The challenge set for this final entrance exam was surprisingly simple. Lyra reread the instructions at the top of the scroll, upside down, as the judges examined the recipes and spells she had written underneath:

Bake your favorite layer cake with exactly THREE layers (no more and no fewer than three). The layers must be stacked. You can include more than one flavor of cake, filling, and frosting, but it is not required. Choose ONE spell each for Flavor, Texture, and Presentation. Include these spells and your recipe below.

That was it. Her favorite three-layer cake, with flavor and decoration left entirely up to her preference. Only one spell each for the three judging categories. Lyra wasn’t complaining, but still… for the Royal Academy of Magical Baking, and after a year of trials that had progressed from difficult to fiendishly complex, the task felt shockingly basic.

But as the judges pored over her scroll, Lyra began to wonder if she had missed something. Was there some secret baking code hidden in those seemingly meager instructions? Had her eleven fellow bakers all picked up on this code, thanks to their tutors and their years of immersion in the magical baking world?

She seemed to be the only final candidate from a non-baking family. The judges didn’t know that, of course. They didn’t ask for the students’ names or identify them in any way. The Royal Academy was brutally intense, but fair. They wanted everyone to have an equal chance. It was ability that mattered, not background or connections.

But I bet the judges still recognize a lot of these students, Lyra thought in a sudden panic. If they’re related to alumni, or just move in the right circles…

Lyra glanced back at Caramelle. The auburn-haired girl wasn’t paying any attention to Lyra’s judging. She was staring out the window with an air of determined unconcern.

Then Lyra’s gaze flicked over to Boysen, sitting at the work-station behind her. He was leaning forward over the counter, watching the judges almost as intently as Lyra had been. Catching her eye, he grinned and silently mouthed a single word:

“Breathe.”

She took a deep, shaky breath and made her best attempt at a smile. Then she turned back around, giving her full attention to the three professors whose taste buds were about to decide her fate.

Lyra watched anxiously as the judges finished reading through her scroll of recipes and spells. She watched anxiously as they nodded thoughtfully at the paper, then at each other. And she watched anxiously as each professor took turns examining the cake itself, turning it this way and that and sniffing delicately.

Then Professor Puff cut three slices of cake, all exactly the same size, and deposited them on three plates. Moving almost in unison, the professors lifted the plates to their noses and inhaled deeply. They poked at the cake with a fork, scraping to analyze the crumb. Finally, they each cut a small bite and placed it in their mouths, closing their eyes and chewing with reverent dignity.

As one, they opened their eyes. They looked at the cake. They looked at the scroll.

Then they looked up at Lyra. And, for the first time since entering the room, one of them spoke.

“You chose a deepening charm for your Flavor spell?” Professor Honeycomb asked, her voice golden and layered.

“Y—yes,” Lyra stammered. “Since it’s a vanilla cake, I thought that charm would help bring out the dark richness of the vanilla without being too sweet.”

Professor Honeycomb nodded. Professor Puff spoke next, each word smooth and even.

“For Texture, you used Master Pavlova’s Spell of Fluffening?”

“Yes.” Lyra didn’t dare say she had chosen that spell mostly because the name made her giggle. “I — that’s how I like my cakes. Light and fluffy.”

Professor Puff’s mouth turned up in what might have been the ghost of a smile. “Me too.”

Then she bowed slightly, giving the floor to Professor Genoise.

“When only allowed one spell for Presentation, most students aim for the complex or virtuosic.” His voice was so soft that Lyra had to lean in to hear, but it was also thrilling, like a strain of ethereal music. “You have chosen Madame Temper’s Chant of Precision. A cleanliness spell, focusing on the neat and orderly.”

The professor raised his eyebrows, and Lyra realized he was waiting for her explanation.

Again, she dared not give the full truth. She couldn’t exactly tell the academy judges that most Presentation spells were way too complicated for her meager baking-magic skills. Lyra would be capable of those spells one day, she was sure. She just needed training and time.

And the only way for her to get both those things was to make it into the academy.

Lyra took another deep breath.

“I’m a messy baker,” she said. “Neatness doesn’t come naturally. So I thought, for a cake as important as this, I wanted it to be neat more than anything.”

All of that was absolutely true. What’s more, all three professors nodded in apparent agreement.

“It is important to recognize one’s own weaknesses,” Professor Genoise said kindly. “As well as one’s strengths. Allows one to prioritize appropriately for every different occasion.”

Lyra dropped a quick half-curtsy. “Thank you.”

She expected the judges to move on, but they still stood there, looking at her thoughtfully.

“You are sure you used only those three spells?” Professor Honeycomb asked. “Nothing extra?”

“Just those three,” Lyra replied. “One for each category, right?” Then panic struck, and she gasped. “Oh, sharps. Were we supposed to do more? Was it three spells for each category? I thought —”

“No, you were correct,” Professor Puff assured her. “The limit was three spells total. One each for Flavor, Texture, and Presentation. It is just…”

She looked at Professor Genoise.

“It is surprising,” he said, continuing the thought, “when working with spells so basic as these you have selected, to achieve the level of…”

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He looked at Professor Honeycomb.

“Enjoyment,” she supplied. “A truly delightful eating experience. The most ‘fun’ bite of cake I’ve had in years.”

Lyra could have sworn there was a choir singing somewhere nearby. Several, in fact.

“Thank you,” she said again. Her voice came out in a whisper, but the judges heard anyway.

“Thank you,” Professor Puff said with a smile.

The other two professors echoed their thanks, and then they moved over to judge Ginger Crumble’s cake.

Lyra swiveled weakly on her stool, clinging to the counter to keep from falling off. Boysen was beaming, bouncing on his stool with barely contained glee. He gave her two subtle thumbs-up, mouthing the word, “FUN!”

She nodded, too dazed to respond. Then she turned back around to conduct her own examination of her cake.

They had asked for her favorite, so she had given it to them. A vanilla cake with vanilla cream cheese frosting, with a sprinkling of chocolate chips in between the layers. She sniffed, poked, and got a tiny taste. Sure enough, it was light and fluffy and delicious, just like the other dozen versions of this cake she had made in preparation for this day.

It certainly tasted ‘fun’ to her. But it would, of course. This was her favorite cake. She wasn’t sure why the professors had been so excited.

As Professor Genoise had pointed out, Lyra’s decoration was simple. She had piped a ribbon of dark red frosting around the top and bottom, and then dotted the ribbon with pale pink rosettes. A larger clump of rosettes, dark red and pink, graced the center of the cake. Thanks to Madame Temper’s Chant of Precision, the frosting was smooth and the piping as neat as a pin. But again, she didn’t see much cause for the judges’ glowing praise, especially once she started looking around at some of the other students’ offerings.

Lyra had been so consumed with her own creation and her own fears that she hadn’t been paying much attention to what the other students were producing. Even during the long wait for the judges to reach her counter, she had been mostly zoned out in anticipation.

And a good thing too. If she had really seen the cakes produced by her fellow candidates, she might have left the classroom in tears before the judging even began.

Lyra had thought herself pretty daring for using TWO colors in her decoration. One glance at Ginger Crumble’s creation, though, revealed that Lyra had a lot to learn about ‘daring.’ Ginger had somehow shaped and frosted her cake to make it resemble a honeycomb. It was a perfect dome, like a beehive, and covered in a network of perfect interlocking hexagons. Lyra had no idea how the girl had found time for so much detail, or what level of spell would produce that precision. It did, perhaps, explain why both Ginger and her workspace were still covered in flour.

The judges seemed just as appreciative as Lyra. Now that they were closer, Lyra could see that the judges were having some form of exchange with each student, though hers had been the only interaction that included words. Professor Puff nodded at Ginger, and Professor Honeycomb shook the girl’s hand warmly. Professor Genoise was the best. He actually took off his chef’s hat, laden with pins, and gave Ginger a small bow.

Flour-strewn ghost that she was, Ginger had put her Presentation potential beyond doubt.

The judges then crossed the aisle to Boysen’s work-station. Lyra had just enough time to give him an encouraging smile before the three professors demanded his full attention. While they began their examination, Lyra got her first good look at Boysen’s cake.

She bit back a gasp.

Boysen had said he was a Flavor guy. Lyra was sure this was true, but he clearly had a flair for Presentation also. His cake was a perfect sphere. His Presentation spell must have gone into keeping it balanced, which meant the decoration was all manual. And it was exquisite. The frosting was a warm cerulean, like the sky at midday. Swirls of whipped cream dotted the smooth blue surface, looking so real that Lyra could have sworn they were actually clouds moving in some gentle breeze. Billows of more whipped cream piled around the base of the cake, like it was nestled in a bank of those clouds.

Professor Genoise took one look at the cake and clapped Boysen on the shoulder immediately. Professor Puff gave him an approving nod after her knife cut cleanly through the sphere. But Professor Honeycomb was the best. The first bite was barely in her mouth before she was scurrying around the counter to give Boysen a hug.

Boysen’s face flushed almost to the bright red of his berry namesake, but he was still grinning. He nodded his thanks to the judges and shook each of their offered hands. As they walked away, he looked at Lyra, drawing his hand across his forehead in a ‘Whew!’ gesture.

She gave him a round of silent applause, and he bowed with mock formality. Then they both turned to watch the last student’s encounter with the judges.

It was finally Caramelle Meringue’s turn.

Lyra felt her heart sinking into her shoes with each step the judges took towards the auburn-haired girl’s spotless work-station. The first sight of Ginger’s cake had impressed Lyra. Boysen’s cake had left her gobsmacked.

Caramelle’s cake made her want to slink off her stool and hide behind the counter.

It looked like a wedding cake for royalty. The three tiers seemed to float on top of each other, decreasing in size from bottom to top. The frosting was a blinding white, smooth as a field of newly fallen snow. Intricate piping formed a river of gold roses, winding around and around the cake to culminate in a mass of the same golden flowers on the top tier.

But it wasn’t just the neatness and the precision that sent Lyra’s spirits plummeting. Caramelle’s cake seemed to shimmer, like it was radiating a tangible glow of excellence. Some incredibly high-level Presentation spell was at work here.

And this from a girl who had identified Texture as her true specialty.

Boysen caught Lyra’s eye. He gestured toward Caramelle’s counter with raised eyebrows.

“Wow,” he mouthed.

Lyra just nodded, then turned her full attention to the judging in progress. She thought she felt Boysen’s eyes on her, but she couldn’t look away from the Meringue show.

If that’s the standard, she thought glumly, then I’m sunk. This whole year was a waste of time.

Caramelle smiled graciously throughout her judging, as elegant and poised as her culinary creation. Each of the professors made their appreciation clear. Professor Honeycomb limited herself to a slight bow, but Professor Puff surprised Lyra by performing a little jig of delight. Professor Genoise kissed Caramelle’s hand. Her Flavor might not be hug-worthy, but her Texture and Presentation were obviously as wonderful up close as they seemed from Lyra’s seat.

Then it was done. All twelve students had been judged. Lyra expected the professors to withdraw for some deliberation, but apparently, there was no need. They proceeded immediately to the platform that stretched across the back of the room, arranging themselves in a neat triangle around the teaching podium.

“We wish to thank all of you for your efforts,” Professor Puff began. “Not just today, but over the past year of trials. Each of you has worked with laudable diligence to reach this point, and we honor you.”

She and her fellow judges began a brief round of applause, which the twelve students all joined in politely.

Professor Honeycomb’s smile beamed across the room. “Every year, I think I know what to expect from these trials. And every year, the young magical bakers in this country exceed those expectations. Each of you has surprised me today, and for that, I thank you.”

“Indeed, you are all to be commended,” Professor Genoise said smoothly. “But I am afraid we can invite only six of you to join us at the academy. The rest of you will, I am sure, find other ways to continue your magical baking journey. We wish you the very best of the sweet and savory in your endeavors.”

He unrolled a scroll that had been left on the podium. The three professors all pored over it briefly, glancing up occasionally at the room and checking it against their own notes. Lyra guessed it was a seating chart, revealing the names of each of the candidates. She was proven right a moment later when Professor Genoise proclaimed:

“Here are the six students who have gained admittance into the academy. Aniseed Mint. Macaron Fondant.”

Professor Puff took the scroll. “Ginger Crumble,” she announced in her smooth, even voice. “Lyra Treble.”

“Boysen Berry,” Professor Honeycomb trilled. “And Caramelle Meringue.”

Lyra’s heart lifted slowly from her shoes, rising faster and faster through her chest until it got stuck in her throat. Either that invisible choir was singing again, or her ears were ringing.

Was that me? she thought dizzily. Did they say my name?

Boysen’s smile blazed in the corner of her eye, so bright she had to look. His whole face was alight with joy. That was confirmation enough for Lyra, even before she caught an unmistakable wink from Professor Honeycomb.

Professor Genoise rolled up the scroll and spread his arms wide.

“Welcome,” he said, his soft voice somehow carrying through the whole vast space. “Welcome, you worthy six, to the Royal Academy of Magical Baking.”