Lyra managed to escape the exam hall without encountering anyone. She didn’t particularly want to be alone, but she wasn’t ready for conversation yet. There would be time for that later. For now, she just wanted to be quiet and get her thoughts in order.

Without thinking, her feet took her to the one place on campus where she wouldn’t be alone, but wouldn’t be required to talk or listen: Queen Penelope’s rooftop throne room.

Despite Lyra’s lack of a sweet offering, the giant chicken was pleased to see her. Evidently, Queen Penelope had been at the Royal Academy of Magical Baking long enough to know when a student needed some thinking time. Clucking amiably, she made room for Lyra to curl up beside her on the pillow-laden dais, and even offered the dejected first-year a plate of vanilla walnut scones. Lyra took one out of politeness, and decided after the first nibble that the royal poultry was on to something.

Maybe we all just need a little more sweetness, she thought. Might even change Caramelle’s disposition for the better.

By lunchtime, Lyra still didn’t feel like talking, but her fingers were beginning to itch for some kind of activity. Idly, she wished she had grabbed her guitar on her way up to the roof. Queen Penelope might have enjoyed some Any Weather Bards tunes. And what better way to clear the head than a little music-making?

Suddenly, Lyra sat up.

“I’m still thinking like a bard,” she said out loud.

Queen Penelope clucked inquiringly.

“But I’m not a bard,” Lyra went on. “And I don’t want to make music right now. I want to bake.”

Giving the royal chicken a deep curtsy of thanks, Lyra bounded down the back staircase that connected the rooftop abode directly to the kitchen. Chef Flax and Bumble were delighted by her arrival, and even more delighted by her offer to help in the holiday feast preparations. Like Queen Penelope, they seemed to understand Lyra’s mood and didn’t push her to talk more than she wanted. After congratulating her on making it through to the second term, they simply let her roll up her sleeves and focus on the work.

Despite her inner turmoil, Lyra enjoyed the afternoon. She stirred the béarnaise sauce for the roasted vegetables and rolled the pastry for the beef wellington. She toasted pecans for the baked brie and ran out to the greenhouse to collect ginger for the carrot soup. She even swallowed her recent bad experience with Presentation and helped the Chef pipe frosting onto twenty-four miniature yule log cakes, making each one resemble a snowy tree branch.

All the while, she didn’t say a word. But at Bumble’s insistence (translated by Chef Flax), she did sing.

When relevant, she sang whatever spell was required for the task at hand. Otherwise, though, she just sang. By the time Chef Flax ordered her to go join the first-years at the feast, she had made it through most of the Any Weather Bards repertoire, with a few Lyra originals thrown in. Even without any guitar accompaniment, both the head chef and the sous chef declared she had fulfilled her promise of a concert. She left the kitchen to the sound of Chef Flax’s applause and Bumble’s chattered praise.

The first-year table welcomed her with joy. Thankfully, Caramelle was at the professors’ table for her victory dinner, so Lyra did not have to face her just yet. Also thankfully, the other Whizzes accepted ‘helping Chef Flax in the kitchen’ as sufficient explanation for Lyra’s absence throughout the day, so she didn’t have to endure any probing questions. Best of all, the time with Chef Flax and Bumble had refreshed Lyra enough to let her put on a convincing show of joining in her friends’ jubilant mood.

“Any big plans over break?” Ginger asked as the main course floated over to replace the soup.

“Practice,” Mac sighed. The steam rising off the beef wellington fogged up his glasses. Taking them off, he rubbed them clean on his apron and continued, “Second term is going to be even harder. I don’t want to get behind.”

“You’ll have to set aside at least one night for fun,” Boysen said firmly. “Specifically, next Wednesday night. My parents want to have all of you over for dinner. Berry tradition.” Once they had all gladly accepted this invitation, Boysen clapped Mac on the shoulder. “And sure, second term is going to be hard, but it can also be better. We know the ropes now.”

“And we don’t have to deal with dear Lady Mint,” Ginger added. Pausing to breathe in the savory aromas of roasted vegetables, creamy béarnaise, and pastry-wrapped beef, she smiled at Lyra. “Speaking of, want to switch rooms? Join me in Zester?”

Lyra paused with a laden fork halfway to her mouth. “Seriously? Don’t you want the room to yourself?”

“No thanks.” Ginger grinned, spearing a particularly juicy brussels sprout and dunking it in béarnaise sauce. “I share a room with my sister at home. It would be weird, not having a roomie.”

“What about Caramelle?” Mac’s gaze drifted over to where Caramelle sat at the professors’ table, the light from the chandeliers glinting off her Stellar Enchantment Pin. “Won’t she be lonely?”

Lyra kept her eyes down, pretending to be fully absorbed in arranging the perfect bite of pastry, beef, and gravy on her fork.

“No,” she said, marveling at how light and carefree her own voice sounded. Past experience in performances did have its benefits. “No, I think Caramelle will be just fine on her own.”

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—

Lyra was ready and waiting when Caramelle returned to Pestle that evening.

Well, maybe not ‘ready’. But she was waiting.

“How was dinner?” Lyra asked coolly. “Did you enjoy the celebration?”

Caramelle hesitated for a moment, hand still on the open door, as if she were contemplating making a run for it. Then she tossed her head in a very Aniseed-esque fashion.

“Yes, thank you.” She entered the room and closed the door firmly behind her. “Professor Puff was eager to hear of my parents’ restaurant. She was a year ahead of my mother here at the academy.”

Lyra stood slowly from her bed, crossing her arms. “I bet your parents were so very proud when they heard about your win. Really living up to the Meringue potential, aren’t you?”

“No more than expected,” Caramelle replied evenly. “For generations, no one in my family has ever failed to earn the first term Stellar Enchantment Pin at the Royal Academy of Magical Baking.”

“That’s not what I meant. Meringues will do anything to get ahead, right?” Lyra could feel her voice rising with her anger and made no attempt to stop it. “It doesn’t matter who gets hurt, or what dirty, underhanded method you use, so long as you win. Today, you truly became a Meringue.”

Caramelle’s eyes flashed. “So you’re suddenly an expert on the baking world? You have no idea what this business is like, Treble. You’re not a baker. You’re a — a — musician!”

“And performers know nothing about cutthroat competition.” Lyra rolled her eyes. “I’ve tried to give you a break, you know. I’ve tried to imagine the pressure you’re under, and how hard it must be. But I’m done. Pressure doesn’t give you an excuse to commit sabotage.”

“Sabotage?” Caramelle repeated shrilly. “How dramatic! You really are a performer. I didn’t sabotage you. If anything, it was a test. You would have been fine if you stuck with your recipe. But you jumped at the chance to ‘get ahead’, didn’t you? Climb down off your pedestal, Treble. You’re as desperate to win as any of us. You’re just mad that I outsmarted you this time around.”

“I trusted you!” Tears stung in Lyra’s eyes, but she tried to hold them back. She was not going to give Caramelle the satisfaction of seeing her cry. “That’s why I’m mad. Sure, the pin would be great, but I was just happy to stay for another term. I would have been thrilled for you to win, you know. You’ve worked hard. You deserve it. You could have won fair and square. But you didn’t.”

Caramelle laughed harshly. “You would have been happy for me? Who’s lying now? You’re lying to yourself.”

“I’m not,” Lyra insisted. “I would have been happy for you.”

“Really?” Caramelle folded her arms. “All right, Treble. Look me in the eye, right now, and swear that you didn’t secretly hope to win this term. Swear that not even the tiniest part of you wanted to get the pin.”

Lyra opened her mouth, then closed it.

Caramelle nodded. “I thought so. Because you wanted to win, didn’t you? Not just because you wanted to prove something, but to impress Cardamom.”

“Cardamom?” Lyra repeated, trying not to sound like she’d been punched in the gut.

“That’s what this is really about, isn’t it?” Caramelle spat, her face flushing nearly as red as her hair. “You wanted to catch his eye. Make him notice you. Admit it, Lyra. You’re not mad at me all of a sudden because you think I ‘sabotaged’ you or ‘betrayed your trust.’ You’ve been mad all term because of the attention I’ve been getting from Cardamom. He’s taken an interest in me, and you can’t stand it.”

“I can’t stand that you’re a liar!” Lyra was shouting now. She wondered briefly just how thick the walls in the dorm building actually were, and how many students might be listening in to the ‘Pestle Roomie War.’ Then anger drove out every other thought, and she bellowed, “All you do is lie! You’ve been lying to Cardamom. No way you need that much help in Presentation. But you know that’s the only reason he’s spending time with you, so you just keep right on lying. It’s sickening!”

“You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it first,” Caramelle smirked.

Lyra ignored her. “You’ve been lying to all of us, all term. Flattery for the professors. Self-Presentation spells for Cardamom. Speeches about community for the rest of us. You stood right here, in this room, and told me you wanted us to work together.”

“And you went right along with it.” Caramelle seemed to puff up with each sentence, like an overwhipped choux pastry. Even the chef’s hat pinned carefully to her head was quivering with rage as she hissed, “You were happy to take advantage of all my expertise, weren’t you? Just a poor innocent bard, with nothing to contribute and everything to gain. What could you possibly have done to help me?”

“I was always grateful —” Lyra began, but Caramelle plowed right ahead.

“And you just soaked up everything like a lemon drizzle sponge, didn’t you? I could see your game, Treble. Learn everything you can from me, and then cut me down at the first opportunity.” Caramelle took a deep breath, smoothing her hair with one trembling hand. “I just got there first.”

“If you really believe that,” Lyra countered, “then you’re the one lying to yourself. Do you really think all bakers are that awful? Did you think everyone at the Whisk Whiz Review was just waiting to stab each other in the back?”

At the mention of the Whisk Whiz Review, Caramelle wilted. She rallied back in the blink of an eye, but Lyra was sure she hadn’t imagined the pang of sadness in her roommate’s eyes.

“We had a great time together,” Lyra continued softly, hoping to get through to whatever part of Caramelle had produced that pang. “All five of us. We got each other through the term, and we made it fun. That wasn’t all a lie, was it?”

For a moment, Caramelle froze. Her careful mask of poise cracked. Then her mouth set in a firm line. She smoothed her hair again, caressing the brilliant Stellar Enchantment Pin on her hat with the same gesture. When she spoke, her voice was cold and brittle.

“The Whisk Whiz Review contributed nothing to my experience this term. I gave it a try, for the sake of professional courtesy. But I shall not be attending in the future,” Caramelle said.

Lyra boiled over.

“Fine!” she snapped. “We will get along just fine without you. And you won’t need to worry about me ‘sponging’ off you anymore because I’m moving in with Ginger after the break. We confirmed it with Professor Honeycomb after dinner. You’ll have the room to yourself.”

“I’m sure Ginger was fascinated by your account of my ‘betrayal,’” Caramelle scoffed. “Bet you had a sympathetic audience all ’round. What did the other ‘Whisk Whizzes’ have to say?”

Suddenly, Lyra felt as deflated as an underproofed loaf of bread. She sighed.

“I didn’t tell them anything.”

Caramelle raised her eyebrows. “Oh?”

“No. And I’m not going to.” Lyra swung her bag, already packed, over her shoulder and picked up her guitar. “For your sake and mine. Since you have no shame, I’ll just have to be ashamed for both of us.”

She walked to the door. Caramelle stepped aside to clear the path.

“Enjoy the break,” Caramelle said coolly. “See you in two weeks.”

“I hope not,” Lyra replied. Wearily, she opened the door, stepped through it — and ran straight into Cardamom Coulis the Third, who was just raising his hand to knock.