We can all be consumed. Your teammate understands that. The boy. Yarrow. We saw that in him. He'll do well in the new world.

Julienne mulled over Neccio's words as he had for so many weeks. He had come to understand them through his own retelling. Nothing was permanent. No one was invincible. No one was infallible. And Yarrow would bend whichever way the world required of him.

"Alright, let's see 'em!" Pomona chimed as she walked up to Julienne's station.

Julienne squeezed one last bit of lime into his mojito and pushed it forward. Yarrow presented his at the same time, the crumpled up limes in the liquid looking barbaric next to Julienne's clean slices.

Pomona took a little sip and then a long pull from Julienne's, holding the mint leaves back with a finger. She rolled up her sleeve and blew gently along her forearm. Little blonde hairs popped up as gooseflesh spread from her wrist to her elbow.

"Wow, look at that! That's one of the better ones so far, Julienne. Nice job. And now for Yarrow…"

She winced a little as she drank Yarrow's mojito. When she blew on her arm, no hairs prickled up.

"Hm. You did well to bring out the flavor, particularly with the lime, but the chilling effect isn't there." Pomona stepped back and addressed the whole class. "Remember, you're not in Colby's kitchen anymore. While yes, I want you to bring out the flavor, we're really focusing on more magical effects. So prioritize that."

"Is mine still the best?" Oliver called out from the other side of class.

"Barley's had the best chilling effect," Pomona answered before going to the next station.

"That means my tasted the best," Oliver bragged to Cress, who rolled her eyes.

Yarrow sulked and stared at his drink.

Julienne reached for the mojito. "Can I try yours?"

"Sure."

Pomona had the right of it. The blend was excellent. The lime wasn't overpowering—it wasn't too long ago that Yarrow would avoid using citrus and still leave things tasting acidic. It was refreshing and delicious. But not magical.

"It's good. I think you should keep working on that."

Yarrow forced a tight-lipped smile. "Good's not great. I need to work on my drinks. They're the highest profit-margin item."

Julienne laughed. "Well, we're not pinching coppers. Just focus on flavor and leave the business to my uncle."

"It won't be his business forever."

Julienne took the comment two ways. One day, it'd be his business, not his uncle's. He needed to consider things like margin. He'd have to negotiate rates with large-scale suppliers and pay the salaries of the Chefs and cultivators and researchers. It'd be work all the time. And as long as he could still find the time to cook, he was up for it.

But the other way he took the comment wasn't as pleasant. He thought of Flambé choking and coughing in his carriage and sprawled out on the dining room floor in front of others, no pride or dignity, just a fight to survive another day. He thought of Waldorf—of Grand King Waldorf—blocking the door. Declaring the restaurant as his. Driving Uncle Julienne out. Julienne would not do well in such a scenario.

But Yarrow would.

Would Yarrow shed a tear if Cafe Julienne fell? Or would he just move on without looking back the same way he had done with those burnt up bodies in the valley?

Barley yelped and twitched as an echo hit him. Pomona jumped, but the rest of the class had grown used to it. They even had a routine. First, they'd look at Barley, who would apologize, and then at Yarrow, who wouldn't.

It took a few days, but Julienne finally managed to catch Barley alone one morning. Julienne's stomach acid had given him a fitful sleep, and at first light, he threw in the towel and decided to just wake up. He wasn't sure whether eating would help him or not, but a particularly nasty burp convinced him that he had to try something.

And if he was going to eat, he might as well eat bacon. It wouldn't be good for him, but eating had become such a chore, and he wanted to actually enjoy it for once. He found Barley hunched over a box-fridge in the freezer.

"Good morning," Julienne said.

"Good morning. Don't usually see you up this early."

"Yeah." Julienne rubbed the back of his neck and rolled out his shoulders. "Reflux has been bad recently. So then I have to sleep a certain way, and I can't get comfortable, and then I get sore, and then…yeah."

"Want me to make you something cold?" Barley sat up and pulled his pale blue hands out of the fridge. He smiled and waved his hands. "I'm in the right mindset for it."

"Ha, no thanks." Julienne laughed and sighed. "It sounds good. Cold food. It feels good going down, but it disrupts the stomach. Same with hot food. No, the best thing for me is room temperature food. And plain. I usually have a potato for lunch. Boiled. Plain. It definitely helps, but then I work at the Cafe, and I have to taste everything before it goes out, and we don't really make unseasoned food."

Barley chuckled and stood up to stretch. Julienne rarely stood so close to him, so he forgot how big he was. Barley had several inches on him and probably twice the weight, particularly now that the Khalyan wasn't training anymore. "You could try tsampa. That's pretty plain. I can show you how, just give me another ten minutes or so with this thing."

The sizzle and smell of bacon called out to Julienne, but he couldn't indulge in such self-destructive foods after complaining to Barley. He shouldn't have complained to Barley at all. He had come to offer support, not to vent. Julienne cursed himself for his self-absorption and tried to find a way to steer the conversation back to Barley's wellbeing.

"No, it's okay. Another time, though, absolutely. I'd be interested to try it." Julienne nodded at the fridge. "Did you learn how to do that over the summer?"

"Started learning." Barley shrugged and sat back down cross-legged in front of the metal box. "Still learning. Been at this one for a month. Back then, you wouldn't have wanted to risk keeping meat in it. Pomona was going to put in a new heidrun block, but I asked if I could practice with this one. No shortage of fridges around here. I've gotten it to a good place, but I'm still trying to break through that threshold."

"So you're repairing it?"

"That's right. So to make these, you pull out all the potential chill from the essence of the heidrun milk to freeze it. Over time, it melts due to temperature, but it also melts because some of the essence backslides into potential. It's diminishing returns, but you can repair a good block of heidrun milk two or three times before you need to replace it."

"Huh." Julienne crouched down to look inside the fridge, painfully aware of the frivolity of his achievements in the kitchen. This was real magic. "They teach you to do stuff like this in Khala?"

"If you're good with mint. The Monastery tends to push students toward specializations early. Personally, I like the flexibility here. It's easier to explore who you want to be. Last semester, I thought I wanted to be a fighter. Now, I don't want to ever fight again. This semester, I think I'll become a fridge repairman."

Julienne saw his opportunity to transition the conversation, but he felt guilty for having such an agenda to one of the few conversations he ever got to have with Barley, so he tiptoed around it a bit more. "When you get good, can I get a discount? The Cafe has a few faulty units."

"You can pay me in food." Barley grinned. "Do you guys do buffet tickets?"

"I'm sure we'll have to once Waldorf's in charge." Julienne meant to laugh, but he could only wince. Not only was that possible future too bleak for humor, but he realized he was getting back to his problems when he meant to offer support for Barley's. Even though he was offering support, he couldn't shake the feeling that it was a confrontation. And Julienne hated confrontations.

He decided to just do it. "Hey, Barley, I've been meaning to talk to you."

Barley sat up and closed his mouth, that rare window of talkative amiability coming to a close.

"About your…" Julienne flopped his hand around. The chill of the freezer pierced his skin.

"My echoes?"

"Yeah."

"Don't worry about me, Julienne. It's getting better all the time."

Julienne didn't believe Barley's smile. "I mean, is there anything I can do?"

"No. Really, Julienne, don't worry about me. Others already are. Sutton has been doing research for months. Nori got me in to see the Royal Veratore, even. She helped a bit, but said it was just going to take time to fade away."

Cold seeped into Julienne's bones. He touched the acid scars on his forearm. "Would it help to see her again? If it's a matter of payment, I can always—"

Barley squirmed, his head withdrawing into his shoulders. "It's not that. Actually, she said thinking about it can make it worse, so…"

"Oh, Barley, I'm so sorry. I won't mention it again."

Barley waved Julienne's concerns away. "Don't worry about it. I appreciate you checking on me."

Julienne turned to leave, but a wisp of a question nibbled on the back of his mind. He knew he shouldn't ask—he knew it might hurt Barley—but he had to know. "Why do you think you got it so bad?"

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

A knot of muscle stuck out along Barley's jaw. "You should ask Sutton. He has plenty of theories."

"Do you think it's because Yarrow's a bad person?"

Barley pulled his hands out of the fridge and took a deep breath. "I try not to think about it."

"But it makes sense, right? I mean, it's in the name. Competitive Spirit. What if he doesn't have that? What if he doesn't feel guilty, whether that be about hurting someone or about anything? Wouldn't that factor into it? He doesn't—he didn't care if he hurt you or not, so the magic didn't take all the way. I mean, if—"

"Julienne." Barley looked up, and Julienne saw the beast that Archie had told stories of. "I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Right." Julienne rubbed the back of his neck. Despite the chill that permeated his bones, his palm came away with sweat. "Right. Sorry, Barley."

And then he left without eating anything at all.

Through the clamor of the kitchen, one of Uncle Julienne's Chefs caught everyone's attention as he ran in from the dining room. Julienne was working two skillets, keeping time on the pasta and broth, and lifting the sack of rice up for Mindy, but he still could listen well enough to hear the two key words.

"Out sick."

Uncle Julienne snapped his towel and wiped his forehead. "Julienne! I'm down a Chef. I need one of yours tonight. Sauté station."

Julienne looked around. Mindy was engrossed in a white sauce lasagna while also preparing onion soup. Yarrow was easily half an hour behind on the croissants. They couldn't afford to give one up. They needed two more than they had.

But just as Julienne started to protest, Yarrow wiped his hands clean. "I'll go," he said.

"But the custard isn't even—I'm already at capacity."

"Just forget about it. It's not even a menu item. It's more important that the main pod runs smoothly."

"Yarrow, I—"

"Don't worry about it."

Yarrow hopped away, leaving Julienne waiting for an apology. At least some acknowledgement of guilt. When Yarrow said not to worry, it wasn't like when Barley said it. When Barley said it, he was relieving you of your trouble. When Yarrow said it, he was saying not to bother him with it.

And of course Yarrow would take any opportunity he could get to ingratiate himself with Uncle Julienne. If the spot opened up permanently, he probably wouldn't hesitate for a second. Would he even look Julienne's way once he had secured a better spot for himself? Or would they be strangers?

"Julienne," Mindy said. He turned expecting comfort, but she just nodded at the stove. "That one's burning."

After three hours of cursing and sprinting from station to station and a valiant effort by Mindy, the dinner service ended. Julienne hadn't been much help. Anger spiced every dish he made, leading to mistakes and an unimpressed Uncle Julienne. But apparently Yarrow had done well. Julienne caught the tail end of his uncle's praises and glared as Yarrow took the praise with an unencumbered smile.

Julienne hid his scowl when the rest of the kitchen had cleared out except for Mindy and Yarrow, who approached to help finish cleaning. At least he had the decency to do that much. Short-staffed, Julienne and Mindy had made an absolute mess of their pod, unable to tidy as they went like he usually preferred.

"Good service, wasn't it?" Yarrow asked as he took a sponge to the counter.

Julienne scrubbed his wiry sponge into his skillet and let Mindy's expression do the talking. There was something especially hurtful when Mindy glared at you. A sense of guilt, perhaps, that you could make someone so pretty make such an ugly face.

Yarrow noticed, but he was unphased. "What?"

"You left us high and dry," Mindy complained.

"Uncle Julienne needed help."

No sorry. Had he ever even said the words once in his life? Was it a lack of retrospection or a lack of empathy that made him that way? Julienne pushed harder and harder into the skillet, the scratching of metal on metal underscoring his team's argument.

"We needed help," Mindy countered.

Yarrow scoffed and looked around. "We're not important, Mindy. We're a bunch of amateurs learning on someone else's dime. They matter. Being there—" he pointed at the main pod. "—that matters."

Julienne scrubbed harder.

"Tonight was an opportunity," Yarrow continued. "Not just for me to prove myself, but to be helpful. That's what it's about, Mindy. We get in good with him, we climb the ranks."

"It's about making our guests happy," Mindy hissed. She was one step away from pulling out someone's hair, whether it be hers or Yarrow's. "It's about the food. Not about politicking and leaving your friends to fend for themselves."

"Don't get mad at me because you missed your chance to prove yourself."

"Yarrow, you're such a—Julienne!" Mindy's tone shifted to horror as she covered her mouth. Even Yarrow recoiled when he looked at Julienne.

Julienne looked down at his hand. The wire sponge had dug into his skin and drawn enough blood to leave a little pool in the edge of the skillet. Once he saw it, he felt it. The accumulated, ignored pain hit him all at once, and he pulled his hand back and clutched it.

"Don't panic!" Mindy said as she darted around to another cabinet. "We have gauze, we have gauze, we have…here!"

She wrapped his hand and led him to the sink. "How hard were you scrubbing?"

Julienne pulled away and dipped his hand into a bowl of water, red unfurling in the clear. "I'm fine. Why don't you take a breather outside?"

"But you're hurt and the kitchen's a mess and—"

"Mindy." Julienne took a deep breath and wrapped his hand back up. "Can you give us a minute?"

Mindy looked back and forth from Yarrow to Julienne before finally nodding. "I'll be out on the balcony."

Yarrow picked up a rag and fidgeted with it as Mindy left. Once she had gone, he started. "Are you mad about tonight? Your uncle needed one of us, and you and Mindy were more important to our menu. It would have been worse if you left or if she left."

Julienne walked back to the pod but kept the counter between them.

"I mean, my understanding is that I take orders from him before I take them from you. If that's wrong, tell me."

Julienne looked for remorse in Yarrow's eyes. But if anything, he was just angry at being questioned. Defensive.

"Now, I don't think he should handicap us like that. He should have a back-up Chef that can fill in. But that's not a matter for me to talk about with him. But if you want to, you'll have my support."

Julienne shook his head.

Yarrow shrugged. "I don't know what you want from me, Julienne."

"Don't you feel bad?"

"For tonight? No. I think I did what was best for all of us."

"Not for tonight." Julienne threw his bloody hand up into the air. "For all of it. For any of it."

"What are you talking about?"

Julienne leaned his hands hard on the counter, letting the pain spur him on. "Do you feel bad for anything ever? Do you feel bad for tonight?"

"No, I—"

"Do you feel bad for Barley?"

"No."

"He screams in pain! Every! Day! How do you not feel bad about that?"

"He knew what he was getting into. He assumed the risk."

"He's in agony!"

"I fought him according to the rules. I didn't mean to give him echoes."

"But don't you feel bad all the same?"

"I didn't do anything wrong."

Julienne recoiled. His voice lost its conviction. "You're not…you're not sorry?"

"I wish it hadn't happened to him, but I'm not sorry."

"What about—what about what happened in the valley?"

"Duke Malakoff assumed the risk when he let Chefs participate. He knew the valley could get compromised."

"What?" Julienne clenched his fist, letting blood drip down to the ground. "I'm not talking about the damn truffles, Yarrow! I'm talking about the bodies! The bodies that you burned! I'm talking about this!"

Julienne ripped his sleeve back to reveal the droplet scars from Yarrow's acid, leaving streaks of blood up his arm.

Yarrow didn't break. Julienne's emotion, whether it rose or fell, slipped past him without effect. "They tried to kill you. I don't feel bad about that. Not for a second. I'm proud of it. Again, I didn't do anything wrong. Your arm…that I feel bad about. I wish I had had better control at the time. I'm sorry I hurt you."

"You're—that's what you're sorry for? Are you kidding me? Not the fact that you killed someone? Two someones!"

"Well, you're my friend."

"I'm your—" Julienne spun and paced around the counter with his hands tense and high. "I'm your friend? I don't know if you can have a friend. I don't know if you know what that is."

For the first time that night, Yarrow looked offended. "Of course I know what a friend is! You're my friend, Julienne! You're my best friend."

Julienne laughed, months of pent up anxiety and anger unrolling in the heaving of his breath.

"Julienne, you're my best friend. Please. Please don't kick me off the team."

That just made Julienne laugh harder. "Kick you off the team? That's where your head goes. Of course it is."

And then Yarrow's intensity of emotion leapfrogged Julienne's. He fell to his knees and clasped his hands together. "Please, Julienne! Please let me stay. I'll do better, I promise. I'm your best friend, aren't I?"

"You are broken, Yarrow."

"Please! Don't kick me off. Don't do this to me! I'll fix it! I'll fix myself! I'll—I'll—I'll learn. I'll apologize to Barley. I'll—"

"You don't talk to Barley. You avoid him like the plague."

"Okay. Okay."

"And when someone needs your help, you help them. When you hurt someone, you say sorry."

"Okay!" Yarrow was begging and spitting more than any dog Julienne had ever seen.

"You're still on the team. But you need to think about yourself. Hard."

"I will. I promise."

Julienne shook his head. He would have rather had Yarrow stand his ground. The sight of his pathetic begging would scar him like the drops on his forearm. "Go home, Yarrow."

"Are you sure? I can—I can help clean. I can do it all!"

"Yarrow. You need to give me some space."

"Oh, okay." Yarrow stood, his arms trembling. "I'm sorry, Julienne," he said at last before leaving.

Just before Yarrow reached the door, Julienne called out to him. "Yarrow."

"Yes?"

"You are my friend. Okay?"

Yarrow sniffled and nodded. "I'll do whatever I have to to keep it that way."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Julienne. And thank you. And sorry."

The next day, Julienne found Archie just inside the forest by following the smell of mint. He snuck on Archie, who was too focused throwing himself around the trees with his noodles and blowing minty fog out each time he landed.

"That's a neat trick," Julienne called out, making Archie jump and nearly lose his footing on a branch ten feet off the ground.

"Oh! You scared me." Archie wrapped a noodle around the branch and slowly let himself down to the ground. "I'm trying to work on my mobility. Sugarskin doesn't do much against acid. I'll have to dodge."

"You versus Yarrow." Julienne clicked his tongue. "You nervous?"

Archie laughed. "I'm scared shitless. Got any tips?"

"Don't get hit."

"Yeah, that's a good one." Archie wiped sweat from his brow and took a deep breath. "Really, though. I am nervous. Like, I don't know what to do with myself. I've been a mess. I love a good fight, but you know, with what happened to Barley, and—"

"Yeah."

"Yeah." Archie twisted his foot in the dirt before perking back up. "So what's up?"

"Well, I was actually hoping to get a tip from you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I…I've been neglecting my conjuration a bit too much to know where to start now, but I was hoping you could teach me some pastamancy."

"Ooooh, I get it. You wanna swing on the trees like me."

"No," Julienne laughed. "No, I don't like heights. I was actually hoping you could teach me…how to restrain someone. Like, pin their arms."

"Want me to beat someone up for you?"

"No, no, nothing like that. I just…want to be able to protect myself. And others."

"Sure. I can, uh…"

A branch cracked behind Julienne. He turned to see Blanche slinking around a tree.

"Sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to scare you. Um, Archie, I was hoping we could talk?"

Julienne's eyes widened as he slowly backed himself out of a conversation that he had no business being in. "Tomorrow, Archie?"

Archie's face held a confused smile as he regarded Blanche. "Yeah. Tomorrow."

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