“Your restaurant is in the Roots?”

Archie stared slack-jawed at Rowan.

“That’s right.”

Archie blinked and blinked and blinked again. Rowan’s black jacket made him one of the top hundred Chefs in the world. A Black Jacket Restaurant would put Sain back on the map. And yet Rowan owned a restaurant…in the Roots. Not in the Crown. Not even in the Trunk. The Roots. Archie couldn’t believe it.

“It might be a little hard to find because it’s in one of the residential districts…”

He owned a restaurant in the residential districts of the Roots. Archie waited for Rowan to laugh. To say it was all a joke. But the man continued with his genuine candor.

“Tell you what, I’ll come get you the first couple of times. It’ll be good exercise having to walk up the Trunk. And they say I get you for Fridays and Saturdays. For now, I’ll just take you on Fridays. On Saturdays, you can figure out how to come up with a hundred gold.”

“Okay.”

“Two days from now. Don’t forget.”

And one day before I need to get Stop Him his food. Don’t forget that, either.

“As for Nori,” Rowan continued, “just make sure she doesn’t run away.”

“What?”

“Or get kidnapped.”

“What?!”

Rowan waved his hand to dismiss Archie’s panic.

“Ah, you’ll be fine. Just tell her I’ll get her on Friday and then let her go at her own pace from there.” He took a step away, then hesitated. “And Archie…let her go at her own pace.”

Rowan left once the placements were finished. Of the students staying in the Academy of Ambrosia, only two were snatched up by Prince Waldorf, a fact that he was very upset with.

As Prince Waldorf ranted to the Chancellor, Archie approached Nori. She stared at the ground with red eyes, oblivious to the world around her. A sob slipped through her pouting lips, stopping Archie in his tracks.

At her own pace.

He found somewhere else to sit.

They brought out large platters of food and the celebrations began. Desperate for a full meal, Archie ate his fill while a girl named Hyssop threw a fit to him about how she had hoped to have an affinity for sweets, not seafood, and now she would have to cook for Prince Waldorf. Archie hardly responded, but that was fine by Hyssop. She just needed to rant.

As dinner wrapped up, a tanned, middle-aged man with a salt-and-pepper beard stood up on the stage. His side-swept hair was silver in a way that made him seem distinguished, not old. Sunken eyes with little pools of brown within. A sort of carefree nature captured in his posture. Many of the female students had already taken notice of him. He adjusted his red jacket and smiled.

“Good evening, everyone,” he said. His voice was charming and velvety. “For those of you that will be attending The Academy of Ambrosia, I am your headmaster, Aubergine. It is my pleasure to welcome you to this prestigious academy. We’d like to go ahead and get you situated. Head Chefs Pomona and Colby will guide you to your rooms.”

Aubergine gestured at two of the Head Chefs, who rose at their mention.

“Hi, I’m Pomona,” the woman repeated to each student as they approached. She offered each of them a unique warm smile. When she smiled at Archie, he blushed. She was a sharp-featured woman with enough beauty to distract from her oversized head, her honey blonde hair shining as it draped over her red jacket.

The other Head Chef, a man in a black jacket, lacked Pomona’s charm. He didn’t introduce himself, relying on the simple deduction that if she was Pomona, he was Colby. He ran a hand through his short red-brown hair as he counted the students. Stress seemed as natural to him as breathing—it had already marked its claim on his face with sharp wrinkles etched around his eyes.

The Academy students followed the Head Chefs through an archway to the left of the stage.

“This is the main kitchen,” Pomona explained.

Archie nearly fell to his knees.

The room was bigger than the entirety of Petrichor. Eight ovens lined one wall, each as big as Petrichor’s, but with even finer details—every bit of stone had been chiseled into a beautiful work of art. Nearly fifty individual cooking setups filled the room in neat rows, each with their own wood-powered stove and cabinetry.

Refrigerators lined another wall. Archie didn’t need to get close to see that the magic powering them was of a different league than the one in Petrichor. On the far wall, above the cabinets and spice racks, a row of arched windows let in the starry light of the night sky.

“Head Chef Colby and I usually teach in the lower kitchens, so this one is always open for student use. Over there is the door that wraps around to that other building you walked past on your way in. That’s the main pantry. It also has a freezer, but do be careful not to lock yourself in. And this way is the way down. If you’d follow me…”

Pomona walked toward a door, but no one followed. Instead, the students fanned out through the kitchen, admiring the craftsmanship and scale. They marveled at the carvings and commented on the number of spices and lifted the heavy cast iron pans.

Colby’s harsh whistle pierced through their blissful veil of awe. “Hey! Let’s go,” he barked.

The students followed him through the door to an outside path. Archie gasped at the view.

No more city squares. No more crowds. The ground fell away a hundred feet down the mountainside to the flat land and massive lake below. A little shoulder-high stone wall lined the path as it wound around and descended to one final building on the edge of the mesa. As they walked down the stairs of the path, Archie alternated between looking at the scenery and trying to find Nori in the crowd of students.

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“The Academy is split into two major buildings. Above, the great hall, main kitchen, pantry, and staff quarters,” Pomona explained.

“Staff quarters being off limits,” Colby added.

“Below, we have the lower kitchens and student quarters. Far, far below, the lake, fields, and orchards are all owned by the Academy. Common misconception, they are not owned by the crown, nor is the Academy itself. Not directly, anyway.”

They rounded a corner to see the second building, a multi-story, castle-like stone structure that had been built nearly halfway down the steep mountain slope.

“Colby and I are two of your five Head Chefs. That’s not counting Headmaster Aubergine. I am in charge of this year’s girls,” she said with excitement.

“And I’ll be in charge of the boys,” he said with disdain.

“Of course, come to any of us with any questions. After tonight, that is, because you probably have too many right now for us to deal with.” She laughed at her own joke with a little chipmunk giggle.

They passed through the doors of the lower building, entering a lounge with fireplaces and couches and big pillows set up in circles on sitting rugs. The room stretched to the other end of the building, ending in a large balcony overlooking the lake below.

“The two floors above us are the lower kitchens, of which there are four. The two floors below us belong to students, of which we have four years. Boys and girls floors are separate and we like to keep it that way.”

The students cooed with thoughts of romance.

“There will be no relationship drama,” Colby decreed. “If any of you start crying in my class because your boyfriend is slipping off to someone else’s room and not yours, I’ll throw a pan at you.”

“I’ve seen him do it,” Pomona added. “Tomorrow, you’ll join Headmaster Aubergine down by the lake for an introductory class. While he outlines the year for you, us Head Chefs will be carrying out a little tradition that we are so excited about. Every year, the Head Chefs prepare a feast for our new students. So when dinner time comes around…Expect. Some. Magic.”

Pomona laughed to herself again. By now, half the boys were smitten enough to laugh with her.

“Now, girls, if you’ll come with me. Boys, with Head Chef Colby. Goodnight boys!”

“Goodnight Head Chef Pomona,” a few boys chimed back lovingly. A few of the girls shot them nasty looks. Archie craned his neck to get one last look at Nori. She walked with the group like a zombie, wavering from side to side, unaware of her surroundings.

“Alright, you bunch with me,” Colby said as he started downstairs and into a long hallway. Somehow his voice had even less affection now that the girls were gone. “Now, I don’t know any of your names.” He looked at Julienne and sighed. “Alright, I don’t know most of your names. Let’s see…there’s eight of you? Perfect. I’ll make it easy for you. You, you, you, you.” He pointed.

“Julienne.”

“Yarrow.”

“Akando.”

“Suh—Sutton.”

“Great,” Colby said. You four are in the first room on the left. Now, you four. Sound off.”

“Oliver.”

“Benedict.”

“Barley.”

“Archie Kent.”

“Great. You’ll be in the second room. Bathroom down the hall. Now this might come as a shock, but eighteen-year-olds away from home for the first time have an uncanny knack for finding trouble. You’re Chefs of the Academy of Ambrosia. You need to act that way. And to be sure you act that way, there’s a little policy for first-years…”

“Don’t say curfew,” Oliver pleaded.

“There’s a curfew,” Colby said with glee. The boys all moaned. “Ten o’clock every night.”

“Even weekends?”

“Even weekends. Can’t have you out partying, getting hungover, and then failing to keep your obligation to your sponsor. If you need to stay out late, get permission first. Now it’s the first night, so go to your rooms and don’t cause any trouble.”

Colby trotted off toward the stairs.

“Byyyye,” Oliver called out sarcastically after Colby, who answered with a dismissive wave.

The boys looked at each other for a moment, dead still. Then, like dogs moments before play, they burst down into squats and dashed into their rooms. Archie joined into the excitement a moment too late, trailing behind.

“Top bunk!” Oliver called out from inside the room.

“Me too,” Benedict said.

“I would have given it to you if you asked,” Barley stated flatly, not buying into all of the excitement.

“Well of course you would!” Oliver asked. “You’re not sleeping over me, you’re massive!”

It was true. But Barley was a different kind of big than the Gluttons. A healthier big. It was all in his structure. It’d be hard to even say he was really overweight. He was just a large person.

Benedict threw his trunk up on top of a bed, and Barley sat beneath him. Oliver abandoned his trunk altogether and jumped up onto his bed. That left only one.

“You’re under me!” Oliver said to Archie. He had a grin that could only mean trouble. “We can pass notes about ol’ Benny here.”

Archie plopped down in his bed. The straw-stuffed mattress was lumpy, the covers were coarse, and Oliver threatened to fidget overhead all night. But it was already home.

The four of them talked long into the night—if Barley’s silent listening counted as talking.

It took only minutes for the topic to turn to the girls.

“What do you guys think of Blanche?” Benedict asked.

“What do YOU think of Blanche?” Oliver echoed. “Hey Archie, you gonna try to swoop in on Cress? She’s cute. I think she has a bit of a thing for you. She really wanted you to sit with us. And then she was all over you.”

Archie blushed and played the events back in his head to determine if Oliver exaggerated, but everytime he thought of that great hall, he thought of that desperate look that Nori had given him. Help me.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Archie said. “I’ve seen more people in the last day than I have in my entire life.”

“Ah, I see,” Oliver said. “Trying to figure out how you can play the field.”

Archie wanted to ask them about Nori but knew the context of the conversation would give them the wrong idea. So he waited. The conversation shifted to this topic and that topic, but still Archie thought of Nori. Finally, when they were all in bed, speaking in whispers and wondering if the others had fallen asleep, they started talking about their sponsors. Archie found his opportunity.

“I’m gonna be working with that girl…Nori? What’s her deal?”

“I was sitting next to her the whole ceremony—she barely said a word.” Oliver said.

Then, for the first time in an hour, Barley spoke. His words were laced with heavy thoughts. “She’s like me,” he said. “She’s not from here, and she wasn’t supposed to stay here.”

For a moment spent in silence, the boys remembered that this was not a familiar place. Eventually, they could all call it home, but for now, in that moment in the dark in a new place, they all thought of what they had left behind. The events of the day tumbled around in their minds, waiting to be processed. Barley’s statement hung in the air, bringing the lighthearted nature of their conversation to a close.

Not that Oliver could be stopped.

“Are they all as big as you where you come from?” he asked.

The four boys—even Barley—laughed.