Gaetan offered one last look before he took off, barreling forward, broad shoulders blocking anyone who tried to duck around him. However, he wasn’t ready for the assistants to descend upon the table like dogs to scraps. They scratched, punched, and bit until their coats were splattered with blood.
Elara’s jaw dropped. Fiona took her hand in a tight grip.
“It’s barbaric,” she whispered.
Gaetan disappeared under a heap of bodies. Elara tried to move forward, but Fiona pulled her back, shaking her head. The assistants were meant for this job. Not them.
By the time Gaetan returned, one eye was beginning to swell, and he had scratches all along his arms and face.
And he had only one ingredient. A small basket of nuts she didn’t recognize.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“A little dustup. That’s all.” He frowned at the basket. “I couldn’t get two.”
But theyneededtwo if they wanted to fit the brief.
“What are these?”
“Calmante seed. They’re damn near impossible to open, but they heighten the senses. Not enough to taste colors or anything, but they’re a bit of a trip.”
Great. The last thing she needed was to drug the Counseil.
“Where did the rest of the ingredients go?” she asked.
From the piled-up tables down the line, the answer was clear. Several chefs had three or four ingredients to choose from while Berina had half the fucking table scattered on her station, her assistant standing guard to keep everyone else away.
“Hey!” Elara snarled. “What the hell is your problem?”
“Some of us want to win.” She didn’t even look away as she measured flour into a bowl. “Clearly, I’m not the only one.”
Only Fiona had the two allotted ingredients.
“Restes,” the curly-haired chef called.
Elara looked up in time to catch a gnarled root of some sort.
“Some of us want a fair fight.” He glanced at Berina before going back to his work.
No one looked up again.
Elara studied the ugly vegetable. It would have to do, because she refused to slit someone’s throat over produce.
“What’s this?” She held up the root.
“Never seen it before,” Gaetan muttered.
Then there was only one way to find out. She sliced a tiny hunk, popped it into her mouth, and chewed.
Her Anespérerian palate was not ready for the fire that scorched across her tongue.Firewas a mild way of putting it. It felt like she’d chewed on a pincushion with a thousand needles prickling her tongue and cheeks. She leaned over the counter, waiting for it to subside. It never did. Even after spitting it onto the gravel, she felt dizzy from pain.
“Easy, kid.” Gaetan was there with a towel at her mouth. “You’re bleeding.”
Sure enough, it was blotted in red.
“What the hell is that thing?” she muttered.
“No idea, but we can’t use it.”
