Chrysanth splashed water and used a rag to roughly scratch the blood from Archie’s face.

  “Too suspicious, too suspicious,” he muttered as Archie winced through the pain.

  “I don’t know if it’s done,” Archie said. “I need to keep cooking.”

  “It’s been two hours since he left. We have to go now.”

  “Alright, alright. Just…” Archie shook the rest of the bag over the pot, floral dust spilling into the rice. He stirred it in and threw the last bit of supercharged noodle in with it. Just one more burst of essence to make it harder for Prince Waldorf to resist.

  He grabbed the pot and followed Chrysanth out of the kitchen. As the guard closed the door and put the keys back in the drawer, Archie set the pot down on the table in front of the massive chair.

  “So how’s this supposed to work?” Chrysanth asked.

  “He’s going to get back and see the pot. He’ll eat the whole thing before he even thinks to check in the kitchen. By that point, he’ll have forgotten I exist.”

  Chrysanth shook his head in a combination of awe and fear. “The things you Chefs can do…”

  “So how are we doing this? Do you need to, like, handcuff me?”

  Chrysanth found the heart to chuckle. “You know how many Chefs walk around these halls? We play it cool. We play it normal.”

  And so they did. They walked through the courtyard. Walked through the washroom. Walked past the kitchen. Not a single guard or servant turned for even a second look. But the closer Archie got to the gate, the harder his heart pounded. If Prince Waldorf returned early—if they ran into him…Archie couldn’t imagine how horrible that fate might be.

  But it didn’t happen. Such were the wonders of Cafe Julienne that a Glutton such as Prince Waldorf couldn’t find it within himself to leave until he was forcibly removed.

  They reached the gate.

  “This is me,” Chrysanth said. “Got the post until midnight.”

  Archie couldn’t believe that the threat was over. “If he suspects you, even for a second—”

  “I’m not too proud to run. And I doubt he’s quick enough to catch me.”

  Archie started to tremble. His voice wavered. “Thank you…for…”

  “Keep moving,” Chrysanth declared in his usual, impatient guard tone. He shook his spear in his hand. “Or I’ll make you move.”

  Archie took a deep breath as he turned and walked away. With each step, he moved faster and faster, the euphoria of freedom pushing the boundaries of his broken body until he was sprinting into the plaza of the Academy, the wind carrying his tears.

  Nori was waiting for him in the great hall. He hadn’t even crossed the threshold and Nori was already up and running at him. She sobbed as she ran, nearly knocking Archie over when she clung to him.

  “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry!” Nori’s tears mixed with the blood soaked into Archie’s jacket. “We saw him. As we left. I wanted to go get you. But Rowan said not to. And I—I—”

  Archie held her arm. “No, Nori. You did the right thing.”

  Nori pulled away, urgency holding her tears back. “We have to get you out of here! Before he comes back!”

  “No, Nori. Rowan’s flower. I still had some. That’s why I needed to make the rice.”

  “And you did it?”

  “I did it.”

  Nori returned into Archie’s embrace.

  “What about you?” Archie asked. “Did it…did she get out?”

  Nori sniffed and wiped at her tears while nodding. “She’s safe.”

  As relief flooded into Archie, a laugh slipped out.

  They did it.

  They entered a den of Gluttons, stole away one of their daughters, angered one of the most powerful men in the world, and got out. If only he could say unscathed. Everything in his body hurt, but he fought through the pain to hug Nori back.

  And then Oliver was there. “I was ready to bust you out!”

  Archie looked at Oliver and then back to Nori. “You told him?”

  “He figured it out.” Nori scowled at Oliver, but he shrugged it off. “I didn’t tell anyone but Rowan. I figured that was for the best.”

  “Yeah.”

  “He sent a letter to your parents.”

  “Oh.”

  “I imagine they’ll be here tomorrow. Probably worried sick.”

  Archie frowned. The thought of his parents worrying and crying on that bumpy carriage ride was an emotional weight that he was not ready to shoulder. He wasn’t ready to shoulder any weight, really. His legs buckled and the stress of the day—or two, or three, or however long it had been—left him weak.

  Nori could tell. She put herself beneath one of his shoulders to support him and started moving him toward the infirmary. “Get Head Chef Anise,” she told Oliver. “Get Aubergine. Get anyone.”

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Aubergine arrived first. After a great fuss, he convinced Nori to wait outside. He tended Archie’s wounds, producing noodles out of thin air. He wrapped one around Archie’s cut ankle. Another around the finger. A patch on his thigh.

  “The head, you’re going to have to sleep off,” Aubergine said. “Anything else?”

  “No.”

  “Okay. I’m going to leave you here for just a moment, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Aubergine walked to the door.

  Alone in that room, Archie laid down and cried. He cried and cried and cried until he shut his eyes and wasn’t sure that he would ever reopen them again.

  “Hmm…This one’s no good.”

  Archie opened his eyes to see Anise replacing one of Aubergine’s noodles. She put her hands on Archie’s skin and paused. Her head jerked around to look into his eyes, a scornful expression occupying her face.

  “So it was you who stole my experiment.” She pursed her lips and took a deep breath. “A matter for another time. I’ll want to know how it affected you.”

  After a few minutes of tending, the door opened and Nori walked in.

  “I told you to wait outside,” Anise said.

  Nori kept walking in and stared at Anise and that was that.

  “Mmm,” Anise grumbled. “He’s in your care, then. I’ll be back in an hour to check on him.”

  Once Anise left, Nori sat next to Archie and took his hand in hers. They sat like that for a while, not talking, not even really looking at each other. Just being there in each other’s presence. They both wanted to cry, but neither wanted to ruin the serenity of the quiet room.

  “So…” Archie said, breaking the silence.

  “What is it?”

  Archie cleared his throat. “You got paid, right?”

  Nori burst into laughter and Archie joined her.

  “Yes. We got our money. It just took some blood, sweat, and tears.”

  “No, but really, Nori. Can I ask you a favor?”

  “What?”

  “I’m starving.”

  Nori helped Archie to the kitchen. She made him a lemon cake pudding that challenged him to find a word worthy of its quality. Delicious. Amazing. Magnificent. Transcendental.

  “Nori, this is delicious. This is the best thing you’ve made!”

  Nori smiled and swatted the air at him. “You’re just hungry.”

  “No, really.” He scooped a fluffy piece of perfection into his mouth.

  Nori slid a small saucer over to him. “You didn’t even wait for the sauce.”

  “There’s sauce?!” Archie poured the yellow sauce over the pudding.

  “It’s just more lemon and sugar.”

  Archie took another bite and felt his spirit enter a new plane of existence. The food nourished him in a way he had never been nourished. There was his hunger and there was the flavor, but there was something else. He felt the essence in his body stir.

  “Nori, this is…” Archie trailed off. He wanted to cry for all of the right reasons.

  She looked down from his face and smiled shyly.

  “They’re amazing. The best thing I’ve ever had. Seriously.”

  Nori turned away and covered her face in playful embarrassment.

  They laughed.

  “Finish that and I’ll make you something else. Something heavier. What do you want?”

  Archie considered the question. “More of this.”

  She slapped his forearm and started zesting more lemons.

  Archie told her the story of what had happened to him, but he didn’t relive the fear as he described the story. It felt like it had happened to someone else. Someone that wasn’t sitting in the kitchen with their best friend eating the best food he’d ever tasted.

  “The blueberry man!” Teff ran to Archie, grabbing onto him before he could even get two steps into The Gift.

  “Hi Teff!”

  The girl tilted her head back and wagged a finger at Archie. “That’s my old name. I got to pick a new one!”

  “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

  “Come on, I want to show you my room!”

  She peeled off of Archie and sprinted toward the stairs. Rowan intercepted Archie, taking him in a warm hug.

  “I’m so glad you’re okay,” Rowan said, sniffling as he pulled Archie close. “I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself.”

  “I’m okay, I’m okay.” Archie slipped out of Rowan’s grasp. “A little sore, though.”

  “Of course, of course. Sorry.”

  The girl stomped her feet. “Uncle Rowan, knock it off! Get up here, blueberry man!”

  Archie laughed. “Uncle?”

  Rowan raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips. “As the story goes, my sister passed away, leaving behind a kid.”

  More stomping. “Come. On!”

  “Alright, I’m coming!” Archie hobbled over to the stairs—despite Anise’s expert treatment, he still couldn’t find it in him to move with any sense of urgency. Even walking from the tram down through the Roots had worn him out—almost as much as Nori’s constant worrying. She put her hands up to catch him in case he fell down the stairs.

  “I’m fine, Nori.”

  The reassurance didn’t stop her from shadowing him.

  “Tadaaa!” Rowan’s bedroom had been rearranged to accommodate two beds, and judging by the one that the girl was standing on, Rowan had found himself taking the smaller of the two. The girl jumped off the bed and ran to the balcony.

  “And look at my blueberries!” She poked a branch of blueberries growing from a pot, making the whole plant jiggle. Bees buzzed around her, but she was unphased. “They’re chandler blueberries. That’s me!”

  “That’s you?”

  “Yeah, Uncle Rowan said I needed to pick a new name. Because…” She tilted her head to complete her sentence. “I didn’t know what to pick! And then I saw these blueberries and they’re the biggest I’ve ever seen and Uncle Rowan said they are called chandler blueberries so I picked the name Chandler!”

  “Okay.” Archie grinned at Nori, wondering if she had managed to keep up with the child’s rambling. “Chandler it is.”

  “Come on, let me show you the roof!” Chandler dashed back to the stairs, grabbing Archie’s hand as she ran past him.

  They spent the early morning up on the rooftop, Chandler showing Archie a dozen plants that he had already seen a dozen times. Nori suggested taking a break—maybe he should rest in one of the beds for a bit—but Chandler’s energy rejuvenated Archie more than a supercharged noodle ever could. She ran and danced and yelled and played with the freedom of a child unburdened by a terrible past.

  It was all a great big playground for the girl. She ran laps between the planters and hid behind a row of corn. Every unused patch of soil was fertilized by her imagination, growing never before seen fruits and vegetables in her daydreams.

  She showed him her patch of the garden. A big heap of dirt with nothing sprouting, but when Archie put his hand to the soil, he could tell that Rowan had gone through some lengths to make sure Chandler would see some green soon.

  The longer Chandler talked, the bigger her smile. And the bigger her smile, the bigger Archie smiled too.

  A pair of footsteps thundered into The Gift. Archie could hear them from the roof.

  “He’s okay, he’s safe,” Rowan said. “He’s here. He’s okay.”

  Then the footsteps thundered up the stairs and soon, Archie’s parents were wrapped around him.

  They all cried tears of joy.

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