Professor Puff, as Chef Flax had said, was a quiet soul. She would never be as voluble in her praise as Professor Honeycomb, nor as elegantly lavish as Professor Genoise. But when Lyra turned in her homework shortbread before Texture lab the next day, the professor’s satisfaction was clear.

It was a good day for Pestle all around. Professor Puff called Caramelle up again at the beginning of class, praising her excellent use of the simplified aeration charm. The professor also called up Mac, who looked like he could die happy right then, standing side by side with Caramelle as the Texture headmistress congratulated them.

“I know you are both already experienced Texturists,” Professor Puff said, her short gray hair shining silver in the morning sunlight. “Sometimes, bakers who have advanced as far as you have, especially at a young age, grow careless with the basics. But you did not fall into that trap. You approached this ‘simple’ charm with the same care as a high-level spell, and for that, I commend you.”

She dismissed them to their work-stations with a round of applause, which everyone but Aniseed joined enthusiastically.

“And speaking of this ‘simple’ charm,” Professor Puff went on, “we will be spending the rest of today reviewing it. I believe Professor Honeycomb discussed the importance of repetition?”

Six students nodded.

“Excellent. Then I need not repeat my colleague’s wise words.” She then instructed them to produce another batch of shortbread using the same aeration charm. “We’ll spend the morning in review. After lunch, we can begin applying the spell to other recipes. Remember: repetition is key.”

Just like her practice session in the kitchen with Chef Flax, Lyra was astounded at how enjoyably the dreaded Texture lab day flew by. Whenever she felt herself getting lost in the words or rhythm of Master Chiffon’s Aeration Charm, she merely shut her eyes and let the music play in her mind. Not only did the song help keep her locked in to the spell, but the mental image of Bumble and Sprinkle crooning in perfect harmony never failed to bring a smile to her lips.

Better still, even a silent, mental use of the song produced pleasing results in her spellwork. With friendly voices chorusing in her mind, Lyra was able to stay relaxed in the tense silence of the classroom. The dough came together around her fingers with the same precise timing as the night before, and the blue light danced even more vibrantly around her hands. Professor Puff was just as pleased with Lyra’s morning batch of shortbread as with her homework.

The afternoon was increasingly fun. Lyra had no trouble adapting the tune to other versions of the charm. Careful not to let a sound escape her lips, she sang on the inside as she whipped up multiple versions of pastry and rolls, each batch slightly fluffier than the last. By the time they all left for dinner, Master Chiffon’s Simplified Aeration Charm was rolling off her mental tongue with relative ease.

“Congratulations, Lyra!” Boysen gave her a high five as they took their places at the first-year table in the dining hall. “And congratulations to all of us. The Whisk Whizzes did themselves proud today.”

Lyra sighed happily. “I didn’t know Texture could be so much fun.”

“It was our first full class day of magic,” Ginger pointed out. “Magical baking is fun. Who knew?”

“Which makes it all the more surprising that we’re not doing any magic in Flavor.” Caramelle sat as primly at the table as she always did in class, her white apron still spotless. “One week, I could understand. Maybe even two. But the entire first term?”

“Flavor is a tricky discipline,” Boysen said, sounding remarkably like his brother. “You can’t hide behind magic like in the other two.”

Caramelle’s eyes flashed. “Texture is an exact, demanding principle. It requires far more precision than Flavor.”

“Sure. Of course.” Boysen held up his hands in surrender. “I’m just saying that everyone has to learn the basics. We’ll get to the magical shortcuts and enhancements later, but for now, Honeycomb’s trying to get everyone on a level playing field.”

“Baking is NOT a level playing field,” Caramelle protested. “Some people have what it takes, and some don’t. I thought if anyone would understand that, it would be the teachers at the Royal Academy of Magical Baking.”

“Careful, Meringue,” Ginger teased. “You’re beginning to sound like my poor persecuted roommate.”

Aniseed had not made an appearance in the dining hall since the welcome feast, apparently determined to take all her meals in the haughty seclusion of her room. Now, the other first-years all went silent, remembering the brief but intense scene between Professor Honeycomb and ‘Aspiring Baker Mint’ the previous morning.

“I still can’t believe she actually threw Aniseed out,” Lyra said, her voice hushed with awe. “Missing an entire Flavor lab day…”

Ginger snorted. “I can’t believe Aniseed didn’t do the homework. I know her ego’s more puffed up than over-proved choux pastry, but I didn’t think she was that dumb.”

“Do you think Professor Honeycomb will get in trouble?” Mac asked. “Aniseed did threaten to get the Royal Chefs involved. Her family has a lot of clout.”

Boysen shook his head. “The Royal Chefs are all former academy students. They all adore Honeycomb. Aniseed won’t get anywhere with that.”

The arrival of floating plates heaped with food interrupted the conversation. Boysen actually yelled in excitement at the sight of Chef Flax’s special homemade pasta and meatballs, swimming in a decadent creamy tomato sauce. Lyra felt a bit like yelling herself after the first luxurious bite. The meatballs were spiced to perfection. The sauce contained just the right hint of sweetness to balance the acidic tomatoes. Even the pasta was flavorful. Winding one particularly long strand around her fork, Lyra breathed in and could have sworn she detected a whiff of caramelized garlic.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

And Chef Flax says he’s not a Flavor specialist, she thought with a happy sigh, her taste buds and stomach uniting in a chorus of delight.

For a few minutes, the first-year table was silent except for the sounds of clinking silverware.

Caramelle, though, was clearly not finished with the topic. After one or two delicate bites, she put down her fork and said, “Aniseed has to learn that family connections don’t mean anything here.”

“Really?” Ginger sounded incredulous. “You actually think that? As a Meringue?”

“I know I have been fortunate,” Caramelle said evenly, dabbing at her lips with her napkin. “Being a Meringue is inspiring. It motivates me to work harder. I am sure that helped get me here — but now I’m here. At the academy, all that matters is talent… and training.”

She fell silent, but Lyra could tell her roommate was still brooding about Professor Honeycomb’s ‘no magic’ curriculum.

“And hard work,” Boysen added. “Like the Whisk Whizzes demonstrated today.”

“Especially Lyra.” Ginger speared a giant meatball with her fork and took a large bite, somehow managing to speak intelligibly while chewing. “How’d you do it? I know you were dreading today, but you clearly managed to impress the Puff.”

Caramelle smiled at her roommate. “I knew those extra coaching sessions would help. We’ve been hard at work in Pestle, on top of the study group.”

Lyra concentrated on winding another long strand of pasta around her fork. She hadn’t told anyone about her time in the kitchen, or the musical strategy she had worked out with Bumble and Chef Flax. It felt like confessing a weakness, one that would make her feel even more like a fraud than she did already. But she also didn’t want to be dishonest.

Surely anything that involved a duet between flying squirrels couldn’t be truly bad…

Lyra took a deep breath. “I set the charm to music, actually. That’s what made the difference.”

Beside her, Caramelle inhaled sharply.

“You sang the charm?” Mac looked confused. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“I didn’t sing it aloud,” Lyra explained. “I just set it to a tune to help me learn the words. And then I sang it in my head to keep me on beat.”

Ginger clapped her hands. “Oohhh, that’s a great idea! I bet that would help us all, especially when we have loads of these spells to keep straight.”

“You took Master Chiffon’s Aeration Charm,” Caramelle said slowly, “and set it to music?”

“Why not?” Boysen began tapping on his knees, already feeling out a rhythm. “Like Ginger said, we’re going to be learning a lot of magic this term. Wouldn’t it help to have a system going in, to help us memorize them all?”

“But — it’s —” Caramelle seemed to be struggling for air as well as words. “It’s math! An exact science. You can’t just add in a new element, like melody or singing. It’s… that’s… cheating!”

“Cool your cakes, Meringue,” Ginger said. “We’re not saying to DO the spell with music. We just want to use music to help us memorize the spell at the right tempo. Learn the words, so we can say them. Internally. Without singing.”

“I sing them,” Lyra reminded her. “Internally, of course, but I’m not just reciting.”

“And it worked,” Ginger observed.

Lyra nodded. “It did. It’s the only way I could get the spell to work for me.”

“That is not right,” Caramelle said, her voice low and tight with anger. “The baking world has traditions. They have been developed over generations, and they exist for a reason. Spells are meant to be spoken, not sung. That is how things have always been done.”

Ginger rolled her eyes. “Give it a rest, Meringue. You’re just mad that Lyra doesn’t need your help in Texture. She can succeed on her own.”

“That’s not true,” Lyra protested. She turned to Caramelle pleadingly. “I need lots of help. I only tried the music thing because Chef Flax suggested it, and then he and Bumble helped me practice. But I was just building on our practice sessions from last night. I needed all that repetition and support for today.”

“She’s right, Meringue,” Boysen said. “We’re grateful for each Whiz’s contribution to the group. We wouldn’t be truly ‘Whizzes’ without your Texture skills.” He grinned at Lyra. “Or without Treble’s ability to set charms to music.”

Mac had one eye on Caramelle, whose face was still scrunched into a scowl. “Are we sure that’s not cheating?” he asked.

“It’s not,” Boysen said flatly. “My brothers used all kinds of tactics to help them memorize stuff.” Lyra caught his eye, and his voice softened. “We can double check with the professors if it’ll make you feel better, Meringue.”

“It would,” Caramelle replied stiffly. “Thank you.”

Without another word, Boysen rose and crossed to the professors’ table, returning a moment later with Professor Puff.

“We have a question, Professor,” he said politely. “And, as it is a matter of academy ethics, I thought it best not to wait.”

“Of course.” The professor’s keen gaze swept over the table. “I am at your disposal.”

Five students looked at Lyra, who suddenly wished she could roll herself in a strand of pasta and drown in tomato sauce.

“I — I set the charm to music,” she confessed. “To help me learn the words and stay on tempo. I don’t sing it when I’m baking — not out loud, I mean. I sing it in my head, instead of… reciting it mentally. Is that okay?”

Professor Puff’s eyes widened. She was silent for so long that Lyra added ‘being baked into a meatball’ to her list of preferable activities for this particular moment.

Finally, the Texture headmistress spoke.

“That is ‘okay’, Aspiring Baker Treble.” She paused again, choosing her words with care. “I cannot say that I wholly approve. My desire for each of you is to rise to the level of the challenge, not adapt the challenge to suit your preferences. But, baking is a long journey through the self, discovering one’s own strengths and weaknesses. The academy’s aim is to help you hone your strengths and shore up your weaknesses. As a rule, we encourage you to employ any tool you possess in this pursuit.”

Lyra’s hands were shaking under the table. She clasped them together tightly, trying to keep her voice steady as she whispered, “Thank you, Professor. I will keep trying to… rise to the level of the challenge.”

Professor Puff nodded gravely. “I am sure you will, Aspiring Baker Treble. I am sure all of you will.”

Caramelle was quiet for the rest of the meal, and all through Whisk Whiz Review. When the group urged Lyra to teach them the aeration charm song, Caramelle voiced no objection, but she didn’t participate. She also excused herself shortly thereafter, saying it had been a long day and she wanted to go to bed early.

As she left, Lyra couldn’t bring herself to look at her roommate, sure that she would see disapproval in the auburn-haired girl’s eyes. Another conversation was coming, sooner or later, and Lyra was not looking forward to it. But when she tiptoed into the dark room later and climbed into her own bed, it was hard to be apprehensive. It had been a good day. A great day.

And tomorrow was their first Presentation lab. A full day in the Presentation classroom.

A full day with Cardamom.

Lyra buried her face in her pillow to stifle a sudden gleeful giggle.

Vaguely disquieting roommate issues aside, her first full week at the Royal Academy of Magical Baking was turning out to be an unqualified success.

—

Two days later, Lyra collapsed on her bed in Pestle after dinner, burying her face in her pillow. The Friday Whisk Whiz Review would be starting soon, but she needed to close her eyes, even just for fifteen minutes.

Lyra heard the door opening. Caramelle was coming in.

Fifteen minutes, Lyra promised herself. Just pretend to be asleep. You can talk later.

She scrunched her eyes tightly shut and tried to breathe slowly and steadily. Thankfully, Caramelle went straight to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Lyra sighed. They would have to talk it out at some point.

Pestle was too small a room for this kind of trouble to go unaddressed.