“Lemon curd.”

“Pappardelle.”

“What even is that?”

“It’s pasta! It’s like a wide fettuccine.”

“Lemon curd.”

“Come on, Nori. I want to practice pasta. You know, for bandages and whatnot.”

“And I want to practice lemon. You know, for burning flesh and whatnot.”

Archie sighed. He had never won an argument once Nori took that tone. He looked up at the waiting class, then leaned back in to continue whispering.

“How about a lemon pasta?” he suggested.

“Lemon curd.”

“But—”

“Remember how you made the whole class laugh at me?”

“I…fine.”

Nori looked up at Pomona and announced their decision. “Lemon curd.”

“Alright everyone, we’re making lemon curd!” Pomona announced. “That’s a good one. Hyssop, grab a few dozen eggs from the fridge for everyone. Blanche, can you help me pick some lemons?”

“Of course!” Blanche replied.

“Why do I have to get them…” Hyssop muttered.

“Okay, Blanche and I will be back up in just a bit. When we get back, we’ll get started on some lemon curds! Let’s double up on the stoves and get friendly. Everyone grab a new partner and be ready with lots of sugar!”

Pomona didn’t stick around to watch the commotion she had caused by demanding a partner switch. Second choices got their time to shine—Oliver swooped up Cress, Benedict settled for Barley, and Mindy made her move toward Julienne.

But Nori got there first.

She had wasted no time and spared no last glance at Archie as she strode over to claim her place next to Julienne. A pit formed in Archie’s stomach. Occasionally, a brief romantic thought crossed his mind, but he always quelled it for fear of the fallout. Better to have the status quo and a best friend than an awkward relationship with a coworker.

But seeing Nori next to the threateningly beautiful Julienne made his heart race.

It took Archie a moment to think of anything else—and a moment was too long to waste in the scramble of partnering up. If he didn’t act fast, he’d be stuck with Hyssop and her Hyssie fits. He saw Benedict take Barley and saw his opening.

“Hey, Akando,” he said. “Wanna cook together?”

“Sure.”

Akando always did things with a steady rhythm. He spoke evenly, he acted evenly, every expression controlled, and even just walking over to Archie, his long black hair bounced off his back in perfect synchronization with his steps. His hair was longer than any of the girls, and perhaps more well-maintained—although Archie wouldn’t be surprised if Cress could uncoil her hair to three times its length.

“Congratulations on winning,” Akando said in his standard monotone voice. “The berry,” he added when Archie looked back with confusion.

“Oh. Thanks.”

If any other classmate had said congratulations with that tone, Archie would have taken it for sarcasm. But he knew Akando only dealt in genuineness and sincerity.

“This’ll be good,” Pomona said once the class got settled. “One of the best ways to learn how to cook with essence is with a recipe that requires frequent stirring. Gives you several chances to manipulate the dish. As a matter-of-fact, these kinds of recipes are usually what we test you on as first-years.”

Pomona all but winked, and Archie made a mental note of that. Exams were still six months away, but it was never too early to prepare.

“So the way I’ve always made lemon curd is with a double boiler method,” Pomona continued. “You don’t want direct heat. Did Head Chef Colby show you all how to make a double boiler?”

The class erupted into an affirmative chorus. Whereas no one had wanted Colby’s attention, everyone spoke up in a bid for Pomona’s.

“Okay, each of you get started with that. Help your partner if they need it.”

Archie filled two pots with an inch of water as Akando added wood to the stove.

“Now while the water comes to a boil, let’s put our ingredients together. Feel the essence of each ingredient as you add it,” Pomona said. “But don’t try to manipulate it yet. Just get comfortable with it.”

They cracked eggs into glass bowls, adding sugar, salt, lemon zest, and lemon juice. Archie made of note of each ingredient’s essence, none more so than the lemon. He figured that as the key ingredient, the lemon’s essence would be the most important.

“Alright, now the fun part,” Pomona said. “Once your water is boiling, place your glass bowls over the pot, reduce that boil to a simmer, and then get whisking. We’ll whisk for ten minutes.”

The class lowered their glass bowls over the pot, trapping steam that heated the bowl.

“But, this is the test…I want you to extend your essence through the whisk and into the ingredients. Because while you are cooking their physical qualities together, you’ll unlock a new level of flavor by also blending their essences appropriately.

“Just as you stir with your whisk, you must stir with your essence. Feel each ingredient. Open it up so that it may mix its essence with the others. It won’t be easy. You’ll have to keep track of all of these different essences and mesh them together until they become one. But it’s worth it.”

While they hadn’t worked with essence much in Colby’s class, Archie had already developed a good awareness of his essence. At first, it had felt like a foreign power flowing through his body. Now, it felt like a natural part of him.

He extended his essence through the whisk. He could feel the ingredients touch the thick metal wire as if they touched his fingertips. The essence of egg and sugar and lemon and salt, all unique, sensitively brushed his essence. He remembered how they felt before he put them all together in the same bowl, taking a minute to recognize each ingredient in the mixture.

He tried to probe into the ingredients one at a time. The lemon juice demanded his attention, its essence louder and more active than those of the more ingredients. He pushed his essence through the whisk and into the lemon juice like a tendril, merging it with the juice’s essence.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

The tendril splintered, latching onto any lemon zest it came across. Merging juice and zest was easy like bringing two separated soulmates back together. But when Archie tried to create a new branch from his essence to bind the other ingredients, it all fell apart. His essence lost its hold, the lemon’s essence sliding off without friction.

“Hm,” Archie grunted. He hadn’t started stirring yet, having wanted to grab hold of all the essence before complicating the process with movement.

Archie tried again, but lost his focus even earlier. His leg itched.

He looked around the room, judging others' success based on their expressions.

Julienne and Nori chatted and whisked without care. That didn’t surprise Archie—as much as he might hate to admit it, they were the two most talented cooks. But it did upset him.

Sutton whisked, but the frown on his face signaled his lack of success blending essences.

A bowl shattered at the front of the class. A couple of girls screamed. Archie’s head whipped around to the sound. Yarrow held his hands up and away from the shattered glass. He had turned the mixture into something so acidic that the glass had broken.

Once things settled down, Archie noticed the constant whisk-whisk-whisk coming from right next to him. Akando wore a slight smile of confidence, unbothered by the commotion as he whisked away.

Archie didn’t need to ask to know that Akando was doing it right.

And Archie didn’t have to ask how for Akando to answer.

“Takuskanskan,” Akando said.

“What?”

“It means the mysterious power of motion. In Kuutsu Nuna, we believe that with proper spirit of motion, you can create a spirit from motion. It is Takuskanskan that creates a path for my essence to flow through.”

Akando stirred as he spoke, his syllables falling in rhythm with the scratching of his whisk.

“Bind your magic to the motion, then as long as you maintain that motion, the way will be clear. Then you can extend your focus. I hope you can understand that.”

Archie put his essence into the whisk and focused on the motion. Once around. Twice around. Three times. He equalized the tempo of each revolution and extended his essence into the whisk. The essence in the ingredients bristled, going to him rather than the other way around.

They spoke to Archie, telling him to go faster. Archie sped up just a hair and felt the way open up. While maintaining perfect rhythm, Archie’s essence connected to each ingredient. With the rhythm of the motion ingrained in him, he invited the ingredients to mingle. They exchanged their essences, blending their flavors into something greater than the sum of their parts.

“I’m doing it,” Archie said with a proud laugh.

Akando looked at Archie thoughtfully. “You should visit Kuutsu Nuna. You’re a natural learner. And we have much to teach. You could follow the Kuutsu over the summer. Then we’d consider you a man.”

Akando pursed his lips to keep a laugh inside.

“It sounds interesting. Maybe,” Archie said. “Thanks for the help.”

The possibility sounded more than interesting. Walking across the country. Seeing the world. Eating and playing music by the campfire. Sleeping in tents. Following the Kuutsu. Watching giant birds fly across the desert. Learning how to grill and barbecue from the best in the world. Akando and Cress could be his guides. Maybe even Nori would come along. And he wouldn’t have to worry about Julienne coming. Hard for a demigod prince to drop everything to go backpacking for the summer.

But Archie had plans for next summer dating back to when he was a kid. Archie, finally a Chef, bringing his considerable talent and flair back to Petrichor. The people in Ambrosia City whispering of a comeback. The stableboys in Ambrosia City wondering why so many people were leaving to visit Sain. The resurgence of the name Kent.

He thought back to the crystal ball he had opened on his twelfth birthday. Whether his vision had been a dream or destiny, he wanted to turn it into a reality. Traveling the world would have to wait until the next life.

Once the mixture was sufficiently stirred, they added butter and set it aside to cool and thicken. Archie dipped his pinky into his still-molten lemon curd and tasted it. He had never made lemon curd before, but he knew it didn’t normally taste this good. The manipulated essence had enhanced the flavor. It was great—but he wanted it to be better. Fortunately, he’d have that chance.

“Okay, class,” Pomona said. “While these cool, go ahead and take lunch. Eat something good and get your energy back up, because then we’re meeting back up to make lemon curd again. Let’s see if we can really nail this technique.”

In the kitchen next door, Colby had fourth-years making ramen from scratch, and while their first batch was far below Colby’s standards, the first-years were happy to take it off their hands.

They filled their bowls and spread out across the lower building of the Academy to eat. Some of the girls ate with Pomona in her kitchen. Blanche spilled half of her broth on her way down to the greenhouse, having spent the latter half of the morning worried that the unusually hot fall day would dry out her cucumbers. Julienne never made it out of Colby’s kitchen, eating his ramen as he watched and learned alongside Yarrow and Mindy. Sutton ate while reading, cursing when he slurped up a noodle that flung broth onto his papers.

Archie walked past his usual spot at one of the tables, walking out onto the balcony. He sat with his bowl in his lap, looking out onto the horizon. The balcony faced northeast toward Sain and Khala, but he imagined it facing northwest toward Kuutsu Nuna.

His mind took him beyond the mountains, crossing the narrow sliver of sea that separated Kuutsu Nuna and Labrusca. He rode on horseback through the swamps—carriages would sink in the mud. It was hot and humid and sunny and miserable but everyone was so happy, bellies full of crawfish and fried okra.

He went north to escape the swamp, picking up the trail of the Kuutsu. He ate eastern barbecue consisting of burnt ends of Kuutsu meat and smoked whole hogs slathered in mustard. He followed the Kuutsu west. It would just be a month until he got to try western barbecue with its Kuutsu brisket and sausage cooked on the highest heats.

He had heard that Kuutsu Nuna stayed as neutral as it could in any interkingdom matters, but that a cultural war raged year-round in Kuutsu Nuna. Saying you liked one type of barbecue over another in the wrong place was as dangerous as wandering alone in the desert with a thunderbird looming overhead.

He looped up even farther north, going to the icy lands where they hunted whales and—

“Guess what?” Nori asked.

Archie snapped out of his daydream. Nori stood, empty-handed, blocking his view as she hunched over him. She shook with anticipation.

“Where’s your ramen?” Archie asked.

Nori let out a frustrated groan before speaking a mile a minute, the words spilling out of her mouth.

“That ramen? No. No, no. Look, we have some great Chefs here, but I’m not about to start eating their ramen. You kidding? It’d be the worst I’ve ever had. Now, guess what?”

Archie hadn’t even gotten halfway to matching her excitement. Some part of him was still in some distant Kuutsu Nunan kitchen learning how to turn whale fat into lantern oil. He looked around Nori as if he might spot his other part wandering around and recover from the hangover of his daydream. “What?”

“I’m going to cook at Cafe Julienne.”

The words were cold water splashed onto Archie’s face. He snapped up in his seat, nearly spilling his ramen. “What?!”

“Yeah! Just for his birthday thing. He said he needed help, so…yeah!” Nori raised his fists up to her shoulders and tensed her body in excitement.

Shock kept Archie silent.

“Okay, I have to go find something to eat,” Nori said. “I just wanted to tell someone! Okay, bye!”

Nori dashed off before Archie could react.

Cafe Julienne.

Perhaps the best restaurant in the world.

Archie thought of all the opportunities that would come from cooking at Cafe Julienne even once. What it would mean for a Kent to cook at such a reputable establishment. What he could learn. The doors it would open. It would be the turning point in achieving his greatest desire.

But he wasn’t going to cook at Cafe Julienne.

Nori was.

Archie felt a pit in his stomach. Jealousy had reared its head when he had seen Nori and Julienne flirting. But this was something else. Something far worse. Something untenable. This was pure, vehement envy. This wasn’t about romance. This was about something far more important. His dream. His destiny.

He imagined a horrible trajectory of Nori’s future. She would become famous. Esteemed. Revered. She would climb the ranks, never wearing the same color jacket for long. Ten, twenty years from now, people would look back and talk about how crazy it was that the world famous Chefs Julienne and Nori had come up in the same class together.

And Archie would be a footnote. Another forgettable Kent.

It wasn’t his opportunity.

It was Nori’s.

And he’d be left behind.

Archie sat in silence, not eating, just processing, until someone yelled to him that Pomona’s class was starting again. He wandered through the lounge like a zombie, setting down his ramen and continuing into Pomona’s kitchen.

Something terrible brewed inside of him.