Nori tasted the soup as Flambé ate it. She laughed when Flambé laughed, even if she didn't find Laksa funny. She felt a tingle in her nose, and Flambé sneezed.

"What do you want to do today?" Laksa asked. Nori had never seen the woman before—whatever she was seeing had happened fifty years ago—but she knew all about her. Laksa was a Palm Coast native in her late thirties that moved in to take care of Flambé after his mother died. She smelled like sandalwood and sweat and ocean and knew how to make delightful dishes with coconut and palm oil. And in a pinch, she had served as a mother for Flambé for nearly five years.

Somehow Nori knew that was about to come to an end.

"I wanna catch crabs," Flambé said. The boy's voice was squeaky and uneven, nothing like the grand voice of the grand king.

"Okay. But you have to spear them yourself."

"Aw. I don't like doing it. Can't I just catch them and give them to you?"

Laksa cupped his cheek. "You're a sweet boy. No violence in you. But you have to accept the way of the world."

"What's that?"

"To eat a creature, you must kill it first."

Flambé frowned at the shrimp in his soup and pushed it away. Nori felt his disgust. "I won't eat them, then."

"It's not just about food, Flambé. It's the world. Few good things come without something bad attached to them."

"Why?"

"It's just the way the world is."

"But why?"

Laksa laughed to herself. "When your father ordered for more plantations, do you think he said the word and the sweet sugar came in the next moment? No, first they had to till the land. Break the rocks. Weeks of hard labor."

"That's just hard work. That's not killing something."

Laksa waved him off. "Ask your father. I'm sure he'll have a better example. But you'll have to learn to stomach such things for when you're duke."

Flambé pouted. "I don't wanna be duke if someone has to die for it."

"Well, then you'll never eat crab in your life. You'll have rice and coconut milk for dinner."

"Okay."

Laksa cupped his face again and smiled at him like a mother would. "You're too sweet for this bitter world, little one."

Flambé grinned and tucked his head away from her embrace. "I'll just have to make the world sweet too, then."

And then the door slammed open.

Flambé's fear echoed in Nori, amplified by her own surprise. A Black Jacket with the silver antlers of a stag stitched across his chest barged into the room.

Laksa screamed, and the Stag launched a tentacle arm that muffled her mouth. Flambé took his fork and lunged for the tentacle, but another Stag came through the door and intercepted him, slamming him onto the table. Nori stumbled backward, his pain becoming hers.

"Careful," the first Stag said. Yet another Stag entered. "Don't hurt him. You, go check the rest of the house."

Flambé screamed and squirmed. "Who are you?"

Laksa thrust her arm at her captor, sharpened bamboo emerging from her wrist. The Stag twisted to dodge, then twisted Laksa's neck. She fell limp and lifeless to the ground as Flambé screamed.

Nori flung acid at the man, but it had no effect. The acid disappeared as soon as it hit anything, and no one reacted to her. Her curiosity of the magic of the memory became horror as she realized she was trapped, unable to do anything but witness the tragedy.

And then the scene disappeared.

The Stags faded into nothingness. The walls, the table, even the floor, all gone in a void of white. Only Laksa remained, her neck twisted too far and drool seeping out of her mouth.

Then the room came back, but it whizzed by, and then another room, and then another, a stream of color and emotion with no footholds. A sharp pain split Nori's head down the middle as the unprocessable information of a year flowed through her. The only thing she could make out was Laksa's body, which still lay there in perfect clarity.

A foamy wave soaked her bare feet. Her arm twitched as Flambé thrust his spear into a crab. The boy had grown, only one year or two, but his body had become wiry and long. Nori felt his strength in her own arms.

Flambé used his foot to unskewer the crab and looked back at the Black Jacket Stag that had accompanied him. Nori knew his name now. Tosami. Tosami Harper. Laksa's murderer. Her body was still lying in the sand as if she had just died.

Nori felt Flambé's intent to kill. Apparently, Tosami did too. "If you throw that spear at me, I'll break your leg."

"You aren't allowed to hurt me."

"I'm not allowed to kill you. I can hurt you all I want." Tosami gingerly touched the scab that stretched up the left side of his face.

"Who did that to you?"

"You ever heard of the Kents?"

"Of course I have."

"Three of them came at me at once."

Flambé scoffed. "You couldn't take three Kents. No one could."

"It wasn't easy. The oldest, Cardoon, got my face. But then I put him down. Shame they wasted a White Jacket like that. He earned his jacket in the kitchen. He should have stayed there. Especially at his age. His magic was sharp, but his body dulled decades ago. He had two sons with him. One of them put up a fight, but he wasn't much more than his old man."

Tosami lifted the leg of his pants, revealing a gnarled, purple knee. His leg muscles stuck out, the flesh around them having burned away.

"The other son, though, he was trouble. I was lucky to not lose my leg. Artichoke. That was his name. I had to learn it after the fight he put up. It's a shame when a Chef dies, no matter who they fight for."

Flambé considered his spear.

"Don't," Tosami said.

"Where's Sansai?"

"In Kiham to see his family. They're having me fill in for a couple of weeks while I recover. But just because I'm hurt doesn't mean you can beat me. And I know Sansai. I'm not as nice as him."

"When do I get to see my family? It's been a long time."

"They told me you've already had your monthly visit. Don't try to trick me."

"It's not fair."

"You're lucky you aren't in a Kihami dungeon right now, you brat. At the very least, you should be locked up here with your old man. Not roaming the beach."

"They only let me walk around so the locals know that I'm a captive. It's a threat to prevent a riot. You'd kill me to prove a point."

Tosami chuckled. "You're smart, at least. Smarter than your old man. He should have rolled over when we came the first time."

Flambé kicked at the sand. "I hope you die."

Tosami looked at his leg. "Death has trouble keeping its grip on me. The war will end soon. I imagine death won't find me for quite a while."

"I'll find you."

Tosami burst into a belly laugh. "I hope you do before I get too old. I'd appreciate the challenge."

"What's going to happen when the war ends?"

"Well, we'll have to make an example of someone. If The Platter had just accepted that Palm Coast belongs to Uroko from the beginning, this all could have been avoided. At the very least, we'll have to install new leadership."

"What does that mean?"

"Means you might be duke sooner than you think."

A wave went up past Nori's feet again, but when it pulled back into the ocean, it took the beach with it. She closed her eyes and groaned as scenes whipped by her. It was like sticking your head out of a carriage while using movemash. Once the carriage of memories came to a stop, she opened her eyes again. Laksa was still there, lying in the dirt. Flambé was older, but not by much. A crowd of Stags surrounded him, a crowd of Palm Coast natives behind them.

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They all watched as the noose went around Flambé's father's neck.

Nori struggled to breathe. Flambé's fear was her fear. Their emotions had grown entangled. Nori wasn't even sure where she was standing in the scene.

Tosami stood next to the hangman. He didn't do the hanging, but Nori blamed him anyway. They explained what Nori already knew. She'd be duke—he'd be duke when he turned eighteen. Until then, he'd be raised in Uroko and taught to rule by those he hated.

The rope dropped. The neck snapped. Flambé did not look away.

Nori hated the crowd. How could they stand around and watch? How could they not see that this man, Tosami, was the cause of all of their problems? He had brought the war to Palm Coast. He was the one that wanted to take it. It was him, all him, and he needed to die. There were hundreds of them. They could swarm him. Rip apart, limb from limb. Some of them would die, sure. Nori would be fine to be one of them as long as she drew breath long enough to watch this man die, this foul man that had killed her caretaker and father.

The splitting pain in Nori's head returned as she realized these weren't her thoughts.

And then the scene warped away again, Laksa still lying in the dirt, but now she had the company of the once beloved duke of Palm Coast, who hung two feet above the ground from a rope that had no point of origin. Nori stayed in the white void alone with them for what felt like an eternity before Flambé finally faded back. He was a couple of years older, still a boy but showing what kind of man he could grow into.

Something about the air struck Nori as familiar. Cicadas buzzed in the thicket of trees. Distant, fuzzy mountains surrounded them in the distance. Whether it was her memory or his, she figured out that they were in Uroko. In Kiham. In the same place that she had grown up.

A quarterstaff appeared in Flambé's hand, then it struck another, then the opponent appeared, a boy a couple years older. Yuzu, Nori remembered. Yuzu Harper, her great uncle. He was older and bigger than Flambé, but Nori knew she had the strength to overtake him—that Flambé could. The pain returned in Nori's head, and she rubbed her forehead, but she couldn't feel her skin on her fingertips. She could only feel the quarterstaff in her hand and the vibrations in her arm as she fought.

Flambé blocked Yuzu's quarterstaff with his own and kicked the larger boy's feet out from under him.

Nori felt Flambé's glee.

"I win!" they both said at once.

"Ugh." Yuzu laid flat on the ground. "How many in a row is that?"

"That's gotta be six or seven. But you almost got me last time."

"Yeah, almost. I hit you full force over the head and you didn't go down."

"Don't lie." Flambé took Yuzu's hand and pulled him up. "You're too nice to use full force. You're not like me. That's why I win."

Yuzu wrung his hands and looked down.

"What?"

"Do you hate me, Flambé?"

Flambé scoffed. "No. You didn't do anything to me."

"But my family…"

"Buncha bastards. All of 'em but you. And your mom. She's nice to me." Flambé looked at the palm trees. He missed Palm Coast's palm trees. There, they were smooth and skinny and tall. Here, they were shorter and fatter with stems spiking out all along the trunk. How typically Urokan. Laksa laid at the foot of one palm. His father was strung up behind another.

"I'm sorry," Yuzu muttered. Nori recognized his expression as the one she wore herself when she thought of her family. Guilty. Shameful.

Flambé tilted his head back, and Nori felt his bitterness fade. "No, I'm sorry. Most everyone is fine, really. They don't mistreat me. I know I'm a prisoner, but sometimes they're nice enough to let me forget."

"You're a ward."

"Same thing."

"Sorry."

"Quit saying sorry, Yuzu."

"Sorry. Oh! Sorry."

They both laughed. Flambé put his arm around Yuzu's shoulders. "You're my best friend. You know that?"

Yuzu embraced him back. "You're my best friend, too. So you won. You pick dinner."

"Sour shrimp soup."

"Again?!"

"I like the way your mom makes it. Reminds me of home."

As Flambé walked inside, he spotted Tosami watching from one of the estate's many balconies. The Black Jacket only stayed in Kiham for a day or two at a time. Flambé noted his room. He'd have to do it that night.

The world blurred again but slower this time. Nori could track the day. They ate, and a tutor taught the boys from books, and Flambé showered that night. Showered hard. He couldn't leave any smell on him.

The world slowed as he checked the knife he had pocketed. Sharp and sturdy. The chirping of crickets spilled in from the night, taking up the cicadas' shift. Everyone in the estate was asleep, or at least Flambé hoped so as he slunk out into the candlelit hallway.

If he ran into someone from the royal family or a servant or a guard, they wouldn't give him any trouble. He'd just say he couldn't sleep. But if a Harper found him? That'd be bad news. And there were plenty of Harpers. The main branch of the Harper family stayed in their own estate, but the rest of them took up residence in the royal estate—perhaps as a show of force. To even call it the royal estate underplayed how many wings had been given to the Harpers.

Flambé knew which wing to go to. He entered through a lesser-used entrance. He knew which floor to go to. He walked up the stairs on his toes. He knew which room. He managed to open the door without it squeaking.

Tosami was laid on his back. Eyes closed. Chest exposed.

Flambé stepped over Laksa. Stepped around his hanging father. He gripped his knife. Held it high. Held it hard.

And he froze. He thought of the crabs.

"Do it or don't," Tosami grumbled.

Flambé lost control of his breath and started shaking. "I'm gonna do it."

"Then do it." Tosami moved his arm off his midsection to make it even easier.

"I'm going to."

Tosami's hand moved, and Flambé jumped, but the Harper was just rubbing his eye. He shifted to make himself more comfortable as if there wasn't a knife hovering above him. "Do you believe in predestination?"

Flambé's hands trembled hard enough to shake his cheeks. "What's predestination?"

"It's like destiny. It's the belief that Ambrosia has a plan for you. That the moment you're born, she determines the events of your life."

"So what? You think whether or not I kill you is up to her?"

"No. I believe in predestination. But of a different kind. Ambrosia doesn't decide. But when you're born, you're put on a path. For you, you were a second old, and the moment they got a look between your legs, they said you'd be the duke of Palm Coast one day. When I was born, they said I'd be a soldier. That's predestination. It's not godly. It comes from those around us. The expectations they set. The actions they demand."

Flambé's hands shook even harder but out of anger rather than uncertainty. "You think that's an excuse for the people you've killed?"

"No. Because then I believe that predestination comes from the self. That once we've started down the path others have set for us, we continue down that road by our own feet. Society's belief in our purpose and our family's belief in our purpose becomes our own belief in our purpose. I don't think I should avoid punishment for what I've done, although I do believe I had little choice in determining who I became. There's only a few moments like that for each of us—moments where we can take another path."

"And this is one of those moments for me, then?"

"I don't know." Tosami shifted and closed his eyes. "Now do it or let me sleep."

Flambé threw the knife on the floor and left Tosami, Laksa, and his father behind.

The world whipped away again hard enough to split Nori's head and reminded her that she was witnessing—not living—these moments. Everything moved faster than it ever had, years going by in a blur. When Nori landed, Flambé was nearly the same age as her. He was eating dinner at a grand table full of royalty and Harpers. Nori searched for the anger and resentment that he had always held and couldn't find it. She only felt his contentment.

"Thank you everyone for coming," he said. "It means a lot to me."

"Of course," someone said. "You only turn seventeen once."

Yuzu elbowed him. "One more year and you're out of here. Will I have to call you Duke Flambé?"

Flambé laughed. "Oh, I don't know. I've been thinking about it recently."

"Don't think you're cut out to be a duke?"

"No, it's…" Flambé hid his face from the other dinner guests. "Okay, no one is allowed to make fun of me because it's my birthday."

Everyone at the table perked up. They all smiled at him. Adored him. Everyone here loved him. Even Tosami, Flambé's mortal enemy for years, sat just a few seats away with eager ears.

"I've had this thought. That maybe…I don't know. Forget it."

"Oh, come on!" Yuzu looked around to get the others to join in on egging Flambé on. They erupted and goaded him, banging on the table with their fists.

"Okay, okay. I was thinking that instead of being duke, I could be…grand king."

The clamor of the table died down to a nervous laughter. When they realized he was serious, they were silent.

"Grand king?" Yuzu asked. "Grand king of what?"

"Of everything. All the kingdoms. All as one. I'd call it United Ambrosia. Coast to coast. And all the islands, of course."

"Wait, you're serious."

Flambé looked around the table, and everyone looked back at him. "I am."

Silence. The oldest man at the table—the one in the crown— muttered something to the man next to him. A few more grumbled.

And then Tosami spoke for them all. "The Harpers can make that happen."

The dinner guests whipped away, and the table, and the floor, and then Flambé too, leaving Nori all alone. She woke with a sinking emptiness.

"I need to see Grand King Flambé." Nori tried to move past the guard, but he stepped in front of her.

"I don't know that he's taking visitors this early."

"You know me. You know I'm here all the time. I need to see him."

"Look, wait here, and maybe—"

"Nori!" Hollyhock shouted from down the hallway. She waved for her to come, and the guard stepped aside. "What are you doing here so early?"

Nori passed the guard, giving him a little stink-eye on her way. "I need to see him."

"I guess it's one of those early mornings. He's been up, too. Been…well, better than he's been in a long time. Seems…unclouded."

Nori didn't care how he seemed. She only cared about how he would explain. "I need to talk to him alone."

Hollyhock recoiled and blinked. "Oh. Okay, um, sure. He's right through there. Anything I need to know?"

"No. Thank you."

Nori left Hollyhock in a stunned silence and found Flambé crouched down looking at a stone statue of a monkey tearing apart a crab. He jumped up with a vitality that Nori hadn't seen from him since he was a teenager.

"Nori! I wasn't sure if you were coming at all today, let alone so early! Shall we have breakfast together?"

"What did you do to me?" Nori clenched her teeth. She hadn't felt like herself all morning, but she knew she felt angry.

Flambé, on the other hand, smiled. "It worked, didn't it? Did it happen in your dreams?"

"I saw your childhood—no. I lived your childhood. I saw…I saw Laksa die. I saw—"

"Laksa?" Flambé crouched down to his statue again and ran his finger along the torn-in-half crab. "Who's that?"

The question stunned Nori. "Laksa. She was…she was your caretaker. She died in front of you."

"Hm." Flambé scratched his chin, but he didn't seem troubled at all. "I think I remember a Laksa, yeah. Now come on, let's go cook some breakfast. I'm feeling good today."

Flambé moved, but Nori didn't.

"What did Tosami Harper do to make you grand king?"

Flambé stopped. He scratched his chin again, this time with the fervor of worry. "A meal for another day, perhaps. Today, I'm feeling good. Today, let's talk about the present and the future. Come on, I'll make some curry."

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