choose for you, but the three of them are a pretty safe place to start.”
I smiled. “I think you’re right.” Though I hadn’t spent one-on-one time with everyone yet, I already knew Hale was a good guy. And seeing Henri so excited about his food tonight, about this part of his life, gave me a glimpse of the person behind the barrier. And Kile . . . well,
I didn’t know what to make of Kile, but he was a better companion than I’d given him credit for.
“Would you tell Henri for me how wonderful his food was? I could tell how important it was to him, and I admire his passion.”
“I will. Happily.”
I extended my hand and he gave me his, resting them both on my knee. “Thank you so much for this. You really went above and beyond tonight, and I’m so thankful you were here.”
“It’s the least I could do.”
I tilted my head, really looking at him. It felt like something had just happened, but I didn’t know what it was.
Erik, without knowing me, had done so much right. He pulled me away before I made the situation worse, got me to solitude before I lost control of my emotions, and stayed with me, listening to my worries and making everything better with his words. There were scores of people on call, ready to do whatever I asked.
It was so funny to me that with him I didn’t even have to ask.
“I won’t forget this, Eikko. Not ever.”
There was a tiny lift of a smile at the sound of his given name, and he squeezed my hand ever so slightly.
I remembered the feeling of my first date with Hale, how I felt when I was sure he’d peeled everything back and had seen the real me. This time, I felt like I was on the other side of that, looking past duty and worry and rank, seeing the true heart of a person.
And his was so beautiful.
Neena came back in carrying a tray, and Erik and I ripped our hands apart.
“Are you all right, my lady?”
“Yes, Neena,” I promised her, standing. “There was a fight, but Erik got me away. I’m sure the guards will come with a report soon. In the meantime I just need to calm down.”
“The tea will help. I got some chamomile, and we’ll get you into something comfortable before you need to report anywhere,” Neena said, already making my night easier by planning it.
I turned back to Erik, who was standing by the door. He bowed deeply.
“Goodnight, Your Highness.”
“Goodnight.”
He walked away quickly, and Neena came over, handing me a cup of tea. The strange thing was, my hands were already so warm.
