Rowan took Chandler up to bed, leaving Nori and Archie to finish off the dishes. Archie had grown quieter around Nori—more nervous. More like how he was when she first met him. A stumbling, stuttering fool.

"So, you, uh, how's Flambé doing?"

"He was doing well for a few weeks. Now he's back to being bad. He said he wants to cook for me again, but he can't stand long and his hands are always shaking."

"Another memory meal?"

"Maybe." Nori sighed. "I just now started dreaming as myself again."

"I wonder if the Bhantla gave me something like that."

"You've been dreaming as the Bhantla?"

"No, but I'm still having those dreams. The ones where we're talking. But I can't ever remember what we talked about, and after a few days, I forget that I dreamed about her at all. Then I get another dream—I had one a couple days ago—and remember all the times I had a similar dream."

"You should keep a journal."

"Yeah, maybe." Archie dried off a plate with a towel. "I hope he gives you another."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean, the last one didn't make sense. Toe—what was his name?"

"Tosami."

"Yeah, Tosami. He said they could make Flambé grand king, right? So why was there a war at all if Uroko was always willing to unify?"

"I asked him. He said he was waiting for the right time to show me."

"Yeah, well, it sounds like he won't be around much longer. You should push him."

"Maybe." Nori covered her hand in soap to get rid of the spongy smell. She wasn't sure if she wanted to dream as Flambé again. The last time had messed with her head for a month. But she was curious…

"You're sure?" Flambé stood over the flowers of the garden. His body would not let him stoop down to truly admire their beauty. He had grown stiff and contracted, shriveling up. Most days that Nori came to visit, they just sat at the dining table or in a lounge, Flambé always taking the seat closest to the fire like an old cat. His walks around his quarters were about all he could manage as far as physical activity.

Nori held his arm and helped him along. "If you won't tell me, I want you to show me."

"Very well. Take me to my kitchen." Flambé coughed, forcing Nori to help him stay upright.

"It doesn't have to be today. We can wait until you're feeling better."

Flambé finished coughing and smiled weakly. "Tomorrow's not guaranteed. Come. I'll need your help. Let's go that way around. Don't want Hollyhock knowing. She never lets me cook anymore."

It wasn't the first time Nori had been in Flambé's personal kitchen. She had seen it a few times that year and once some fifty years ago. It had been built as an exact replica of his childhood home's kitchen. Nori had to tell herself that she wouldn't see Laksa's body when she turned around.

Flambé had Nori help fetch ingredients and measure out spices, but the closest he let her get to actually cooking was filling a pot with water. He worked slowly with none of the tricks typical of a White Jacket, taking almost an hour to make a basic fish stew. Every so often, he would stop with a handful of ingredients and close his eyes. He was about halfway through when he smiled at Nori.

"You remind me of someone, you know. It's hard to keep my memories straight. I think of her, then I think of…" He sighed and got back to his pot. "Can you get me some lemons? Two should do."

Once finished, Flambé insisted they eat in the dining room. Nori held a spoonful of the stew over her bowl. The essence in the liquid whipped around like snow off a mountaintop. "So what's in this one?"

Flambé creaked and groaned like an old door as he settled in the chair next to her. "Bay leaf."

"You know what I mean."

Flambé might have laughed if he had the strength. "The truth."

"The truth or your truth?"

Flambé frowned. "That, no one can ever know."

The flavor went down without note, but the essence jumped and spiked through her body.

Nori went to bed early, but fell asleep late, spending hours wondering what she would see and trying to remember her previous visions of Flambé's past. She rolled over and desperately wished for sleep, but something felt off. The room had been rearranged and filled with bunk beds.

"Flambé? You awake?" someone whispered in the dark.

"Yes," Nori responded. But her voice was deep. And why did she respond? She hadn't meant to. Her mouth moved on its own. "What is it?"

A head dangled from the bunk bed above. Tarragon, she knew. Young Tarragon, maybe just a few years older than Nori. He reminded her of Oliver with his wild blonde hair. "I heard you were a fifth-year."

"That's right."

"I thought they only let you attend four years."

"They made an exception for me. I spent a year at each school. No one has ever done that."

"Whoa. What was that like?"

"Enlightening. It was very interesting to see how all the different kingdoms operate."

"Which was your favorite?"

"All of them."

"Boo. Boring answer." Tarragon swung back up to his bed, and Nori thought their conversation would end and she could finally get to sleep, but Tarragon's head appeared again. "Where are you from?"

"Palm Coast."

"Oh, so you're Urokan? Or wait. I guess you're Platterian, right? Has Uroko had it that long? How does that work?"

"It was The Platter when I was born. Then it became Uroko."

"So you're Platterian."

"I spent my adolescence in Uroko. In Kiham."

"So you're Urokan."

Flambé breathed in the night air and smiled. "I'm Ambrosian."

"Boo. What's that even supposed to mean?"

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"As long as it's not boring."

"I'm going to be grand king."

"What's that?"

"Stick with me and I'll show you."

Tarragon laughed and swung his head back up out of sight. "I like you, Flambé. You're interesting. I think we could end up being best friends."

"Sorry, that position is taken."

"Oh yeah? By who?"

"His name is Yuzu Harper. He's back in Kiham trying to open a sushi restaurant."

"A sushi restaurant? In Uroko? What an original idea. Hey, did you see the new first-years? One of them's a Glutton."

"They wouldn't let a Glutton into the school."

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"Seriously. I don't know what the Academy is doing. Now we got fifth-years and Gluttons. Interesting times, interesting times."

Flambé closed his eyes, but instead of falling asleep, the room swirled and whizzed by. Nori separated from Flambé, standing in the white void as she waited to land in some other memory. She had forgotten how nauseating the experience was. Like her soul was spinning dizzy in her skin.

She landed in the royal box of The Serving Bowl. Down below, two fighters went at it with two oversized spatulas. King Basil seemed far more interested in Flambé than the fight.

"So let me get this straight. You're already part of the delegation to Uroko and Khala. Now you want to also be part of the delegation to Kuutsu Nuna and Labrusca?"

"I could go during the winter," Flambé said. "I would shorten my stay in Khala to free up another month to spend here."

King Basil rubbed the white hair of his goatee. "I'm not so young as to not see that you have ambitions, Flambé, but I'm not sure what they are, exactly. You have indefinitely deferred your dukeship, and for what? So you can travel the world for six months of the year and spend the rest of it here absorbing the abuse and triviality of foreign diplomats?"

The announcer urged the crowd to welcome the star of the next fight, the three-time champion, Tarragon. Flambé resisted the urge to break eye contact with the king. This ambition was more important than his friendship.

"I'm just a servant of the kingdom," Flambé said.

"Surely. Or maybe you fancy yourself a king. My daughter is still unwed, and I know everyone finds her a beauty. She likes you, you know."

Through Flambé, Nori recalled what Princess Crosnee looked like. Wavy red hair. Freckles. Well-dressed. Well-proportioned, leaning on the slender side. A true beauty. Nothing like the Crosnee Nori knew. But Nori could also catch wisps of past memories and knew that the princess was insufferable, conceited, and bratty.

"I know that such marriages must stand to strengthen the realm, and that I have little to offer other than Palm Coast."

King Basil scoffed. "I'd almost give her to you just to take it back from those barbarians."

Flambé smiled, letting the offensive comment slide off of him. "What if I could give you more? What if I could give you every kingdom?"

"Then I'd make you my heir tomorrow." Basil laughed. "King Flambé has a nice sound to it."

"Grand King Flambé. That's how I'd be titled."

Basil stopped laughing. "You're serious."

Flambé never broke eye contact—even when the crowd cheered Tarragon's name. "Wed me to your daughter. As prince, I'll be better suited to make arrangements with all of the kingdoms."

Basil recoiled at the audacity. "I joked about it, but you really came here today to ask for her hand."

"I came here today to give you the world. All of it."

Basil rubbed his goatee again and hummed as he thought. "I'll give you an engagement. A public one. But I'll be grand king before you."

"Deal."

"The Urokans will never agree to subjugation. They'll need to be conquered."

"I can find a way to avoid war."

The world zipped away, but only a few weeks passed. Nori landed as Flambé made his way up Restaurant Row and toward the royal keep. Tosami came from the other way. Flambé wasn't sure if it was him at first, but the hobbled walk gave the Harper away.

"Tosami! Tosami!" Flambé jumped up to be seen through the crowd.

At first, Tosami pulled his collar over his face and scampered away, but upon seeing Flambé, he relaxed and straightened up.

Flambé ran up to him. "What're you doing here?"

"Sansho is tired of waiting. We're putting things in motion."

"Wait, what?"

"Unification starts today."

"What? We have a plan. Ten more years and—"

"You'll have to prove it, Flambé. To everyone."

"What?"

Tosami pulled his collar back up and left Flambé standing there flabbergasted. Flambé composed himself and made his way toward the keep, but he was not let through. A swarm of guards blocked the gate. Flambé approached one he knew.

"What's going on?"

The guard shook his head and spoke quietly. "Someone assassinated King Basil."

The world went into motion and stayed in motion, whisking Nori through a year of backroom meetings and bloodshed. She was spit out on a battle march to Palm Coast. Tarragon walked next to her saying something about Flambé taking back his homeland.

And then the world moved again. But this time it felt different. If the previous shifts had been a steep drop, this was a steep climb, the blood rushing out of Nori's head and leaving her lightheaded.

She stopped in time, but her head spun too much for her to perceive the first few minutes of whatever memory Flambé had imparted upon her. The details of the memory faded in until she could see the Urokan beach and Yuzu marching alongside her.

But Yuzu was young. Nori had gone backward to an older memory.

Yuzu squealed as Flambé speared a crab in the rocks.

"Calm down, Yuzu. This is the way the world is."

Time moved again, giving Nori whiplash. She landed back in Palm Coast just after her previous vision with Tarragon. She still had a spear in her hand—or rather, Flambé did. She found it harder and harder to tell the difference. She experienced Flambé's thoughts. His movements. His muscles worked differently than hers, and no matter how much she tried to move, she could only be moved.

The spear went through a Urokan soldier's leather armor. Blood splattered on Nori's face. She wanted to scream, but Flambé hadn't screamed. He just breathed and killed, his spear flying through the air into another soldier's face. Nori felt essence surge down her arm and conjure another noodle that lengthened, hardened, and sharpened into a new spear.

A horn blew twice. Enemy Chef. Flambé slammed his hand on the ground, foraging to find concentrations of essence. He found four anomalies despite only having three allied Chefs. He moved to the foreign essence. A group of soldiers stood in his way. Nori tried to close her eyes, but she could only watch and feel as she slaughtered them with ease.

The brief battle had been enough of a delay for Flambé to miss the real fight. By the time he got to the foreign Chef, Tarragon was standing over a disfigured corpse, the smell of acid-burnt flesh heavy in the air.

The fallen Chef still had half of his face, and that half was enough for Flambé to see—for Nori to see—who it was.

"He was tough," Tarragon said.

"His name was Yuzu."

Before Nori could feel all of Flambé's sadness, time moved again, backward this time. Nori found herself in the first battle of the Unification War several months before she would retake Palm Coast. A Urokan soldier clawed at her. She had already taken away the soldier's weapons with her pastamancy, but the soldier would not relent. She threw him aside, but he got up again. She kicked his knee in, but he hobbled after her and picked up a throwing star. She shot a small, hard noodle from her hand, piercing his throat. Her first kill.

Time moved forward and stopped and moved and stopped, sometimes skipping days, sometimes weeks, but always stopping in time for Nori to kill someone. The blood that splattered on her did not wash off between memories until she was coated in red. She must have hopped through fifty memories. She speared and shot and as the fights grew more gruesome and the enemies became more troubling. She abandoned the dignified kills from pastamancy in favor of the flame, burning people alive by the dozen. And in every memory, Flambé was there with her, killing just as many.

Nori's mind numbed to the violence. She stopped having errant thoughts, only thinking whatever Flambé's memory allowed her to think. More bodies, more blood, more burns. It never stopped coming.

She jumped forward to the base of the Urokan estate where she had grown up. Tarragon wailed in pain as he held his half-broken face, the beast of a blonde woman that had hit him folded over and incapacitated against the wall.

Tosami stood on the steps and stared Nori down. "Took you long enough."

"You were supposed to wait," Nori growled. "We had a plan."

Time shifted again, harder than ever. Tosami remained in the void, but he got younger, as did Nori, until she was just a student at the Institute.

"We made some preliminary probes," Tosami said. "It doesn't seem like any of the royal families are keen on the idea of unification."

"I'll convince them," Nori said. "I just need time. I'll ingratiate myself with King Basil. I'll marry his daughter. And all the while, I'll work on whittling down the other kingdoms."

"Labrusca and Kuutsu Nuna hate each other. They'll never join."

"I'll figure out a way."

"You better. You put a dangerous idea in Sansho's head. Either you convince everyone to unite, or he will."

"And how would he do that?"

"By giving them a common enemy."

"Who?"

"Uroko, of course. It works out perfectly. We have the power to threaten conquest. That will get Labrusca and Kuutsu Nuna in line. And the Urokan people would never accept giving up our sovereignty without at least putting on a war first."

"A fake war," Nori clarified.

"Well. People will have to die."

"But you'll minimize the casualties?"

"Within reason."

Nori scoffed. "Within reason. You Harpers. Can I trust you to not lose control?"

"Do you want your dream or not?"

"Yes."

"Then one day, you'll come back to this place as a conqueror. And then you'll be grand king."

Time moved, but Nori had learned to see the memories as they whipped by. The war started, and half a million people died, and then she stood in that same place, facing Tosami and ready to end the war.

"Sorry about the guards," Tosami said. "Mercenaries. Couldn't exactly fill them in on the plan. I hope they didn't give you too much trouble. Come on in, we have the peace treaty ready. Let's make you grand king."

"You said you'd minimize casualties."

Tosami laughed. He laughed at half a million dead. "Well, things got a little out of hand. It's been a while since we've manufactured a war, so we lost our touch a bit. And then you killed Yuzu. Everyone loved Yuzu. So the Harpers had to push to make things more bloody."

"You're a monster."

"Oh, Flambé, please. After everything we've been through? We're the same, you and me. How long has it—"

Nori swung a noodle around Tosami's neck. The old man had gotten slower with age, and he had let his guard down. If only Nori had killed him back on the beach that one day. She had been holding the spear. Maybe she could have caught him off guard back then, too. Maybe they would've locked her up instead of going along with her ambition. What a foolish ambition. Grand king. The dream of a boy that had felt powerless and never wanted to feel that way again.

Tosami's neck snapped with ease.

Nori started to walk inside to finally end this bloody war, but she stopped when she heard a familiar voice.

"Nori! Nori, wake up!"

Blanche? Nori wanted to ask, but she couldn't speak. She couldn't really remember who Blanche was when she thought about it.

"She's shaking. I can't get her up. Oh my—someone! Help! Help!"

Nori wanted to wait to see if the person yelling would show up, but she wanted to end the war more. She stepped over Tosami's dead body.

Time moved again, faster than ever, ten years passing in seconds. When it finally came to a stop, Nori started to see memories that she was never supposed to see.

She rolled over in bed and smiled at the pregnant Urokan woman lying next to her.

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