The six students scurried to their work-stations. Lyra could hear Aniseed muttering to herself as she swept by, something about ‘disgrace’ and ‘amateur.’ Across the aisle, Caramelle was standing at her counter, staring at the six powders as if they were about to sprout tentacles.

“Scared?”

Lyra glanced around to find Boysen at the work-station behind her, grinning.

“Terrified,” she admitted. “Which you wouldn’t understand, being the Flavor King and all.”

“Flavor King? Salts, I hope not.” He leaned forward across the counter, beckoning her to come closer. “Combining flavors is tricky, but it’s also subjective,” he whispered conspiratorially. “It’s all about finding something you like. Mix a bit of this and a bit of that until you have a combination you’d actually enjoy eating.”

Lyra stared at him. “Simple as that?”

“Simple as that. Remember: at the end of the day, we’re all just trying to make something for people to eat. Something they’ll enjoy eating.” Boysen leaned back, rolling up his sleeves. “Start with yourself. Make some cookies Lyra would enjoy, and you’re home free.”

She glanced down at his collection of powders and scrunched her nose. “Lyra would not choose to include star anise in any form.”

“Hey, Professor Honeycomb only said we have to use all the flavors.” Boysen pulled a medium-sized bowl from one of his drawers. “She didn’t say how much.”

Lyra turned back to her own work-station and her own collection of personality powders.

Experiment. Keep an open mind.

It’s all about finding something you like.

Make some cookies Lyra would enjoy.

She took a deep breath. “Here goes nothing.” Then she pulled out her own mixing bowl and started trying out ratios.

Her first idea was to include equal amounts of all six flavors. She knew it was a disaster by the fourth ‘personality powder.’ Vanilla and caramel and almond worked fine together, but ginger overwhelmed everything. Lyra almost felt her nose hairs burning. She couldn’t even bring herself to add the boysenberry, let alone the star anise. She discarded the powders, washed out the bowl, and tried again.

For the second attempt, she tried starting with a tiny bit of boysenberry and ginger, then layering the milder flavors in moderate amounts. This worked well until she got to star anise. Even the most miniscule pinch of Aniseed’s personality powder soured the entire bowl. Lyra threw the mixture out with a sigh and started again.

At least she knew her instincts were working. She had first noticed them most strongly in the kitchen with Chef Flax, but now that she knew what they were, Lyra realized they had always been there. Even before the academy trials, when she was just baking for fun, she had felt her gut nudging her towards certain combinations and proportions.

Now, every time she tossed a bit of powder into the mixing bowl, she felt a stirring deep inside her, registering varying degrees of approval or dismay. There was no spell to communicate Flavor progress in shades of green light, but Lyra’s gut was speaking. Her instincts were singing.

Maybe I really can be a baker, after all.

These instincts were emphatic in their rejection of Lyra’s third attempt, which involved pitting spoonfuls of ginger and star anise against each other. They were even more horrified by her fourth effort. She had thought a healthy dose of boysenberry could drown out the harsher qualities of star anise, but the result made her skin crawl. Her gut actually shuddered as she washed the offensive mixture down the drain and began again.

Time began to fly by as her work-station gradually deteriorated into a powdery mess. Lyra was deep into failed attempt number twelve when a voice at her ear made her jump.

“What are you humming?”

Razz was standing by her work-station, looking at her curiously.

“Was I humming?” Lyra stammered. “I’m sorry. Habit. Didn’t even realize it. I can stop, I don’t want to disturb —”

Razz waved his hand. “No worries. The Honeycomb didn’t say anything about working silently. I just thought I recognized the tune. Boysen mentioned you’re part of the Any Weather Bards, right?”

Lyra nodded. “With my parents and three brothers.”

“I love your shows,” Razz said. “My whole family goes whenever we can. Maybe that’s where I heard… what were you humming?”

“It’s a song about singing,” Lyra told him. “How fun it is to get together with a group of people and sing. It’s called ‘All Gather ’Round.’” She laughed. “I just realized — Professor Honeycomb said that earlier. Must’ve put the song in my head.”

“Well, don’t let me stop you.” Razz backed away. “I only got one bite of that cake you made for your entrance exam. Cardamom hogged it all.”

Lyra’s heart leapt up to her throat. She tried to speak around it. “He — he did?”

“Greedy fellow. He usually prefers looking at food, but he scarfed that cake down. Can’t blame him, though.” Razz turned, waving his hand. “Back to work with you. I can’t wait for another Lyra Treble creation.”

Lyra looked down at the collection of powders in her experiment bowl, wrinkling her nose. “Don’t hold your breath.”

Still, the words “Cardamom hogged it all” were fluttering around her head like overexcited baby birds. They made her heart race, but the adrenaline boost was invigorating.

She could keep going. She had to. She wasn’t going to crumple under the weight of her first real Royal Academy of Magical Baking assignment. Not when there was someone who had hogged her creation.

Washing out her bowl for the twelfth time, Lyra tried again.

The thirteenth experiment was even worse than the twelfth. Fourteen through sixteen were just as foul. But the seventeenth brought a smile to Lyra’s lips.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

I could eat that, she thought, her gut purring in agreement. I could eat a whole plate of that.

Humming, she turned to the much easier task of whipping together shortbread dough.

“That’s an hour!” Professor Honeycomb called some time later, just as Lyra’s shortbread came out of the oven. “Everyone, bring a plate of your Flavor creations up here. We’ll all sample together.”

Lyra hastily transferred her cookies to a plate and joined her five classmates at the front of the room. Professor Honeycomb looked around at them, beaming her usual cheery smile.

“I see you’ve all managed to produce a batch of shortbread. Well done. Now let’s see how you’ve got on with your flavors. Ginger, would you pass your plate around, please?”

Compared to the judging process from the final entrance exam, Lyra found this communal cookie-tasting remarkably enjoyable. They all agreed Ginger’s cookies were pleasant, but the star anise and boysenberry flavors were conspicuously absent. Mac’s cookies were all over the place. “Feels more like a battleground than a dessert,” Razz commented. “Six flavors all fighting for their position.”

Caramelle’s cookies, on the other hand, were a hostile takeover of one overwhelming flavor.

“Far, far too much caramel,” Professor Honeycomb said. “Cloyingly sweet. Your namesake is a lovely flavor, my dear, but a little goes a long way.”

At the first bite of Aniseed’s cookies, the professor’s face grew stern.

“Aspiring Baker Mint, what was the assignment?”

Aniseed nibbled daintily at her cookie. “To bake a batch of shortbread.”

“And incorporate all six of the provided flavors,” Professor Honeycomb added. She held up the cookie to Aniseed. “This is shortbread. Plain, and unflavored. Did you use any of the powders?”

“Those flavors would never go together,” Aniseed said calmly. “As a student of Flavor, I took the lesson as a test of my judgment. I judged the best flavor would be pure shortbread. So I made shortbread.”

Professor Honeycomb’s blue eyes hardened. The corners of her mouth drew down in an uncharacteristic grimace. Her usually warm voice became so cold, Lyra shivered.

“In the future, Aspiring Baker Mint, I strongly encourage you to take the lesson as given. My instructions are not open to interpretation. You have failed to complete today’s assignment in the allotted time. As such, I expect you to complete it this evening. Bring your batch of fully flavored shortbread to my office first thing tomorrow morning.” Without another word, the professor turned to Lyra. “Aspiring Baker Treble, what do you have for us?”

Lyra passed around her plate. She could barely swallow her own bite of cookie as she watched Professor Honeycomb chew, waiting for her response.

A startled look flashed across the professor’s face, followed quickly by a suffusion of delight.

“That is… unusual,” the professor said. “A bit off on your proportions — heavy on the ginger, and not quite enough caramel to cut that spice — but… I can taste all six flavors. Barely. And…”

Professor Honeycomb looked to Razz.

“And I like it,” he said simply. “Can’t really explain why, but I enjoy it. I would eat more.”

Boysen was standing next to Lyra. He nudged her shoulder, whispering, “What did I tell you?”

There was a general round of applause for Lyra’s mysteriously likeable cookies, and then it was Boysen’s turn.

“Transcendent,” Professor Honeycomb announced immediately, still chewing her first bite. “Absolutely exquisite.”

The verdict was unanimous. If Lyra’s cookies were sufficiently enjoyable, Boysen’s were life-changing. All six flavors were perfectly balanced, complementing and supporting each other in delicious harmony.

“And you didn’t kill anyone.” Razz clapped his brother on the back. “Good job, Poison.”

It was Lyra’s turn to nudge Boysen’s shoulder. “Flavor King,” she whispered. He rolled his eyes, but his grin was wider than ever.

A magical chime rang through the halls, signaling the end of class.

“See you all back here tomorrow for our full Flavor lab day,” Professor Honeycomb called. “We’ll continue laying this foundation in identifying and combining flavors. No homework, except for Aniseed. Class dismissed!”

Caramelle made a beeline for Lyra. “Aren’t you glad that’s over?” she demanded. “Sweet and savory, what a way to begin.”

“I liked it,” Lyra said honestly.

“At least we have Texture next.” Looping her arm through Lyra’s, Caramelle dragged her towards the door. “Trust me, roomie,” she said, her voice as determined as her stride. “You got a bit lucky with Professor Honeycomb, but Texture… this is where Pestle really starts to shine.”

—

Caramelle’s prediction came true as soon as she and Lyra entered the Texture classroom.

“Aspiring Baker Meringue! And Treble!” Professor Puff greeted them warmly. “I am glad to see you both. Meringue, might I have a word? I was hoping to speak with you before class.”

“Of course,” Caramelle replied with her most gracious smile. She squeezed Lyra’s arm then darted up to the teacher’s work-station, where she and Professor Puff began a whispered conference.

Caramelle had put them both in the front row for Flavor class. Left to her own devices, Lyra opted for the second row, choosing the work-station by the window. She had just settled herself on the stool to wait when Boysen and Ginger entered, supporting a rather dejected-looking Mac between them.

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as all that,” Ginger said soothingly. Catching Lyra’s eye, she waved. “Give us a hand here, Treble.”

Lyra hurried over and helped deposit Mac in the front right work-station. He slouched on the stool, staring glumly at his shoes.

“Macaron here is convinced he’s failed already,” Boysen explained. “Which is a load of spun sugar. Tell him, Lyra.”

Lyra patted Mac’s shoulder. “That’s a load of spun sugar.”

“We’ve only had one class,” Ginger pointed out. “One beginning assignment.”

“Which I made a mess of.” Mac buried his face in his hands. “You heard Boysen’s brother. ‘More like a battleground than a dessert.’”

“My brother is also a load of spun sugar,” Boysen replied. “Sometimes. Mostly he’s all right. But I’m with Ginger here. It was one assignment, on the first day.”

Mac groaned.

“It’s true,” Lyra coaxed. “Like my mom always says, one sharp note doesn’t ruin the song.”

This made Mac look up, but his eyes were puzzled.

Ginger patted his other shoulder. “My dad’s version is, ‘One burnt cookie doesn’t spoil the whole batch.’ Same principle.”

“Except in this case, I’m the burnt cookie,” Mac said sadly. “And the burnt cookie gets tossed out at the end of term.”

Boysen pushed himself between Mac and the counter. Rather than a gentle pat, he gave the other boy’s shoulders a very ungentle shake. “We are weeks away from any tossing,” he said firmly. “And your shortbread was not toss-worthy.”

“It was the worst in the class,” Mac said.

Ginger smirked. “Not quite. Aniseed didn’t even do the assignment right.”

“Exactly,” Boysen agreed. “If anyone is up for tossing after only one lesson, I’d say it’s Aspiring Baker Mint.”

Mac shook his head. “Her shortbread was still amazing. Flavor is my weakest point.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’re rooming with the Flavor King,” Lyra said, winking at Boysen.

“I reject the title, but agree with the concept.” Boysen gave Mac’s shoulders one more shake, then released him. “We all have our strengths and weaknesses, right? I saw your cake yesterday. Your Presentation is miles beyond mine.”

“And it tasted good too,” Ginger added.

Lyra nodded. “The ratio of coffee to marzipan was just right. No Flavor issues there.”

“The point is that the judges chose each of us for a reason,” Boysen said, finishing the combo. “We all deserve to be here, and we all have areas we can grow in. So let’s help each other out.” He held up his hand as if taking an oath. “The Aspiring Bakers of the Whisk room do hereby offer to host daily study sessions for any who might wish to join.”

“I wish,” Ginger said instantly.

Lyra raised her hand. “And me.”

“Oh, please.” Aniseed was standing in the doorway. “It’s only ‘let’s hold hands and help each other’ until the first exam. We all know someone’s going to be cut. This school is about rising to the top.”

Ginger put her hands on her hips. “We’ll rise a lot faster if we work together. Why do you think Professor Honeycomb gave us that assignment?”

“That assignment was an abomination,” Aniseed sneered. “Believe me, ‘Professor’ Honeycomb won’t be pulling anything like that again. My mother is very close with the Royal Chefs.”

She swept by in a haze of perfume to the back row.

“Like Boysen said,” Ginger muttered, “if anyone is up for tossing…”

“Forget her.” Boysen patted Mac on the back so heavily, the other boy almost fell off his stool. “Daily study sessions. Starting today. After dinner. Deal?”

Mac looked from Boysen to Ginger to Lyra. His eyes drifted to the front, where Caramelle and Professor Puff were finishing their conversation.

“Deal,” he said wistfully.

A magical chime rang out, and Professor Puff clapped her hands. “Let us begin! If you would all please take your seats, Aspiring Bakers?”