Rainbow centaur flew low over the meadow, her colorful wings beating fast, a rainbow bat gripped in one hand. Below her, a giant Venus fly trap held a tiny fairy baby inside its snapping green mouth. The baby wailed. Rainbow centaur laughed, because she loved a good rescue almost as much as she loved plotting war against Marina. She folded her wings and dove. Her fluffy firefly pet buzzed beside her, its rainbow wings flashing a warning glow. "Hold on, little one!" she called. She swung the bat hard. The bat cracked against the plant's thick stem. The Venus trap shuddered. Its jaws sprang open. The fairy baby tumbled out, dropping through the air. Rainbow centaur lunged and caught the baby in both arms before the ground could. The baby stopped crying. It grabbed a strand of her long hair and giggled. Rainbow centaur giggled back. "There. Safe now." But the rescue had a price. The plant she hit was not alone. A whole patch of fly traps hissed around her, angry now, snapping at her legs. A fluffy horse trotted out from behind the traps, round and soft as a stuffed bear. It nudged a path clear with its wide chest, crushing stems under its hooves. Rainbow centaur followed it out, the baby held tight. "Good boy," she said. "You know a way." The horse led her toward a grand mansion at the meadow's edge. Its walls looked like chocolate. Strawberry shapes decorated the windows. A radiant winged lion with a rainbow mane stood on the front steps, tall and proud. Behind him, small winged shapes flew out the door. The fairy's family had come looking for their baby. The fairies swarmed her, then saw the baby safe. Their fear turned to joy. The winged lion dipped his head. A fairy pressed her tiny hands together and spoke. "You saved our child. Come inside. Eat with us." Rainbow centaur handed the baby back to its mother. Warm smells drifted from the open door. She grinned. This was better than she had planned. A meal, a family, and a room full of grateful fairies. Fairies who might help her. "I would love lunch," she said. Then her grin sharpened. "And while we cook, I have an idea. There is someone I want to talk about. Her name is Marina." The fairy mother's smile faltered. Rainbow centaur stepped through the chocolate door, the winged lion at her side, and the plan she had carried for weeks finally had a table to sit at.

Rainbow centaur followed the fairy mother into the kitchen. Everything shone brown and sweet. The counters were fudge. The pots were hollow chocolate shells. Bowls of strawberries and cocoa lined the walls. She pulled open a cupboard, then another. Sugar. Frosting. More cocoa. She frowned. "There is no salt here," she said. "No vegetables. No meat. I cannot cook lunch from candy alone." The fairies hovered near the door, their small faces sinking. The baby whimpered, hungry. Her firefly pet buzzed at the window and flashed its rainbow tail. It pressed against the glass and glowed brighter, again and again. Rainbow centaur stepped over and looked out. A cluster of trees stood beyond the mansion. Their leaves burned every color. Fat purple fruit hung from twisted trunks. Round bushes sat below, puffy and pale as bread. Her firefly darted in a circle, urging her outside. "Good idea," she said. She flew out the chocolate door. The fluffy horse trotted after her, hooves soft on the grass. She reached the strange trees and plucked a purple fruit. She bit it. Sharp and green, not sweet. Real food. She tore off a marshmallow bush and squeezed it. It held together like a warm loaf. "This will fill their bellies," she said. The horse nudged a low branch down so she could reach the highest fruit. She filled the horse's fluffy back with fruit and bushes and flew home fast. In the chocolate kitchen she worked quick. She sliced the purple fruit into a cold chocolate pot. She stuffed the marshmallow bread with berries. She squeezed juice from the fruit into cups. The fairies drifted closer, sniffing. The baby stopped whimpering. Rainbow centaur set the food on the fudge table. "Eat," she said. The fairies swarmed the plates. They laughed. The baby stuffed its whole face into a berry. Rainbow centaur watched them eat and grinned. Full bellies meant grateful hearts. Grateful hearts meant allies against Marina. "Now you owe me nothing," she said. "But I still need your help." The fairy mother wiped juice from her chin and nodded slowly. Then a shadow crossed the strawberry window. A rainbow-maned lion outside lifted his head and roared once. Wings beat the air. A centaur landed on the front steps. His coat blazed purple and orange, his mane every color at once, gold stars stitched down his chest. He was handsome, and he looked angry. He pushed through the chocolate door. The fairies froze. "Prince Aurelius Prismahorn," the fairy mother whispered. She dropped her berry. He stared at the empty grove through the window, then at the stripped branches piled on the horse's back. "You took fruit from my grove," he said. His eyes fixed on Rainbow centaur. "That grove belongs to the crown. And you fed it to rebels who plot against Marina." He stepped closer. "Marina is my ally." The kitchen went silent. Rainbow centaur's grin faded. Her allies had just made her a thief and an enemy in one meal.

Rainbow centaur held up both hands. The prince stood in the chocolate doorway, his tail lashing. "Your highness, we meant no disrespect," she said. "I never knew the grove was yours. We were hungry." She kept her voice soft and low. Behind her, the fairies pressed against the fudge wall. The baby hid its face. "Let me make it right. Let my fairy friends help me cook you a meal. We will pay back every fruit we took." The prince crossed his arms. "A meal cannot un-steal what you stole." His eyes swept the stripped branches on the horse's back. "You fed thieves. You are a thief." A new voice cut in from the doorway. "Ah, but who among us has not stolen a little fruit?" A man stepped past the prince into the kitchen. He walked upright on two legs, no hooves, no wings. His white shirt was rolled at the sleeves. Dark hair hung to his shoulders, and his blue eyes moved over the food on the table. He smiled like he already owned the room. The fairy mother gasped. She darted forward and clutched Rainbow centaur's arm. "He cooks for the prince," she whispered. "He decides what touches the royal mouth." Sylvain fournier bent over the fudge table. He lifted a slice of purple fruit and sniffed it. He tore a piece of the marshmallow bread and chewed slow. His eyebrows went up. "This is the grove fruit," he said. "Nobody cooks it right. It goes bitter." He tasted the berry stuffing next. He closed his eyes. "But this is not bitter. This is good." Rainbow centaur stepped closer. "I can teach you. I can cook it for the prince myself, tonight. Fresh. Let me earn back the trust I broke." Sylvain turned to the prince. "Highness, kill her and you lose the only cook in Narnia who knows this fruit. Keep her, and your table changes forever." He licked juice from his thumb. "I would keep her." The prince stared a long time. His tail went still. "One meal," he said. "You cook for me at the manor. If it pleases me, the theft is forgiven. If it fails, you answer to Marina herself." He turned and pushed through the chocolate door. His winged lion roared outside. Rainbow centaur let out her breath. The fairies swarmed around her, buzzing. She had bought her way out of death with a promise to cook. But now she had traded a small hidden fight against Marina for a seat inside Marina's own house. Sylvain lingered at the door and looked back at her. "Come, cook," he said. "You have a prince to feed. And I think you have more plans than fruit." His blue eyes held hers. He knew. Rainbow centaur gathered the last marshmallow bread and followed him out, her mind already turning. Inside the enemy's kitchen, she would find her war.