Chapter 8

Another falcon screeched above. The palace must be waking up. The skies would soon be filled with winged messengers. Did one of them carry the recipe for gelato? Henri looked above, even if he could bring one of the falcons down with an arrow, he didn’t know enough Italian to tell the difference between an Italian recipe and an Italian assassination plot. He wasn’t going to shit himself and run crying like that poor Alix. And in fact, Alix had been banished from their kitchens too. Reassigned to the very kitchens of the toadess’ Italians. Henri smiled. A friendship with the chocolatier. That is what he needed to do. However, something hissed through his head, quickly cooling his excitement like a piece of wet wood.

Alix the Chocolatier.