“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 chicken 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.”