As she walked to the front of the room, Lyra could feel the warmth of Boysen’s gaze behind her, along with Ginger’s and Mac’s. They propelled her forward, allowing her to push through Caramelle’s frigid presence across the aisle.

“Remarkable Flavor, Treble.” Professor Honeycomb’s cheerful smile added to her classmates’ support. Lyra stood a little straighter as the professor continued, “Your original vanilla was already marvelous. But the addition of boysenberry, at just the right amount?”

Professor Honeycomb lifted her eyes, as if searching for adequate praise in the air above her head.

“Exquisite?” Razz suggested, giving Lyra a wink.

“Yes. Thank you, Berry.” Professor Honeycomb took Lyra’s hand and shook it. “Exquisite. You’ve got quite a gut there, Treble.”

Caramelle snickered, turning it quickly into a cough. Lyra ignored her, focusing instead on Professor Honeycomb’s sparkling blue eyes and the sight of Boysen in her peripheral vision.

“Thank you, Professor,” Lyra said.

“Remarkable growth in Texture this term, also.” Professor Puff’s voice was always demure, but Lyra could now recognize the subtle notes that indicated particular approval. “You did credit to Master Chiffon’s Aeration Charm.”

“Only the intermediate version,” Lyra confessed.

The right corner of Professor Puff’s mouth quirked up. “And at the beginning of the term, you were struggling with the beginner level. As I said, excellent growth. If you continue to apply yourself, and with Aspiring Baker Berry’s help, I have no doubt you will advance even more remarkably this term.”

Lyra glanced over at Boysen, whose arms were pumping up and down in a let’s GO gesture. She stifled a laugh.

“Thank you, Professor. I look forward to getting better,” Lyra said.

“Speaking of getting better,” Professor Genoise said gently, “I believe Apprentice Baker Coulis already spoke to you about the Presentation aspect of this cake?”

Lyra forced herself to look the professor in the eye. “Yes, sir. Allow me to apologize. I hate submitting subpar work. It won’t happen again.”

Professor Genoise’s green eyes were kinder than she expected. “I confess I was surprised. You performed Madame Temper’s Chant of Precision to great effect during your final entrance exam. May I ask what was different last week?”

Lyra could feel Caramelle tensing up in the front row, only a few feet away. She ignored her.

“I think I let my nerves get to me, Professor. I got stuck in my head. It’s such a simple spell, and I ruined it by overthinking it.”

“Of course.” Professor Genoise nodded, along with the other two professors. “We’ve all made such mistakes. Everyone can have a bad day.”

“It won’t happen again,” Lyra repeated.

Professor Genoise smiled. “Oh, but it will, my dear. You can be sure of that. Our job is to equip you with the skills that will enable you to push through such bad days, so your quality level remains high, regardless. That is where Apprentice Baker Coulis comes in. He went over your tutoring plan for this term?”

“Yes — thank you. Both of you.” Lyra was blushing, and knew she was blushing, which made her blush more. “I am so grateful for Apprentice Baker Coulis’s help.”

“I haven’t done anything yet,” Cardamom chuckled. “But I’m excited to work with Aspiring Baker Treble. I think we can learn a lot from each other.”

“Indeed. Thank you, Coulis.” Professor Genoise gave Lyra a small bow. “And thank you, Treble. I know I don’t need to urge you to work hard.”

She shook her head fervently, still blushing. Then Boysen started clapping, and she floated back to her seat, carried along by the applause and the glow of Cardamom’s smile.

And by the furious glare coming from The Meringue.

That was a nice bonus.

—

“Lyra!”

Cardamom’s eyes lit up as she entered the Presentation classroom. Her heart jumped into her throat and stuck there, making it difficult to speak or think or even breathe.

Pull it together, Treble, she admonished herself. If just the way he says your name turns you into a catatonic mess, you’ll never make it through the term.

At least she had the smiling part of social interaction covered. Her face felt frozen into a happy grin that almost certainly made her look ridiculous.

She swallowed hard. “Hi, Cardamom!” Then, before she could stop herself, she dropped into a curtsy.

Cardamom laughed gaily. “We should have more musician-bakers,” he said, stepping backward into a deep, grand bow. “They understand the etiquette of performance.”

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“What does that have to do with baking?” Lyra asked, wondering if the flush on her cheeks would prove as permanent as her delirious grin.

“Everything.” Cardamom spread his hands, looking for a moment just like Professor Genoise when he was about to judge a cake. “First lesson, Aspiring Baker Treble: all baking is performance.”

Lyra looked around. She’d never been in a classroom at night before. Darkness poured through the massive windows, but the room was cozily lit by the same magical fire that operated in her dorm’s fire pit. Torches were set in sconces around the wall, and two massive chandeliers hung from the ceiling, holding row upon row of magically burning candles. She could easily imagine them as stage lights, and the teacher’s platform as a stage, waiting for the next culinary tale to be told.

“That makes sense,” she said slowly. “I get the same sort of nerves before an exam that I used to have before shows with the Any Weather Bards. More, actually. Singing in front of a crowd never scared me as much as baking for Professor Puff.”

“The Puff?” Cardamom sounded incredulous. “She’s not that scary.”

“Not her, exactly.” Lyra hesitated. “Just… her disapproval. I want to impress her. All of them, really. I guess I’m scared of failing.”

“Every baker is, deep down.” Cardamom put a hand on each of Lyra’s shoulders, looking her in the eye. “What sets you apart is how you handle that fear. You can let it cripple you, or you can use it for fuel.” His dark eyes, inches from her own, danced in the magic candlelight. “Ready to fuel up, Lyra?”

Her heart was now pounding against the walls of her throat, loudly and so painfully that she was sure he must hear it. Speaking was out of the question, so she just nodded.

That was enough for Cardamom. “Excellent. Let’s get started.”

Lyra saw that he had pulled two stools behind the teacher’s counter. Sitting on one, he motioned for her to sit beside him.

“I thought we’d begin each session with a conversation,” he said, perching on the stool as elegantly as The Meringue, but with much less rigid effort. “In future weeks, we’ll have Presentation labs to prepare for and look back on, but for now, we can just talk. How’s the term so far?”

Lyra finally managed to swallow, pushing her heart back down to its rightful place. In a remarkable imitation of a calm voice, she answered, “It’s going well, I think. No complaints yet. I mean, the professors haven’t found a reason to complain about me yet.”

He smiled. “Flavor and Texture labs all right?”

“Great,” Lyra said fervently, and she meant it. The past two days had been lovely. She was amazed at what a difference it made NOT to be rooming with Caramelle. Sure, she missed The Meringue’s expertise in Texture, and Mac was moping through the Whisk Whiz Reviews like a lovesick puppy, but Lyra was determined to focus on the positive. “I love Flavor. I enjoyed the first term, just learning how to combine different tastes. Listening to my gut. Trusting my instincts.”

“Like a performer,” Cardamom said with a wink.

“Yes!” Lyra beamed, her heart fluttering delightfully. “Exactly. And this term, we’re using magic. We started Madame Hazelnut’s Deepening Spell in lab yesterday. It’s the one I used in my entrance exam. I love how it doesn’t pile magic on top, but just brings out the good that’s already there. Makes the food taste more real — more like itself. And the spell felt easy. Even easier than it was in my entrance exam, after all the months of practicing I did. Not just easy… fun. It was fun.”

She was suddenly aware that she had been talking very fast and rambling. But Cardamom didn’t seem to mind. He was still watching her, listening patiently.

She let her ridiculous grin relax into a genuine smile. “Texture can hurt my brain sometimes,” she confessed. “But Flavor just… flows.”

“Especially with a Berry as your partner,” Cardamom observed.

For some reason, her heart stuttered. She felt heat creeping back into her cheeks.

“Boysen is amazing,” she managed. Then, with more ease, “I mean, the Berry boys are Flavor Kings, right?”

Cardamom’s face was impassive. “Absolutely. And from what I’ve seen, Boysen is the best of the bunch.”

“Really?” Lyra’s eyes widened. “Better than Razz?”

“Hands down. And Razz knows it, too. But he’s a Berry, so he’s not mad about it. Not even a bit jealous. Just proud, and rightly so.”

Lyra shook her head in wonder. “They’re an incredible family.”

“No one can beat them in good nature, or in Flavor.” Cardamom waved a hand dismissively. “For what that’s worth, anyway.”

“For what that’s worth?” Lyra repeated.

“Flavor is all well and good,” Cardamom said airily. “So is Texture. But when it comes to measuring the true worth of a baker, nothing matters more than Presentation.”

Lyra felt her own eyebrows lift. “What do you mean?”

“Think about it.” Cardamom leaned forward, his voice eager. “Where do all the top bakers go? They work at the palace, or they open their own restaurants. Ever been to a royal banquet?”

Lyra shook her head.

“Take my word for it,” Cardamom said. “Exquisite Presentation. Beyond exquisite. As for restaurants, I’ve never seen one with shoddy Presentation. Have you?”

“No,” Lyra admitted.

“Because they don’t exist. A baker with poor Presentation skills isn’t going to succeed in any public position. It doesn’t matter how good the Flavor is, or whether they’re experts in Texture spells. Presentation is what sets you apart. It’s the dividing line between the best, and the better than best.”

Lyra giggled. Involuntarily, nervously, stupidly. “Better than best?”

“That’s right.” Cardamom’s face was serious. “So don’t worry about Boysen always winning in Flavor, or Caramelle dominating in Puff’s class. Presentation is how you win.”

To her own amazement, Lyra heard herself voicing a contrary opinion. “But isn’t the opposite also true? No matter how good something looks, if it doesn’t taste good, the restaurant won’t stay open. Right?”

Cardamom shrugged. “Sure. But unless the food looks good, the restaurant will never open in the first place.”

“Doesn’t that just mean the three principles have to work together? Like the professors said at the beginning of the year?”

Cardamom rolled his eyes. “And all principles are equal, and no one discipline is more important than the others. They all say that, but deep down, every baker believes their area of expertise is chief. Including our three professors.” He winked. “But only Professor Genoise is correct.”

The wink sent a jolt of electricity through Lyra’s insides. The rich scent of honey and cinnamon was all around her, making her feel pleasantly dizzy. Still, she couldn’t quite bring herself to agree wholeheartedly.

“It’s a tough lesson,” Cardamom said, watching her closely enough to note her uncertainty. “But an important one. It’s also why I asked Professor Genoise to let me work with you this term.”

“You — you asked?” The jolt of electricity must have started a fire deep within Lyra. Her heart was beginning to feel like a pot of chocolate chips over a double boiler. “I thought you two decided together.”

“I asked. And I wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Leaning forward even further, he balanced gracefully on the edge of the stool.

“Flavor instincts can be trained,” he said softly. “Texture spells can be learned. But style? The unique part of each baker that shines through in Presentation? That can’t be taught, or bought, or memorized. You either have it, or you don’t. And you…”

He gave her one of his most dazzling smiles, briefly removing her ability to breathe. Was her heart actually melting?

“…you, Lyra Treble, have it.”