Cal cracked another egg, discarding the unneeded yolk and having the white join the rest in his bowl.

That was eight now. It should be more than enough. According to the recipe, that is, he'd never done this one.

In his opinion, this was the ideal way to end the day. It had been a fairly normal one, all things considered. The only standout was letting Marcus blast him a bit.

He moved his filled bowl to the island and then turned; his eyes roved over the various cabinets. It was good practice to have everything prepared before you started, but Cal often found himself just jumping in and sorting out the rest later.

Joining the cook-culinary club had been the right call. When it came to having what he needed, this place hadn't let him down.

He'd kill to have to have some of this in the cabin. The flashy features had caught his attention first, such as the fridge, which was wider than his armspan and just shy of the ceiling height.

Then came the pantry cabinets on either side of the fridge. They took up the rest of that wall and had these sliding, collapsable doors. He could leave them fully open if he wished to see the multiple levels each contained.

Non-perishables and spices as far as the eye could see. He was exaggerating, but it really was a sight.

And that was just the one wall.

The one opposite to it had a mess of ovens, grills, fryers, steamers, mixers, slicers…the list went on and on. Cal suspected that when asked what he wanted, Benny had replied with a simple 'yes.'

Curiously, Cal noticed many of the brand names had been fully sanded down. The only things left of them were small, smooth indents.

In between them, the island was a simple affair. It was really just a giant work area for him to play in. He did appreciate that whatever material the countertop was made of could take abuse, as he realized when he'd accidentally used it as a cutting board in the past.

One of the other walls in the room was a full window, allowing him a nice, if limited, view of campus. The last wall was something he seriously considered taking when he eventually departed the Empire.

The fancy machines and ingredients were nice. No doubt about that. But having an entire wall of storage cabinets with multiple variations of every pot and pan he knew of?

That was worth creating a diplomatic incident for.

In his opinion anyway, that was partially why he was here in the first place.

He ignored that for a moment and focused on his current task. Cal spotted the lemon juice and grabbed it, returning to the bowl. He set the bottle aside for now and began whisking at a consistent, if slow, speed.

"I mean no offense," Alice said. She was keeping out of the way in a corner of the room. "However, seeing you like this is odd."

Cal had taken Marcus' advice and asked Alice for help. It was a close thing, as even asking Marcus had been a stretch for him.

He really, really didn't want to have to add studying politics to his plate. But it kept coming up, and he'd be an absolute moron if he kept telling himself it didn't matter.

Ever since being reintroduced to society, he'd been content to let others handle it. It seemed smart to him at the time. He was good at killing things—very good at it. While others were good at talking.

He'd stayed in his own lane, but where had that gotten him?

If he decided to stay in the Federation, he'd have to get wise over there as well. Although that would be an easier task. Not only was he familiar with their legal structure, but he had Millie.

Hazarding a guess, she was probably in the same boat as him when it came to caring about that stuff. But she clearly knew how it worked if those negotiations were any indication. Also, her name was Prodigy; he stopped assuming there were things she couldn't do a long time ago.

"None take, but I'm not sure what you mean."

He didn't expect her to agree so readily. Or be so eager for that matter.

"When you phrased your prior experience, I interpreted that to mean you took up the practice for the end product alone. Your exuberance now tells me otherwise; you enjoy the process in and of itself."

Cal didn't have to think too hard before responding; it wasn't anything important.

"One feeds into the other. I had to source my meals, but making them was a nice change of pace compared to everything else."

Everything else being repeatedly throwing himself at the beasts beyond the boundary of the cabin. He wouldn't say it got monotonous with the sheer varieties in which they came, but it was mentally draining at times.

The sullen look on her face prompted him to follow up.

"Something wrong?"

Nothing besides the usual he hoped.

"It's no matter," she replied quickly, only to catch herself and continue in a more sedate tone. "I never had time for such trivialities. At times like these, I wonder what I have missed."

Cal glanced at his bowl and then the fridge. There were still more eggs.

"You want to give it a shot?"

Red eyes had bored into him, and she had appeared to seriously consider it before slightly shaking her head.

"Don't trouble yourself. I'm comfortable with only partaking in the result."

Cal gave a soft snort.

"Fine, be a freeloader. See what I care."

He goaded her, watching for a reaction. The ends of her lips tugged upward, and she responded confidently.

"I presume then that you no longer need my counsel?"

He noticed the mixture begin to get frothy, and he took the bottle of lemon juice. Pouring it slowly, he eyeballed the amount rather than measure it out.

The recipe called out the specifics, but he was willing to wing this one a bit. He could make adjustments later if needed.

He increased the speed of his whisking.

"I'll have you know, there were several people I could have asked."

It wasn't a huge amount of options, but he had backup choices. In fact, he'd even jumped the gun and asked someone else before her. That was aside from Marcus. It was a shame his text was never returned.

"That merely highlights how overdue this is," she replied smoothly, and he got the sense she didn't believe him. "Before we begin, may I ask why you have decided to learn about it now?"

A fair question, and one he was more than prepared for.

"I don't know," he replied in a flat tone, staring at her while beating the mixture. "Maybe it was one too many jokes about marrying me off like some prized bull."

It was the perfect deflection. In part because that was where some of his motivation had come from.

"I told you that was in jest," she had the gall to speak as if she were the aggrieved party. "If you continue to belabor the point, I may think this is your way of pushing for it."

"You ask-" Cal paused, narrowing his eyes. "Okay, I should stop falling for that."

In his defense, he hadn't gotten used to the girl joking with him.

"Knowing that is a promising start," Alice mused, her eyes straying from him to the window. "I confess, had you sought tutelage about politics months ago, I would have been concerned. Now? I am relieved."

Did that mean she would have been nervous about him wanting her spot, or that at this point she was more worried about whatever damage he could cause without knowing it?

He didn't let himself get bogged down in minute details like those.

"Are you stalling? Cal asked, turning to the cabinet for a moment to find the sugar.

It was an often-used ingredient, so he quickly grabbed the bag and began to sprinkle some into the mixture before whisking again.

"I am not," she said, her eyes still on the outdoors. "However, I am unsure how to broach such a large subject."

Cal could help her there.

"Why don't we start with why a Finger, Lily's fiance in particular, would be coming to the city?"

He was still very skeptical of the whole thing, so his movement hitched when he saw her nod in understanding.

"I asked her not to bother with you that," she said with annoyance. She crossed her arms, one set of fingers drumming on her sleeve. "Traditionally, there are one or two Finger's stationed at or near the city. However, duties often pull them away, and with the Academy in close proximity, their presence is not often needed. William is often positioned in the capital, but it's not unusual for him to visit. His presence will be a boon to us; Lily can handle him well."

Cal would hold her to those words. He'd be fairly upset if he ended up having to fight a Finger.

"Right, so who decides their deployment?" In other words, who had the power to leave the city defenseless in the face of a summoning? "Can he pop over whenever he wants, or are there more rules in place?"

The Constellation were integrated with the normal service branches. If someone in a field infantry unit put in a request and it was assigned a high enough importance, they could have a Constellation member answer the call.

"Their assigned Hand," Alice explained, stretching out her own and waving her fingers slowly. "William falls under the Left. However, they tend to take a loose approach when managing their Fingers. As long as they serve the overall interests of their Hand, they are given many liberties on how they may act. Individuals who reach that level don't tend to be the most agreeable."

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Yeah, that tracked. He'd seen Mask blow things off for the fun of it and then specifically request the oddest of assignments.

The Hands then…why would one of them want to deal a blow to the Academy? He was well aware of their capabilities, being one of the few true threats to him. But he didn't know their personal beliefs.

"Cool." Cal continued with his mixing, adding more sugar as they spoke. "What's their deal then? Do they play nice with each other and the Empire as a whole, or do they have a bunch of enemies?"

Alice's brow furrowed, and he tried to act naturally under her scrutiny. A brief silence followed, and he considered whether it was time to break out Plan B.

"They have different purposes." Alice's voice saved him from having to take any drastic action. "The Left is held close to the Emperor. He seldom leaves the capital and has been a source of stability for some time now. His Fingers travel the Empire, providing the same support to provinces as needed."

Based on that information, it sounded like the guy wouldn't be the one to rock the boat. But if he was the one responsible for leaving the city unstationed, then Cal wasn't sure what to think.

Alice closed her fingers, forming a fist.

"The Right strikes out, attending to matters beyond our borders. She is currently stationed in the Holy Enclave, assisting in the transfer of power to the Second Prince and traveling abroad as needed. She ascended five years ago. It was a rather contentious subject; with her mixed heritage, there were questions about her suitability. Some even claimed her to be awarded the position to pacify the wishes of our vassal."

Cal's memory wasn't always the greatest, but there was one piece of information he recalled being told.

"Sorry," he broached, conscious that he was interrupting her flow. "But isn't Ferguson also from there? They wouldn't happen to be related, would they?

Alice paused, giving him an evaluating look.

"Apologies, I'm simply struggling to understand how you have made it this far without this knowledge."

Haphazardly.

He didn't respond, swiping his finger on the edge of the bowl and tasting the mixture.

Hmm, he added one more teaspoon of sugar and began mixing it in.

"The Right is Ferguson's daughter."

Cal had been prepared for some level of absurdity, so his only outward reaction was a small nod.

Internally, he put Ferguson on the special 'do not murder' list. Killing the father of a Hand sounded like a phenomenal way to piss off one of the few people on the continent able to genuinely push his shit in.

He'd read the reports, so he knew what she was capable of.

And while he was curious and willing to see how he would stack up against her, he'd rather not find out while she was doing everything in her power to make sure he stayed dead.

Ignorant to his internal proceedings, Alice continued.

"As I was saying, there were questions as to her ability, but they have been well answered. I've been told she is a model of excellence. Unfortunately, I've never had the opportunity to meet her." Her tone carried with it disappointment. "Her Fingers often travel with envoys and are used to display our strength to those who habitually forget."

That sounded like their version of gunboat diplomacy. On the Federation's side, it mainly fell on Mask and…

"Are you well?" Alice said, concern laced in her voice.

He was.

Cal set the whisk aside, noting how it remained perfectly intact.

"Yep, was just thinking it was about ready for a test."

The mixture was stiff now, with parts of it sticking up from when he stopped beating it. Cal took a spoonful of it and scrapped it on his hand. He rolled it into a ball, some of the residue sticking to him. He would take greater care of the shape when doing the actual batch, but for now he just wanted to make sure it would taste right.

He cupped it in his hands, raising the temperature. Normally the baking process would take a couple of hours, but he'd picked up a few tricks to speed that up. They weren't universally applicable, as different chemical reactions behaved differently when instantly infused with heat, as he was doing, but he was hoping it would work for this case.

"Pardon," Alice interrupted, a quizzical look on her face. "But is not what you are doing better accomplished by these?"

She waved a hand behind her, pointing out the multiple ovens.

"Most of the time," Cal admitted. He planned to use them for the main batch. "But this is a taste test before I commit to the rest." Conscious that they'd gone off track, he moved back to the matter at hand. "It sounds like the Hands do what they want. So they don't have to worry about playing politics?"

He hoped that was phrased innocently enough, but he was getting ready to stop pushing the question. There was a line where this crossed from idle curiosity to suspiciousness, and he didn't want to cross it.

Separating out his line of inquiries among multiple people seemed less likely to raise any flags.

"Perish the thought." Alice seemed to be in a rush to correct him on that. "Their every move must be planned, and that extends to their subordinates. Hosting a Finger is considered an honor. Duration of stay is also a factor; it's a balance. Too much and it is a slight on the host's ability to handle their affairs; too little and they are offended by the lack of attention."

That, right there, was why he never wanted anything to do with it. Damned if you do and damned if you don't.

"Perhaps I spoke too strongly," she cautioned, presumably after seeing his face twist at her words. "I would ask you to keep three things in mind. First, be mindful of how others perceive you."

Cal knew that much. He'd go as far as to say he knew that too well. Conditioning himself to ignore it had been done out of survival.

"Second, be ready to set aside your personal feelings and emotions. It did not work as we thought with the last, but we will have to work with people whose presence we do not enjoy in the future.

He filled in the blank. She was talking about how their deal with Petro fell through when he went mental.

"Conversely, we must not let positive sentiments cloud our judgment either. Impartiality is key to our success."

He nodded along while discarding that last bit.

"And the third is that truth is often decided behind closed doors. There is no objectivity to it. Should three enter and two leave, they decide what happened to the third. A simplification, of course, as you've seen with our current predicament, but I hope you see my point."

She looked at him expectantly, and he noticed how she had stayed in place since deciding on that spot. There was no pacing or stepping to the side; she seemed almost afraid of touching anything.

"Got it," he knew all that before, but saying that sounded childish. "The harder part is knowing all the parties in play. If I don't know where they're coming from, then doing all of that is difficult."

Impossible is more like it. Claire had tried to drill the names into him, and even that hadn't stuck.

"I am loath to summarize these things, as there are many caveats and nuances overlooked."

She sounded willing if reluctant.

Cal mulled it over before speaking.

"I visited the museum recently. Learned a lot." And more than he ever wanted to about how the thread count of certain pieces of clothing was culturally significant. Allegedly, that was. Cal had almost called bullshit on Jessica's explanations. However, he suspected such an action would have only lengthened his sentence. "It seems to me that not everyone is happy with how the Academy does things."

Was that too much? He certainly hoped not.

Cal watched her carefully for any change in reaction. Perplexingly, she seemed more intrigued by his cupped hands than anything else.

"Many take umbrage with one matter or another of what occurs within these walls. The northern lords and ladies are usually the most outspoken of these."

He shifted slightly, noticing how her eyes stayed on his hands. This girl had one hell of a sweet tooth.

"Aren't the Evergreens up there?"

It was strange that they would be upset despite having someone so high up the food chain.

She saw through his confusion and explained.

"What better way to maintain a watchful eye on things than by installing one of your own?"

Shit. Was he going to have to investigate someone who already hated his guts? That sounded not fun. Then again, his supervisor during that community service stint wasn't that bad. Maybe that was a better in.

Regardless, he should give the administration in general a second look. It just seemed too much for some students to pull off alone.

Feeling the change, Cal parted his hands, finding a bite-sized pale white cookie. It was light, almost feeling like he was holding nothing at all.

Cal's fingers pressed against it, finding it hard. He raised it to his mouth, and a solid bite had it crumble. The sweet taste met his tongue.

He probably should have added more lemon, but it wasn't so off as to need correction.

"Do you often cook like this?" Alice asked, suddenly a lot closer than before.

Seeing the danger, he finished the cookie. She'd have to wait for the main batch.

"Used to be my go-to," Cal responded, going to the cabinets and retrieving a baking sheet. "Broke the oven early on and had no idea how to fix it." Warranty on appliances did not extend to the Waste. "Some recipes were fine, but other times I'd be sitting there like an idiot for hours on end."

He set it on the counter and then made one more trip for a piping bag. Filling the bag with as much as it could hold from the contents of the bowl, he started squeezing it so that the mixture was pushed out of the star-shaped tip. Cal completed one swirl of a future cookie and then moved on to the next.

"Callum," Alice's tone caused him to look up. She was staring at him intently as if piecing together some puzzle. "Do you know what would happen if one of our peers, or even myself, attempted the same?"

They'd probably bur-

Oh, right.

"Can you say that would be the same if it were the difference between having something edible or not?" Cal deflected. Quite well if the way she seemed to choke on her follow-up was any indication. "Sounds like you slackers aren't trying hard enough."

He added some humor at the end, softening the blow. That aspect of his upbringing, or lack thereof, had been reconciled.

A small smile formed, only to be hidden by a hand. When it was lowered, all traces were removed.

"I did not mean to make light of that. I merely find it somewhat humorous that part of your skill can be explained by baking, of all things. Should that and your ability be revealed, I think we may see a stark rise in future Lords and Ladies driving their house staff mad by occupying the kitchens."

That was kind of funny. He'd never considered this to be a contributor to his control. In hindsight, it could certainly be given some credit.

"I admit my curiosity has gotten the best of me. What are you preparing?"

Hadn't he explained it? A quick recall told him it had slipped his mind.

"They're meringue cookies. You know, like the ones we all had together in the city."

Her eyes lit up, but only for a moment as soon as a dour expression came over her.

Belatedly, he realized why they'd been eating them in the first place. Or who they had seen specifically.

"Before I continue, I want to point out that everything's fine and there were zero repercussions to this," Cal hedged for any extreme reactions. "But I fed Marcus to a giant squid."

Intentions aside, that was how things ultimately played out.

"I-no." Alice stopped herself, her fingers pressing against her uniform. "Do I want to know how that came to be about?"

It sounded like she did…

"I said we were training, and then just shoved him into the pool. I actually didn't mean for him to get eaten, but it sort of just happened."

Because he'd been busy snooping on someone else.

"And you say, despite this, there were no consequences?"

Well, if he considered earlier today, that wasn't exactly right.

"He seemed happy enough. I let him take a bunch of shots at me to even things out."

He was not even given a chance to explain what the giant jugs of water he had brought this morning were for before Marcus hijacked their training.

"How long was he... indisposed?"

Cal did not have a great response to that; it had taken him a bit to notice. Shame on him for putting too much stock in the Academy's second strongest.

"Not long, and he came out of it one piece. No healing needed."

His clothes had seen better days, but he imagined Marcus could snap his fingers and have hundreds more prepared for him.

Alice's shoulders were rigid. Her face was stony, devoid of emotions.

Bringing this up was looking to have been the wrong call.

Plan B it was.

Cal took the spoon, flicking it.

A glob of batter hit her between the eyes, sticking there a moment before gravity had it travel down her nose.

It landed on the floor with a plop.

No reaction.

Plan C.

Due to a lack of creativity, it heavily resembled its predecessor.

Alice smacked the second glob out of the air.

Cal abandoned the spoon, palming a scoop and getting ready to escalate.

A hand clamped down on his wrist, red eyes threatening to burn a hole in him.

"Don't."

Her words said one thing, but her tone carried a hint of anticipation.

At least he liked to think it did.

He yanked his hand free, taking a step back and lobbing the piece of batter. Prepared this time, Alice dove underneath it, swiping at the baking sheet.

An uncooked cookie hit him square on the chest, rolling down his tie. An uneasy lull descended on them as Alice seemed to realize what she'd just done.

Cal grinned, Alice frowned, and Benny, wherever he was, was probably better off never knowing how much of a mess they turned the club room into.

Sometime later, and now covered in batter, Cal turned toward the door as its handle dipped down.

The door swung open, and a piece of dough smacked into Cal's cheek.

Both combatants froze.

"I believe I have the wrong room," Sebastian said after a brief pause.

So his text hadn't gotten lost.

"Your Highness?" Alice blurted out, the politeness dampened by her hair being coated in partially cooked cookie bits. "Apologies, there was a-"

Her mouth seemed to struggle to finish the sentence. Why was she…right. It was tough to remember what he told her. All the more reason to give half-truths.

Fortunately, there was an easy way to smooth over this awkwardness.

"Hey Sebby," Cal delivered, tossing a ball of dough up and down. "You know people usually respond to text and don't just drop in unannounced."

Sebastian, who had been already backing out the door, paused in his steps.

"As a royal, I am under no obligation to answer every petition for my attention."

Too bad Cal didn't care about that. He blurred, appearing between the boy and the door. A simple push had the kid stumbling, trying to prevent himself from falling. Cal shut the door.

The prince succeeded in his efforts and snapped his head around.

Cal flicked his wrist.

The look of bewilderment on the kid's face looked much funnier once covered in dough.

Alice was still stopped in time, still trying to comprehend the sequence of events.

"What?" He shrugged. "I told you there were other people I could ask about politics."

The earful he got after was well worth her reaction.