The rest of the afternoon flew by, even faster and more pleasantly than the morning. It was almost a shame to have to stop and run down to the dining hall for dinner, especially when a glance at Pestle’s closed door showed the spice cake was still there, uneaten.

Thankfully, Boysen had an idea on the way down that cheered them both up.

“Why don’t we swing by the kitchens after we eat?” he suggested. “I haven’t seen Flax since we got back.”

Lyra was stunned to find that she hadn’t, either. She gave her hearty assent to this plan, with the provision that they keep the visit short.

“We still have a lot of baking to do,” she pointed out. “One more round of Presentation and Flavor after dinner.”

They had lingered so long over the Flavor scones that the dining hall was deserted by the time they reached it. Bolting down their steaming portions of shepherd’s pie, they dashed to the kitchen doors in time to grab the cookie tray floating out towards them.

“We’ll have our dessert in here, thanks,” Boysen told the cookie tray.

The cookies did not seem to agree. The tray kept tugging, determined to complete its journey to their table. It took all Boysen’s and Lyra’s strength to pull the platter of sweets back inside the kitchen.

“Bumble!” Lyra called as soon as they were inside the doors. “A little help?”

The flying squirrel glanced over and chattered a merry laugh. With a single wave of his tail, the tray went still, resting in Lyra’s and Boysen’s hands.

“Careful there,” Chef Flax chuckled. “Line order magic is no small feat. Nothing for first-years to be messing around with.”

Boysen set the tray on the counter and gave Bumble a weary salute. “Noted. And hullo, Flax.”

“It’s great to see you!” Running around the counter, Lyra threw her arms around the head chef.

“Second term greetings to you both,” he said warmly, returning her embrace. “Salts, I’m glad you’re all back. I know break time is important, and you lot certainly deserve it, but it gets too plum quiet around here in between terms.”

Bumble chattered an affirmative. Scampering over to the cookie tray, he carefully selected a few varieties and delivered them to Lyra and Boysen.

“One peanut butter oatmeal and one white chocolate macadamia?” Boysen whistled. “Bumble, you know me too well.”

Lyra closed her eyes, inhaling the scent of her own cookies. “Chocolate chip… and double chocolate chunk. Thanks, Bumble.”

Bumble swept off his sous chef’s hat and gave an elegant bow.

“So how’s the term going so far?” Chef Flax asked. “One week down, and you’re both still standing. That’s a good sign.”

Boysen nodded, speaking around a mouthful of peanut butter oatmeal cookie. “Still standing, still baking.”

“I’m afraid we can’t stay too long.” Lyra cast a wistful glance around the pleasantly bustling kitchen. “These weekly projects are intense.”

“It helps when you have the right partner,” Boysen said with a wink.

She smiled. “Yes. Absolutely.”

“They made you two partners, did they?” Chef Flax beamed. “Inspired pairing.”

Boysen polished off his second cookie in two massive bites. “I’ll say. You should hear the Flavor songs she’s discovered, Flax.”

“Flavor songs?” the head chef repeated.

“Just… what I hear when the Flavor spell is done.” Lyra kept her eyes on her half-eaten double chocolate chunk treat. “It’s not a big deal.”

“And the color songs!” Boysen went on, raising his hands to express the immensity of his excitement. “Wow, Flax. That’s the only word. A song for each color in Master Brulée’s Coloring Charm.”

Chef Flax whistled. “Master Brulée? I simply must hear these.”

“They’re not really songs,” Lyra rushed to say, shooting Boysen a glare which he cheerfully ignored. “It’s just a short line of melody for each color.”

“At least sing the ‘Red’ one, Treble,” Boysen wheedled. “As a treat for Flax.”

Bumble hopped onto Lyra’s shoulder, chattering indignantly.

“And Bumble,” Boysen added. “Of course. Especially Bumble.”

Lyra sighed. “Fine. Just ‘Red’, and then we really need to get back to work.”

She sang the dynamic tune that expressed, for her, all the majestic passion of the color red.

“Brava!” Chef Flax and Bumble both applauded enthusiastically, the flying squirrel chattering praise for the head chef to interpret. “That’s red, all right. Bumble and I agree. We can’t wait to hear the other colors!”

“Maybe tomorrow?” Boysen suggested. “If we get an early start, we might be able to get through our final round of projects before dinner.”

“That could work,” Lyra replied cautiously. “We could do three in the morning, and three in the afternoon…”

“And then spend the evening here!” Boysen exclaimed. “Is that all right, Flax?”

Chef Flax’s broad face creased into joyful wrinkles. “More than all right. I can think of no better way to spend my Sunday evening… especially if Miss Treble can be persuaded to bring her guitar, and give us that concert she’s been promising?”

“I can’t believe I got through a whole term without managing to fulfill that promise.” Lyra shook her head. “I’m so sorry, Chef.”

“Not at all, my dear.” Chef Flax waved dismissively while Bumble hopped down to the counter, chattering in a soothing tone. “We understand how much pressure you’re under. First term, in particular, can be overwhelming.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“But now we’re through,” Boysen said, clapping a hand on Lyra’s shoulder. “So we should take an evening to celebrate. Right, Treble?”

Lyra hesitated, but the combined pleadings of a Berry, a Flax, and a flying squirrel sous chef were irresistible. “Tomorrow night,” she agreed. “Only if we finish our work.”

Returning to Whisk, they whipped up another batch of buttercream frosting in record time. At Boysen’s urging, Lyra sang through each color tune once, and then they took turns mentally reciting the charms. Purple was still barely recognizable, and green was proving tricky, but Lyra couldn’t deny the marked improvement in red, yellow, and blue.

“Repetition is all we need,” Boysen promised her. “Tomorrow morning will be even better. By the afternoon, we’ll have something we can turn in with pride.”

Then, as promised, they ended the day with Flavor. Boysen persuaded Lyra to try the garlic scones this time, while he handled the cinnamon. To her delight, Lyra realized she could hear the Flavor better than she had in the afternoon. It was still much fainter when she was working alone than when Boysen put his hands in the bowl, but she could make out the tune clearly enough to guide her recitation of the spell.

“At least I know I can make it on my own,” she said happily as they finally pulled the completed scones out of the oven. “Can’t rely on your Berry superconductor superpowers forever.”

“Superpowers?” The door burst open. Razz Berry strode in, followed closely by Hyacinth Roulade. “What’s this about Poison having superpowers?”

“Just finishing up our practice run for Monday’s exam,” Boysen said quickly, before Lyra could explain. “Speaking of, mind doing an extra round of preservation spells? We don’t want to let everything hang on tomorrow.”

“Don’t ask me.” Razz collapsed into the sofa, putting his feet up on the edge of the fire pit and crossing his arms. “I’m not on duty. Hyacinth drew the short straw tonight, so I’m just keeping her company.”

Hyacinth crossed to the counter, smiling warmly at the array of scones, ciabatta, and frosted sugar cookies. “You all have been working hard, I see. I’d be glad to get in some extra preservation spell practice. Are the other first-years following a similar plan?”

“Ginger and Mac are on the same schedule,” Boysen replied. “If you’d cast an extra spell or two when you stop by Zester, I’m sure they’d be grateful.”

“Of course.” Hyacinth turned to Lyra, her smile faltering slightly. “And… Pestle? Do you think Caramelle wants a preservation spell?”

For some reason, Lyra’s heart sank.

“I’m not sure,” she confessed. “I — we wanted to talk to you about that, actually. About… Caramelle.”

She paused, looking at Boysen.

“She’s been locked in her room all day, as far as we know,” he told Hyacinth. “Did either of you see her at dinner?”

Hyacinth shook her head. “Or at lunch, or breakfast.”

“Exactly. We’re concerned she’s not eating.” Boysen nudged Lyra’s shoulder. “Treble says Meringue can get a little too… focused, sometimes.”

Lyra braced her shoulders, forcing her voice to stay light and measured. “She works very hard. Might not be taking care of herself. We’ve all tried knocking, but she won’t respond.”

“We even tried to take her a snack earlier. Nothing.” Boysen gave Lyra another encouraging nudge, then turned to Hyacinth. “Could you… maybe take her some food when you do your rounds? She might listen to you.”

Hyacinth’s golden eyes were full of concern. “Of course. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

Lyra swallowed a retort that she didn’t want to know, and just nodded her thanks. It had been such a lovely day overall. She was not going to let any troublesome thoughts about The Meringue ruin it.

Focus on the work, she told herself silently, marveling at the healthy glow emanating from the baked goods as Hyacinth completed the preservation spell. Focus on the baking. That’s why you’re here, after all. And if tomorrow can be just like today…

Catching Boysen’s eye, she grinned, earning her a special Lyra-only smile in return.

She could deal with another day just like today. In fact, she was looking forward to it.

—

The next day certainly started off the same, only better. True to his promise, Boysen paid an early visit to Queen Penelope, giving her their first batch of cinnamon scones from the day before in exchange for some of her very best eggs. Lyra declared the resulting Eggs Benedict ‘a breakfast fit for baking royalty.’

This, of course, led to a discussion about what sort of crest would be appropriate for the Flavor King, and then for the other Whisk Whizzes. This brainstorming session carried them through their first round of ciabatta prep. After a half-hour break for the proofing spell, the banter resumed, lasting through all three scone varieties and the five different colors of frosting for the sugar cookies. They were still debating which animal would best represent Ginger’s experimental ‘daring’ when they ran to the dining hall for a brief lunch.

Lyra could tell they were both a little nervous when they returned to Whisk for their afternoon session. This was supposed to be the final round for each of the projects. If all went well, they would be presenting the fruits of this afternoon’s labors to the professors in the morning.

Boysen endeavored to keep their spirits up by shifting the ‘family crest’ design conversation to the three professors, and finally to Chef Flax and his flying squirrel companions. His efforts paid off. The hours slipped by so pleasantly, Lyra forgot to worry about how much of her future was riding on the level of cinnamon in this scone or the shade of purple on that sugar cookie.

Finally, as the warm light of sunset was streaming through the window and both their stomachs were grumbling for dinner, they pulled the last batch of garlic scones out of the oven and stepped back.

“We did it,” Lyra announced. “I really think this last round was the best.”

Boysen grinned as he tried to wipe his floury hands with his even more floury apron. “Of course it was. Repetition pays off, right?”

“Indeed.” Lyra returned his grin. “Repetition, and good company. I think we make a great team.”

“I think you think right.” Giving up on his floury hands, Boysen reached behind a stack of towels on the counter and pulled out a small, napkin-wrapped package. He presented it to her with a bow. “And, in the spirit of teamwork, I have to show you this.”

Lyra unwrapped the package to find a frosted sugar cookie. Nothing fancy or peculiar about it, except for the frosting. Even Cardamom hadn’t produced such a brilliant shade of red in their tutoring session.

She looked at Boysen, eyebrows raised. “Where did this come from?”

He was watching her intently, his shoulders unnaturally tense. “You.”

“Me?”

“It’s from our first batch yesterday,” he explained, speaking very fast and in a deliberately even tone. “I took it with me when we visited the kitchens. I had it in my pocket, and when you sang the ‘Red’ song for Flax, I put my hand in my pocket and recited the spell. Mentally. Just to see what would happen. Later, after you left, I checked. And look!”

He pointed triumphantly at the frosting’s vivid hue. “That’s way better than it was, right? Almost as good as Genoise did in class.” Spreading his hands wide, he looked her directly in the eye, his voice suddenly serious. “It’s the music, Lyra. Singing the song out loud made all the difference.”

She stared at him. “Why didn’t you show me earlier?”

“I know you wanted to focus on the assignments.” The low, rapid fire voice was back, and Boysen didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. “I wanted us to get in a couple more good rounds today, so we could relax. And I know you’d said you didn’t want to sing out loud, so I thought… you might get mad.”

Lyra’s stomach felt like an overpowered oven. The fumes were rising up through her throat, choking her.

“You thought right,” she managed to say. “You tricked me.”

“I didn’t mean —”

“You tricked me, and you lied about it. All this time.”

“I wouldn’t call it a —”

“I told you I didn’t want to use the songs. Repeatedly.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I know, I know. I just can’t understand why. When it takes a spell to the next level like this, why wouldn’t you —”

“I told you why,” she shot back. “I gave you all my reasons.”

Boysen’s determined calm exploded.

“But your reasons are all wrong! The academy is about discovering your strengths. Your strengths, Lyra. What makes you special. And this is it. Your music could change baking forever! Why would you hide that kind of gift? Just because Cardamom says —”

Lyra couldn’t take anymore. The smoke from her overheated stomach-oven was behind her eyes, stinging and producing a wave of tears. Blinking them back as hard as she could, she whirled around and stumbled blindly to the door.

“Lyra —”

Boysen was right behind her, but she didn’t stop. She made it to the door, wrenched it open — and ran straight into Cardamom Coulis the Third, who was just raising his hand to knock.