“Sit, Archie,” his mother said. “I made you spaghetti.”

  Archie looked around in confusion. He wasn’t in Prince Waldorf’s kitchen. He was in some nebulous place without walls or even a floor. There was just him, Adelaide, and a plate of spaghetti sitting on a table. As he focused, the room built itself around him. A counter here. A spice rack there. A little refrigerator. Wooden floorboards that curled up at the ends.

  He was in Petrichor.

  “I don’t…” Archie scratched his head. It hurt so much. “I don’t understand.”

  “You don’t have to understand,” his mother said, soothing him with a gentle touch to the shoulder. “But you do have to eat. Your dad has a lot of work planned for you.”

  Archie’s torment slipped away like a drop in a stream. His eyes widened. He sat up. He smiled. “Where is he?” he asked with excitement.

  “He’s waiting for you. We’re all waiting for you, Archie. We all know what you can be.”

  An undercurrent of anxiety worked its way through Archie. He couldn’t make sense of anything. He could only feel. “But I’m stuck.”

  Adelaide shrugged. “You’ll figure it out. Come on, eat.”

  Archie wanted to embrace the dream. He wanted to live in it forever. He knew a horrible world waited for him outside of it. But he knew he couldn’t. If he didn’t fix things, it wasn’t just his fate at stake.

  “I have a plan,” he said.

  “Good. Don’t forget it.”

  “I’m dreaming.”

  “Maybe. Dreams are a funny thing.”

  “But it feels so real.”

  “Reality is a funny thing.”

  “Why are you here?”

  Adelaide laughed. “Oh, Archie. All the times I’ve taken care of you. All the times I’ve cooked for you. I’m always here. Look, Nori’s here too.”

  Where once there had been no one, Nori appeared, stirring a pot over the stove. She smiled at Archie, but he couldn’t smile back. He could only worry.

  “Are you making kulkida risotto?” he asked. He felt guilty. It had drained the life out of her. Made her miserable. It was his fault.

  “No, silly,” Nori laughed. Her smile illuminated the room. “I’m making pancakes. With a blueberry syrup. You’re the one making the risotto.”

  Archie recoiled in confusion. He looked down at his plate of spaghetti, but it had transformed into a pot of rice.

  “I can’t make this,” he said. Fear gripped his heart. He couldn’t make it. He couldn’t risk an episode. “You know what will happen. If I try to make kulkida risotto, something terrible will happen. I’ll ruin it. I might…I might even ruin myself.”

  Nori shrugged. “Maybe not.”

  “We’ll help,” Adelaide added.

  “But you have to try,” Nori said.

  “Why?” Archie asked.

  Nori let the blueberry syrup drip from her spatula back into the pot. “Because that’s your plan, right?”

  The clink of the chain woke Archie. The sound made him flinch, which made the chain louder, which made him flinch more. But he was alone. Just moving in his sleep.

  “Where…”

  For a brief moment of blissful confusion, Archie forgot where he was. Then he remembered. He looked for any indication of time—a window or a clock—but only found the ever-burning lanterns adorning the walls. What time was it? Had he slept through the night? Two nights? An hour?

  Footsteps. He whipped around to look at the door, waiting for it to open and Prince Waldorf to emerge. The footsteps got closer. Closer. And then Archie heard a chair protest as someone sat in it, the wood creaking.

  Archie looked around. The chocolate brittle was gone. What would Prince Waldorf do if he came in to an empty serving tray? Archie had to make something. And fast.

  He moved quietly at first, trying not to draw attention to himself. He picked up the chain as he walked to prevent it from scraping against the floor. He considered the items in the fridge, looking for something quick and easy to move. He settled on goat cheese and peaches.

  His hand howled with pain when he gripped the refrigerator door. The cut on his forefinger had bled through his bandage and soaked his skin with blood all the way past his wrist. He looked back at where he had fallen asleep. A small puddle of blood remained. He’d have to clean that in case it might invoke more of the Glutton’s wrath.

  He cut eight peaches into slices and wedged them into sections of goat cheese. He hoped that splitting it into so many pieces might occupy Prince Waldorf a little longer. He set the tray near the door and looked at the bell rope.

  Should I pull it? No. No, this won’t be enough for him. This might keep him from beating me, but it won’t satisfy him. I need to make more.

  The rope would remain unpulled. He needed more time. The longer Prince Waldorf went without entering the kitchen, the better.

  Maybe if I make enough he’ll let me go? Will he ever let me go?”

  Archie remembered what Prince Waldorf had said to Mr. Ackers.

  If you weren’t one of us, you’d never see sunlight again. You’d live in the dungeon for the rest of your days.

  No, Archie would not be released. He’d have to escape. The plan! He had a plan!

  But first, more food. A solid blow to the head might make him forget too much. He needed to placate Prince Waldorf. Make him listen. Make him malleable.

  Archie found a big ball of dough in the fridge and started kneading it. The process calmed him. It reminded him of cooking with Nori.

  That experience came in handy. He couldn’t afford to wait for the dough to rise, but that was a challenge he had already learned to overcome. He felt the dough, finding its essence, and added his own. In seconds, the dough doubled in size.

  He made the bread and served it with a charcuterie board of cheeses, grapes, and thinly sliced dried meats. He looked at the assortment and sighed. It wouldn’t be enough. He knew that much. But the longer he waited, the more risk everyone else would be put in.

  Archie pulled the bell rope.

  The chair creaked and groaned. Footsteps approached. The door opened.

  “Oh, good,” Prince Waldorf said. “I thought you might have died.”

  He took a handful of grapes and ate them all at once, stems and all. “I had a visitor,” he said. “Your lovely Headmaster Aubergine.” He scooped the meats up, balled them into a fist, and tossed them in his mouth. “He had the gall to accuse me of imprisoning you. As if I would ever do such a thing.”

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  He chuckled to himself as he smeared the entire loaf of bread across the cheese, tearing away half of the loaf in one bite. “The fool thinks he can speak to me as a peer. But don’t worry, little Archie. I have a plan for him. I have a plan for the Academy, too.”

  He swallowed the rest of the bread. Archie’s voice caught in his throat.

  Prince Waldorf scratched any residuals off the wooden board. “Once my father is out of the way, I’ll rebuild this kingdom. The Academy included.” He licked the crumbs from under his fingernails, scraping his teeth to get every last taste. “It’ll be soon. Sooner than you think.”

  The horrible thought just piled onto Archie’s terror, breaking him down. His plan wouldn’t work. Nothing would work. This was it. Nothing could stop Prince Waldorf from doing what he wanted.

  “My father will be getting back next week.” Prince Waldorf looked at Archie with disappointment and sighed. “I’ll have to get rid of you before then. It’s a shame, you really have such talent.”

  Archie couldn’t breathe. There was something in the air. It radiated from the Glutton like a rancid perfume, choking him.

  Prince Waldorf tilted his head to the side and smiled with the revelation of a brilliant idea. “No, no. You don’t have to go to waste.” He looked into Archie’s eyes. “I have a friend in Labrusca who would very much like your company. He’ll be having a wedding soon. You can be the gift. And then I could come visit you whenever I wanted. You and all the others. It’d be my perfect life. Just like how my wretched father flees the city every year to go live out some idealized life in those damned islands.”

  His demeanor shifted as he spoke, his teeth grinding together and a growl permeating through his words. “I have plans for them, too.”

  Plans, plans. I have a plan. I have a plan. What was it? My dream. My mother.

  “And what about your parents, little Archie?” Prince Waldorf asked as he leaned forward. It was as if he could read Archie’s mind. “I’ve never been to Petrichor. I’ll have to pay them a visit when I’m done with you.”

  The horrifying thought of Prince Waldorf in Petrichor provided the last push Archie needed. He swallowed his fear. He couldn’t be a coward. Not if he wanted to save the people he cared about.

  “I’ll make you kulkida risotto,” he said.

  Prince Waldorf straightened up, his expression neutralized as he stared at Archie. He took a deep breath, deciding whether to kill Archie then and there or agree to the offer.

  “You didn’t get to have any,” Archie said. Now that his wildcard was in play, he found a strange confidence. At this point, he had already stuck his neck out. Retreating wouldn’t do anything. “Not really. Just a little taste. Don’t you want the real thing? How long has it been?”

  Prince Waldorf’s breathing accelerated. His chest rose and fell several feet at a time, his fist digging into the counter as he used it for support. He dug through his pockets for a vial of moondrop wine, and while it settled his bones, it did little to settle the rage building up inside the man.

  “I killed the last man that made me kulkida risotto.”

  “And you’ll do anything to have it again, won’t you?”

  Prince Waldorf grinded his teeth. “I won’t free you.”

  “Then let the punishment end with me.”

  Silence. Then, laughter. “So there was someone else, wasn’t there?”

  “No. It was just me. Why would Lord Rathbond lie?” Archie adjusted his feet, stood up as tall as he could, and did his best impression of Nori.

  “I’m a Kent. A family of White Jackets. You think I was happy shoveling stew in the Roots? No. Kents are better than that. My cooking should only be eaten by those who deserve it. My family feeds those who shape the world. This might be the end for me, but my reputation will live on. I don’t want my glory to be falsely shared. I made the kulkida risotto. Me. I didn’t need help. I didn’t want help. I did it alone, and I managed to do it as an Orange Jacket. Punishing anyone else will just dilute my achievement.”

  The gambit paid off.

  Prince Waldorf roared with laughter. “I had heard you were legacy-obsessed, but I had no idea it was to this extent.” He shook his head in appreciation of Archie’s fire. “The Kents. A family of White Jackets, yes. And a family of Gluttons.”

  Archie’s resolve cracked.

  “You don’t think it was just your grandfather, do you? No, no, that’s been the way of the Kents for a long time. Going back to Ambrosia. The Kents have always been great Chefs or great Gluttons with few inbetween. Who knows, somewhere along the way, we might have a common ancestor.”

  Archie couldn’t hide his disdain. His lips peeled back in anger as he took ragged, bestial breaths.

  That just made Prince Waldorf laugh harder. Slowly, his laughter settled, first into an out-of-breath giggle, then into a more sinister chuckle.

  “Alright, little Archie. Make me kulkida risotto. Do it well, and I won’t sell you off as a slave. I’ll kill you quick. Not painless, but quick.” He stepped in front of Archie, towering over him. “But if it’s not perfect, I’ll kill everyone you love.”

  Archie pressed his lips together so that they wouldn’t quiver. He nodded. “I have a stash of kulkida rice hidden away. You’ll have to send one of your guards to get it.”

  Prince Waldorf leaned back and sucked on a tooth. “Tell me. I’ll get it.”

  Archie swallowed hard. Some survival instinct told him to make a joke of things. Somehow, he managed. “It’s hidden in an attic,” he said with a sly grin. “You wouldn’t fit through the trapdoor.”

  Prince Waldorf laughed. “Very well. I’ll fetch a guard and you’ll tell him where to go.” He turned to leave.

  The first part of the plan was almost complete. Almost.

  “It can’t be a Chef,” Archie said, stopping Prince Waldorf in his tracks.

  “Why’s that?”

  “Kulkida rice absorbs essence from those around it,” Archie lied. It was an important lie. Everything about the plan depended on Prince Waldorf believing it. “And kulkida rice can only accept essence from one person. If another Chef handles it, I won’t be able to make the risotto.”

  Prince Waldorf scratched at one of his chins, the pouch of fat wiggling away from his fingers. “All my guards are Chefs. I’ll send a servant.”

  Archie scoffed. “You know, I worked here last semester. Washing dishes. I got to see your servants. You know how much that rice is worth? No offense, but I wouldn’t trust them with something like this.”

  Prince Waldorf took another step into the kitchen, peering into Archie’s eyes. Archie molded his feigned confidence into a cold, hard stare. Prince Waldorf bought it.

  “You know, little Archie, you have a keen eye for worthlessness. It’s a shame this will be the end for you. We would have welcomed you.” Prince Waldorf scoffed back and looked to the ceiling as he considered. “Well, if not one of my servants…”

  “Isn’t there a normal guard at the keep?” Archie asked, doing his best to seem as if he were unsure. “At the front, right? I’ve seen one.”

  Prince Waldorf chuckled and rested a hand on Archie’s shoulder. He squeezed, and even though it seemed almost out of friendliness, the pressure threatened to pop Archie’s collarbone. “Yes, that’s right. My father’s pet. He thinks those people still serve a purpose in this world. When I rule, it’ll be a world just for people like me and you.”

  The Glutton flicked the collar of Archie’s orange jacket as he let go.

  “Although I suppose the unexceptional guard still has at least one use. I’ll bring him here. Make me something heavy while you wait. Something meaty. ”

  The instant that the door closed behind Prince Waldorf, Archie collapsed to the ground. He let himself panic. He let his breath go. He gave in to all of the fear and torment he had been staving off.

  And then he got up. He hobbled to the pantry, one of his legs covered in a nasty yellow bruise, the other bleeding from the shackle. He couldn’t wipe the grime from his face—his hands were already covered in blood. But he soldiered on. For the first time since his imprisonment, he truly thought he might escape. He just had to power through.

  He decided to roast chicken—perhaps he had Chrysanth on the mind. Chrysanth, the guard that had given Archie so much grief. Chrysanth, the man that just needed a break and a little respect from a world that had given him no quarter.

  The guard arrived as Archie plated the chicken.

  Archie tried to hide his wounds. A strong reaction from Chrysanth would ruin the plan.

  Luckily, Chrysanth was in such shock that he couldn’t speak.

  “He’ll tell you where to get it,” Prince Waldorf told the guard. “If you don’t bring all of it back, it’ll be your family.”

  The Glutton snatched the tray of chicken and returned to his grand chair and table.

  Chrysanth stepped into the kitchen, speaking quietly so that Prince Waldorf wouldn’t hear. “Ar—” he started, perhaps starting to say Archie’s name before realizing the potential consequences of such a blunder. He leaned in even closer and whispered. “Are you okay?”

  If time weren’t of the essence, the question would have made the bleeding, bruised, and battered Archie laugh.

  Archie let his voice ring out so that Prince Waldorf might hear. “You’ll need to go to the Academy. One of the pantries. There’s a hook on a stick that you can use.”

  Satisfied that Prince Waldorf’s suspicions had gone, Archie turned and gestured as if giving directions with his hands. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Will you help me get out?”

  “Of course,” Chrysanth said without hesitation.

  “Nori. The little Harper girl. Find her. Tell her to give you a pound of the rice and whatever’s left of the noodle. Tell her that Julienne needs to get Waldorf a reservation. For…is it morning right now?”

  “Nearly sundown.”

  “For tomorrow night, then. A reservation at Cafe Julienne for tomorrow night. While Waldorf’s gone, you come get me. He keeps a key in his table.”

  Chrysanth nodded along but grew less and less confident with each word. “He’ll track you down.”

  “I’ll make him forget.” With great effort, Archie managed to offer a comforting smile. “It’s magic. But I need the rice. I need the noodle. I need that reservation to happen. Then, and only then, can you get me out of here.”

  “I’ll do it.” Chrysanth’s resolve had returned. He nodded twice as hard, breathing in deeply to fill himself with determination. “I’ll do it.”

  He marched out of the kitchen. “I’ll return as quickly as I can, Your Grace.”

  By some miracle, Prince Waldorf did not accost the guard any further, allowing him to leave.

  The plan was in motion. Archie would have every piece he needed to escape. There was only one thing left to do.

  He had to make the kulkida risotto without having an episode.

  “Next course!” Prince Waldorf roared from the other room.