Текст книги "The Heir "

Автор книги: Kiera Cass

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CHAPTER 21

DINNER THAT NIGHT WAS PLEASANT because I could tell the boys had learned from Jack’s mistake. They all sat a little taller as I entered, nodding their heads as I passed, and I sensed that, once again, I’d regained control.

Dad looked a little calmer as well, though I could tell he hadn’t quite let go of all his worry. Ahren leaned across the table to give me a conspiratorial wink, and it was almost like this terrible thing had made life a little better.

Dad had suggested that I try to make conversation with the boys at dinner, but calling out over all those people felt rude. I didn’t think I could do that, at least not in a way that felt natural. I knew that, even with what I’d gone through, I was expected to get back out there. Instead of talking, I looked at my options. . . .

Of all the boys left, Ean struck me as the most intimidating. Not because he seemed violent in any way, but because of that constant pride and calmness that hung around him, like an earthquake couldn’t make him move if he didn’t want it to.

So maybe going out with him next would conquer a fear in some way. There was no way he was as impervious as he seemed. We’d simply need to do something in the open and make sure the photographers came.

As if he could read my thoughts, Ean looked up at me at that very second, and I turned away, pretending to be engrossed with my brother.

I noticed Kaden was reading a newspaper beneath the table.

“What’s that article about?” I asked.

He answered without looking away, like he was trying to finish his day’s work before the end of dinner. “A collection going around in an area in Midston. They’re raising money for a girl to go to art school. She’s talented, but she can’t afford to study on her own. She says . . . hold on. Here it is. ‘I come from a line of Threes. My family thinks it’s beneath me to study art, even though the castes no longer exist. It’s hard. I remind them that the queen was born a Five, and she’s brilliant. They won’t pay for my schooling, so I’m asking for help to pursue my dreams.’

“Look at the picture of her paintings. They aren’t bad.”

I grew up with a deep appreciation for art, and while her work wasn’t an aesthetic I particularly cared for, I could see she was talented.

“They’re good. It’s so silly. The point of getting rid of the castes was so people could have the choice of whatever profession they wanted, and they’re not even using it. It’s almost like they don’t want it to work.”

“Setting up a system to allow something doesn’t mean people will do it.”

“Obviously,” I commented coldly, sipping my drink.

“The key is to make them understand that. Do you remember Mom showing us those old history books and how the United States had that paper”—he paused to think of the name—“the Declaration of Independence? And it said the people were allowed to pursue happiness. But no person making that document could actually hand over happiness.”

I smiled. “You’re too smart.”

“I’d take that as a compliment, but last week you were caught kissing Kile in the dark.”

“Oh, ha ha ha,” I said, tempted to stick out my tongue at him. “It’s not like my opinion ever mattered much anyway.”

“Are you going to marry Kile?”

I nearly choked. “No!”

Kaden laughed wildly, making most of the room look our way.

“I take it back,” I said, dabbing my lips. “You are a singularly gifted idiot!”

I stood, flicking Kaden’s ear as I passed. “Hey!”

“Thanks for being there for me, Kaden. You’re a great brother.”

He rubbed at his ear, still grinning. “I try.”

Marry Kile, I thought, doing my best not to burst out laughing again. If he could continue to be discreet, the chances of me kissing Kile again were very, very high . . . but I couldn’t imagine actually being married to him.

I wasn’t sure I could imagine being married to any of these boys.

I wasn’t sure I could imagine being married at all. . . .

I slowed, looking at some of their faces as I passed. What would it be like to fall asleep next to Hale? Or to have Baden slip a ring on my finger?

I tried to picture it and couldn’t. I remembered Ahren mentioning that some of the Selected asked him if it was possible I liked girls, but even thinking about that made me laugh. I knew that wasn’t what was stopping me from genuinely being able to connect with a boy . . . but I sensed now that something was. It wasn’t simply a desire to be independent; there was a wall around me, and I wasn’t completely sure why.

But wall or no wall, I’d made a promise.

When I got to Ean, I paused.

“Mr. Cabel?”

He stood and bowed. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“Do you ride horses?”

“I do.”

“Would you like to accompany me on a ride tomorrow?”

A wicked glint came into his eye. “I would.”

“Excellent. See you then.”

I chose to wear a dress and do the whole thing sidesaddle. It wasn’t my favorite way to ride, but I thought a touch of femininity would add to the purpose of the afternoon.

When I walked out to the stables, Ean was waiting for me, saddling his horse.

“Ean!” I called as I approached.

He lifted his head and waved. He was very handsome, the kind of person I thought people expected to see next to me. Every action of his was controlled, and I was determined to match him and not let myself be anxious.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Almost. I need to grab my saddle.” I walked past him into the stalls.

“Is that what you’re going to wear?”

I whipped back around. “I can do more in ten minutes wearing this dress than most men can do all day wearing pants.”

He laughed. “I don’t doubt it.”

Butterscotch was at the back, in a slightly wider stall than most of the others. A princess’s horse deserved some space and a good view.

I prepped her and walked back to Ean. “If you don’t mind, we’re going to take some photos in the garden first.”

“Oh. No, that’s fine.”

We took our horses by the reins and walked them around to the garden. A man with a camera was there, snapping shots of the sky or trees as he waited. When he saw us, he came over.

“Your Highness,” he greeted, shaking my hand. “I’m Peter. I thought it’d be nice to get a few pictures of the two of you together.”

“Thank you.” I petted Butterscotch. “Where do you want us?”

Peter looked around. “If you can put the horses by a tree, I think a couple of shots in front of this fountain would look nice.”

I let go of Butterscotch, knowing she wouldn’t run. “Come on,” I said warmly.

Once he had tied his horse to a branch, I took his hands. Peter wasted no time. Ean and I smiled and looked shyly away from each other, and this little walk was documented in pictures. We stood in front of the fountain, sat against a shrub, and even took a couple of pictures in front of the horses.

When Peter announced that would be plenty, I nearly threw my arms up in celebration. He walked off rather quickly, grabbing his bags and double-checking his camera. I looked around, and as promised, we weren’t completely alone. Guards lined the palace walls, and a few workers moved around the grounds, tending the grass and paths.

“Here, Butterscotch!” I walked up to her, and she flicked her tail.

Ean masterfully mounted his horse, and I was happy that he was as competent as he’d led me to believe.

“Forgive me, but that seemed a bit staged,” Ean said as we trotted toward the edge of the lawn.

“I know. But allowing them to capture staged moments means that I get to keep the candid moments private.”

“Interesting. So, was that scene with Kile staged or private, then?”

I smirked. Wow, he was quick.

“Last time we spoke, it sounded like you had something you wanted to talk about,” I reminded him.

“I do. I want to be honest with you. But that will require you being completely honest with me. Can you do that?”

Looking into his face, I wasn’t sure I could give him what he asked for. Not today.

“That depends.”

“On?”

“Many things. I don’t tend to divulge my soul to people I’ve only known two weeks.”

We trotted on for a few minutes in silence.

“Favorite food?” he asked, a satisfied smile on his face.

“Do mimosas count?”

He chuckled. “Sure. What else . . . favorite place you’ve ever visited?”

“Italy. Partly for the food and partly for the company. If they come here, you have to meet the royal family. They’re too much fun.”

“I’d like that. Okay, favorite color?”

“Red.”

“Power color. Nice.”

He stopped quizzing me for a moment, and we continued on our path around the palace. It was kind of peaceful. We passed the front gates, and the gardeners stopped their work and bowed as we went by. Once we were out of their hearing, Ean brought his horse closer to mine.

“I could be very wrong, but I’m going to take a guess at some things about you.”

“Go ahead,” I dared.

He hesitated. “Hold on. Let’s stop over here.”

Along the palace wall there was a lone bench, and we pulled up to it.

I hopped off Butterscotch and sat on the small space with Ean.

“Your Highness.”

“Eadlyn.”

“Eadlyn.” He swallowed, showing the first chink in his super-confident armor. “I get the feeling that the Selection isn’t something you truly wanted to do.”

I said nothing.

“If it was, perhaps it’s not what you thought it would be, and now you’re in a situation you don’t particularly like. Most women would die to have dozens of men at their beck and call, but you come across as distant.”

I smiled kindly. “I told you. I don’t open up to people I just met.”

He shook his head. “I’ve seen you on the Report for years. You seem above something like this.”

I inhaled deeply, unsure what to say.

“I come to you with an offer. You may not need it at all, but I want to present the option all the same.”

“What could you, sir, offer to your future queen?”

He smiled, seeming sure of himself again. “A way out.”

It was risky to ask what he meant, but I couldn’t help being curious. “How?”

“I would never hold you down. I would never hold you back. I wouldn’t even ask you to love me. If you choose me, you can have a marriage free of conventional restraints. Make me your king, and you would be free to reign however you see fit.”

I brushed out my dress. “You would never be king.”

He tilted his head comically. “Not your type?”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s neither here nor there. Any man who married me would never be king. He would be a prince consort, as no one can hold a title higher than mine.”

“I’d take that.”

I leaned on the arm of the bench. “Out of curiosity, why make such an offer? You’re very charismatic, quite handsome. I’d assume you could have a marriage filled with happiness, which makes me wonder why you would commit yourself to one you just admitted would be loveless.”

He nodded. “That’s a fair question. Personally, I believe love to be overrated.”

I couldn’t help but smile.

“I come from a large family. Six children. I’ve managed to scrape by, but I don’t want to live that life forever. The chance at a comfortable life with an agreeable woman is better than anything else I can hope for.”

“Agreeable?” I raised an eyebrow. “Is that it?”

He chuckled. “I like you. You are yourself at all costs. I certainly don’t consider marrying a clever, beautiful, powerful woman settling. And I can offer you the means to an end if you find no one suitable in this group. Honestly, I can tell you, the majority of these guys are jokes. And you can give me something I’ve never had.”

I considered. So far the Selection hadn’t been anything I’d expected. It had opened with people assaulting me with food, complaining about my first elimination, and judging my kiss with Kile. Even though I was just figuring out that, for me, there was something inherently unappealing about getting married, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d take someone simply for the sake of making Dad happy. Every time I looked into his eyes, I was more and more aware of how tired he seemed.

I loved my dad.

But I also loved myself.

And I would have to live with me much longer.

“You don’t have to say yes or no,” Ean said, drawing me back to the moment. “I’m simply saying that I’m here if you need me.”

I nodded. “I can’t say if I’ll even consider it.” I stood. “For now let’s continue our ride. I don’t get to see my Butterscotch nearly enough.”

And we did ride for quite a while longer, but Ean didn’t speak much. It was comfortable in a way not to be burdened with the need to make conversation. Ean would take my silence gratefully. I wondered if that could last, if he would eventually tire of that kind of life.

For the time being I studied him. Handsome, proud, straightforward. His confidence didn’t hinge on my approval, and I knew I wouldn’t worry about receiving his. I could possibly be married without actually feeling like I was. . . .

He might be a very attractive suitor, indeed.

CHAPTER 22

I SENT EAN IN SHORTLY thereafter, and he didn’t protest at all, maybe proving right away that he would be as compliant as I needed him to be. It was certainly an interesting proposition, though I’d have to get much further along in this process before I could know if I’d need to use it or not.

Too soon, I had to get ready for dinner, so I put Butterscotch away and took a brush to my boots. I wasn’t terribly dirty. “Night, night,” I whispered to my horse, slipping her a piece of sugar before heading back to the palace.

“Eadlyn!” someone called as I entered the palace.

It was Kile. He was talking with Henri, Erik, Fox, and Burke. He gave the others a sign to wait for him and jogged down the hall to me.

“Hey,” he said, his crooked smile settling on his face. He looked a little nervous.

“How are you?”

“Good. I was talking with some of the guys, and we have a proposal for you.”

I sighed. “Another one?”

“Huh?”

“Nothing.” I shook my head to clear it. “Should I come speak to them now?”

“Well, yeah, but I wanted to ask you something first.”

“Sure.”

Kile stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Are we okay?”

I squinted. “Kile, you realize you’re not actually my boyfriend, right?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I do. But, I don’t know, I liked having someone to show my designs to and laugh with, and I wanted to come check on you after I heard about Jack, but I was afraid you wouldn’t want to talk about it. Then I was afraid that staying away would make you upset, too. Do you know how difficult you are?”

“I’d forget, but you keep reminding me!” I teased.

Kile fidgeted. “I’ll ease up. But seriously, are we okay?”

I watched as he bit his lip, and I had to fight myself from daydreaming about them. He said he was here for me, so I hoped, maybe, I’d get to feel those lips again.

“Yes, Kile. We’re okay. Don’t worry so much.”

“All right. Come over here. I think you’re going to like this idea.”

We turned and walked down to the cluster of boys waiting. Henri immediately kissed my hand.

“Hello today,” he greeted, making me laugh.

“Hello, Henri. Burke, Fox. Hi, Erik.”

“Your Highness,” Burke began. “Maybe this is a little out of line, but we were thinking that the Selection is a very challenging time for you.”

I chuckled. “You have no idea.”

Fox smiled. He and Burke looked a little comical next to each other. Burke was so burly, and he was so lean. “It has to be crazy. You have your work to do, and then you need to find time to do solo dates or try to get around to everyone at a party. It seems exhausting.”

“So we had an idea,” Kile said. “Could the four of us do something with you this week?”

This was completely brilliant. “Yes!” I exclaimed. “That would be great. Any ideas on what to do?”

“We were thinking about cooking together.” Burke’s face was so happy, I couldn’t say no, even though that was exactly what I wanted to do.

“Cooking?” I said, a fake smile plastered on my face.

“Come on,” Kile urged. “It’ll be fun.”

I exhaled nervously. “All right. Cooking. How about tomorrow night?”

“Perfect!” Fox said quickly, like he was worried I’d change my mind.

“Okay. Thursday, six o’clock. I’ll meet you in the foyer, and we can walk to the kitchens together.” This was going to be a nightmare. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get ready for dinner.”

I headed upstairs wondering if there was any way to make this better. I doubted it.

“Neena,” I called, walking into my room.

“Yes, miss?”

“Can you start a bath? I need one before dinner.”

“Certainly.”

I wrestled with my boots and flung off my dress. Besides the simple giving and responding to orders, we hadn’t spoken much lately, and I had to admit, it was hard on me. My room was my retreat, the place I rested and sketched and hid from the world. Neena was a part of that, and her being upset with me set everything off-kilter.

I walked into the bathroom, happy to find that she was dropping pieces of lavender into the tub without me asking.

“Neena, you’re a mind reader.”

“I try,” she said slyly.

I moved cautiously, not wanting to anger her again. “Have you heard from Mark recently?”

It seemed she couldn’t help her smile. “Yes, just yesterday.”

“What did you say he studied again?” I slipped into the warm water, already feeling better.

“Biochemistry.” She looked down. “I admit, he uses plenty of words I don’t understand when he tells me about it, but I get the idea of what he means.”

“I wasn’t trying to imply I thought you were stupid, Neena. I was curious. I thought that was obvious.” Biochemistry. Something about that rang a bell.

She sighed and dropped more lavender into the bath. “It came out much harsher than that.”

“There are boys here from very different walks of life than mine. I can hardly stand to be in the same room with some of them. It was intriguing that the two of you do such varied jobs and still manage to share common ground.”

She shook her head. “We work. It’s not something you can figure out on paper. Some people are meant to be together.”

I leaned back in the tub. If there was no way to explain anything, then why bother? I thought again of Ean’s offer and Kile’s worry and Hale’s questions. I couldn’t believe how murky everything had become. I barely understood my own feelings anymore. I knew I wanted my independence, and the idea of any man coming up behind me trying to fix my work or do it for me was unacceptable. Then I thought of Dad’s gray hairs, slowly mixing in with the blond, and wondered how far I’d go to make his life easier.

It was strange. Basically, every boy downstairs was an option, if I really had to choose one. And each of them could easily hurl my world into a new trajectory. I didn’t like that. I wanted to be in charge of my path. I wondered if that was the reason for putting a fence around myself, if it was the worry that anyone who crossed it would take away my control.

But maybe that control was an illusion. Even if I passed on all the Selected boys, would someone eventually come along and make me not even care about control? Would he cause me to hand it over willingly?

It seemed impossible, something I certainly couldn’t have imagined happening a few weeks ago.

There were still plenty of reasons to keep my guard up, and I knew I would. Still, I didn’t think I’d be able to ignore the way these boys were affecting me much longer.

CHAPTER 23

I WAITED NERVOUSLY IN THE palace foyer. I wasn’t sure about what I was wearing—what did people wear to cook?—or how to fake expertise in the kitchen or how to disperse attention evenly among four suitors.

And while I knew having a photographer there was both good for publicity and personal safety, the idea of someone documenting this night did not make me feel any less jittery.

I pulled at my shirt, which was rather plain in case I got dirty, and touched my hair, making sure it was still in place. The clock showed the boys were four minutes late, and I was getting antsy.

Just as I was about to send a butler to fetch them, I heard the echo of voices in the hallway. Kile rounded the corner first. Burke was right beside him, clearly trying to buddy up to the alleged leader of the pack. Fox was with Henri, both smiling quietly. Not far behind, Erik walked with his hands tucked behind him. His presence was necessary, but I sensed he felt a little out of place as the sole nonparticipant in a group date.

Kile rubbed his hands together. “You ready to eat?”

“Eat, yes. Cook? We’ll see how that goes.” I tried to hide my worry with a smile, but I think Kile knew.

“So is it true you two have known each other your whole lives?” Burke asked. It was so abrupt, I didn’t know how to respond.

“Trust me, you’ve got the better end of the deal,” Kile replied smoothly, elbowing him in the ribs.

“It’s true,” I confirmed. “It’s like Kile said on the Report: I never considered him boyfriend material until I was forced to. He’s like family.”

Everyone laughed, and I realized how true that was. It annoyed me whenever Josie told people she was like my sister, but I did know both her and Kile better than I knew my cousins.

“The kitchen is this way,” I said, pointing past them to the dining hall. “The staff knows we’re coming, so let’s go cook.”

Kile shook his head at my fake enthusiasm but said nothing.

We walked to the back of the dining hall and rounded a partition. There was a wide dumbwaiter the staff used to bring up carts of food next to a stairwell that led to the main kitchen. Burke rushed to my side quickly, offering his arm as we traveled down the wide steps.

“What do you want to cook tonight?” he asked.

I wondered if my face showed my shock. I really thought someone else would be providing the ideas.

“Oh, I’m kind of up for whatever,” I hedged.

“Let’s make courses,” Kile suggested. “An appetizer, an entrée, and a dessert.”

“That sounds good,” Fox agreed.

Erik piped up from the back. “Henri and I will do dessert, if that’s all right.”

“Sure,” Kile answered.

I could smell the dinner that was being prepared for the rest of the palace. I couldn’t pinpoint everything, but there was a delicious hint of garlic in the air, and I suddenly had a new reason to hate this date: I had to postpone actually eating.

In a low-ceilinged room, a dozen people with their hair pulled back tightly or tucked under scarves were running around, tossing vegetables into pots of steaming water or double-checking the seasonings of the sauces. Despite the fact that there was still a meal to finish preparing for everyone in the palace, the staff had cleared half of the space for us to use.

A man in a tall chef’s hat approached us. “Your Highness. Will this be enough room?”

“More than enough, thank you.”

I remembered his face from a few weeks ago when he’d presented me with the sample ideas for the first dinner. I’d been so annoyed at the time, Mom did most of the choosing, and I hadn’t even thought to thank him. Looking around and seeing how much work was going into a single meal, I felt ashamed of myself.

“Missä pidät hiivaa?” Henri asked politely.

My eyes went to Erik, who spoke up. “Pardon me, sir, but where do you keep your yeast?”

Fox and Burke giggled, but I remembered what Erik had told me once and what was crudely worded on Henri’s own application: he was a cook.

The chef waved Henri down, and he and Erik followed him closely, trying to chat. The chef was clearly excited to have someone with some experience in the room. The other boys . . . not so much.

“Okay, so . . . let’s go see what’s in the fridge.” Fox hesitantly led the way to one of several large refrigerators along the wall. I looked at the organized contents—parchment-wrapped meats labeled in pencil, the four different types of milk we used, and the various sauces or starters prepped and stored ahead of time—and knew I was way out of my league.

I heard a click and turned to see the photographer had arrived.

“Just pretend I’m not here!” she whispered cheerfully.

Kile grabbed some butter. “You always need butter,” he assured me.

I nodded. “Good to know.”

Burke found a pile of something on the counter. He turned to the chef. “What is this?”

“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.