The Royal Academy of Magical Baking

Lyra's insides felt like a blender set to 'puree' as she watched Ginger return to her work-station. Emotions tumbled around, bumping up against each other and refusing to mix cleanly. Lyra could barely even name them all.

She was devastated about Ginger leaving. She was equally annoyed with Ginger for refusing to follow the professors' instructions. Then she felt guilty for being annoyed, and angry at herself for not trying harder to talk some sense into her roommate.

The swirling only intensified as the professors called Mac up to the platform. Lyra struggled to pay attention. She was dimly aware of Professor Honeycomb praising Mac's Flavor progress, and urging him to be a little bolder with the coffee. She caught a few phrases of calmly effusive affirmation from Professor Puff. She didn't need to hear Professor Genoise gushing to know Mac's Presentation style was as 'majestic' as ever. The cake was shining brightly enough to push back the darkness of the gathering storm outside.

Their only critique, as far as Lyra could understand through the emotional haze, was that he seemed a little distracted. Each spell had been missing that extra degree of heightened focus which marked the most professional high-end bakers. Otherwise, though, all three professors pronounced the cake 'a triumph.'

Poor Mac, Lyra thought dully, watching him bow and carry his triumph-cake back to his counter. This should be a great moment. But no one can focus. Not even him.

The 'distracted' label was obviously an ongoing reality. Mac's eyes kept darting around, from Caramelle to Lyra to Ginger, full of sorrowful concern. True, they lingered longest and returned most often to Caramelle, but Lyra knew he cared about all of them. He was probably also thinking about Queen Penelope. He'd done more for the royal chicken than the rest of them put together.

Lyra sighed. If it was possible for a cake to be 'too right', then it made sense for Macaron Fondant to be 'too good.' They didn't deserve him. Lyra sure didn't, anyway.

And speaking of friends Lyra didn't deserve…

Boysen's evaluation was as beautiful and uplifting as his cake. The professors had clearly wanted to end the day on a high note. Professor Genoise was especially impressed by the vibrant colors Boysen had been able to achieve, saying repeatedly that Master Brulée himself would be jealous of the vivid blue and even richer yellow. Professor Puff's placid exterior warmed by several degrees as she insisted on shaking Boysen's hand three separate times.

Professor Honeycomb couldn't say anything. She actually broke down weeping when Professor Puff asked her about Boysen's use of Flavor magic. But they were obviously tears of joy, which was definitely better than any words she might have employed.

Lyra's heart began to lift slowly as she watched. It was always difficult to be sad for long around Boysen, especially when he was in full baker-mode. It was like watching Sprinkle tend the greenhouse, or hearing the Any Weather Bards sing together. Whenever he was completely immersed in baking, Boysen took off soaring and swept everyone in the vicinity along with him.

'I belong here,' he seemed to be saying. 'And so do you. Let's relax and stay a while.'

Lyra knew she wasn't the only one being caught up in the Berry spell. She could feel her fellow first-years sitting up and leaning forward, tension easing ever so slightly from their shoulders. Even the air in the room brightened noticeably, though the clouds were still getting heavier outside.

By the time Professor Genoise awarded Boysen the Stellar Enchantment Pin, everyone was able to join in a round of applause. Ginger's cheers were actually the loudest and most enthusiastic. This surprised Lyra, though perhaps not as much as Caramelle's politely fervent clapping.

Then, at last, the second term final exam was over.

Lyra tried to make a beeline for Ginger, but Professor Genoise's voice rose imperiously over the bustle.

"Aspiring Baker Crumble! A word, if you please?"

Ginger caught Lyra's eye and nodded. Lyra understood the silent message. They would see each other back at Zester later.

Lyra looked around for Mac, but he was already gone. So was Caramelle. Lyra could only imagine what The Meringue must be feeling… not that Lyra cared. Caramelle wouldn't want comfort, even if Lyra had any to give.

Besides, her next priority was Boysen.

She waited until he managed to extricate himself from Professor Honeycomb's tearful affirmations, then fell into step beside him as he hurried towards the door.

"Congratulations, Flavor King."

He was redder than the frosting ribbon on Lyra's cake, but he was also smiling. "Thanks. I didn't realize it would go that well."

"You need to start putting a warning label on your creations," Lyra teased. "Is Honeycomb still crying?"

Boysen glanced back over his shoulder and quickened his pace. Once they were safely out of the exam hall, he sighed. "Afraid so. I don't think it's necessarily just about my cake, though. She kept going on about my mom, and my brothers, and legacy…"

"And your cake," Lyra insisted. "You can't wriggle out of it. That cake is a work of genius. I can't wait to try it."

"Thanks," he said again. Then he stopped, pulling her aside off the stone walkway. "Seriously, thank you. I couldn't have made that cake without you."

Lyra tried to laugh. "But you did, silly. For the final entrance exam, and for the first term final."

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"I couldn't have made that cake." Boysen took off his chef's hat and stared at the shiny new pin Professor Genoise had attached. "A Stellar Enchantment-worthy cake. That was all because of working with you this term."

"Stop it." Lyra shook her head. "You don't have to lie to make me feel better. I'll be fine. Just enjoy your win, okay?"

"It's the songs," Boysen said, his voice rising. "The songs you wrote for the color charms, and the deepening spell, and all the Texture magic. The songs you heard from each Flavor. Whenever I bake, they're in my head. The whole time."

The emotional blender inside Lyra kicked into instant high gear. "You… you used music? In the exam?"

"No. That's not…" Boysen clenched his fists, apparently unaware that he was still holding his pristine chef's hat. "I didn't cheat, if that's what you mean. I still don't think using the songs is cheating, but whatever. I didn't use them. Not consciously. But they're just… there, okay? They're in my head. When I bake, I hear them. And when I hear them, I think of you. And that makes me happy, so whatever I'm baking is automatically better. That's all."

Lyra couldn't say anything. The blender was still going, but it seemed to be sucking all the sound from her mind, leaving her mind defenseless against Boysen's words. They echoed through her suddenly silent brain like thunder.

At the same moment, actual thunder boomed overhead, and the heavy clouds released their first drops of rain.

"The songs help, Lyra," Boysen said softly. "They helped me. So… thank you."

Then he ran towards the dorms, leaving her rooted to the ground in the gathering storm.

Another clap of thunder shook Lyra from her reverie. Realizing she was close to the main hall, she darted inside to get out of the rain. Her feet kept moving automatically. Before she knew it, she was back at the Presentation classroom where she had spent so much of her time this term.

Lyra drifted over to her usual work-station. Perching on the stool, she stared out at the storm through the large windows. The roiling clouds were a fitting reflection of her swirling insides. But while the thunder and rain were operating at high volume, her emotional blender was still deafeningly quiet.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been sitting there when a noise at the door made her turn. There, striding purposefully into the classroom, was Cardamom Coulis the Third.

"Cardamom!" she exclaimed. "Looking for me?"

He froze, then shook his head and kept moving. "No, actually. I left some of my notes here yesterday. Want to have them with me over break."

Without looking at her, he crossed to the teacher's work-station and pulled open a drawer.

"Have you heard?" she asked, watching him rifle through parchment.

"Yes. Professor Genoise just told me." Again, he paused, shook his head, and continued searching through the drawer's contents. "I don't understand it."

"Me neither," Lyra confessed. "It doesn't make any sense."

Cardamom didn't reply. He still hadn't looked at her. Pulling a stack of papers from the drawer, he rolled them up and tucked them neatly into his apron pocket. Then he closed the drawer and started for the door.

"Maybe we can figure it out when we get together over break?" Lyra called, raising her voice over the storm. "Make a plan for next term?"

Finally, he turned to look at her, one eyebrow delicately raised. "Over break?"

"For dinner," she stammered. "You said —"

"That was meant to be a victory celebration." His normally rich voice sounded flat and hard. "There isn't really anything to celebrate, is there?"

"I… No. I guess not."

"And I don't think we should continue the tutoring sessions," Cardamom went on. "This term was an experiment, of sorts. It didn't work. Best not to waste any more time on it. Especially since I have to prepare for graduation."

Lyra couldn't speak. She couldn't even nod.

He gave her a subdued version of his signature dazzling smile. "Have a good vacation, Lyra."

With that, he was gone, his clipped footsteps echoing down the empty hallway.

Lyra sat on her stool, waiting for the emotional blender in her chest to start making sounds. Surely, if ever there was an occasion for raw noise, this was it.

… Nothing.

The strange silence that had descended upon her insides during the exam persisted. It was oppressive. Lyra felt like she was smothering.

Her feet started moving automatically again. They carried her from the Presentation classroom, down the many flights of stairs, and out of the main hall. The pouring rain made them break into a run. Soon, she was pushing through the front door of the dorm building and across the foyer into the first-floor common area.

"Roomie!" Ginger was coming out of Zester. She greeted Lyra with a wide grin. "I was wondering where you'd gone. I'm meeting Mac at Queen Penelope's. I think Boysen's there, too. Care to join us?"

Lyra stared at her. "You're… fine?"

"Finer than confectioner's sugar," Ginger affirmed. "How are you? It was a rough day for the girls, all 'round."

"I'm… that's… how are you fine?" Lyra asked, a little desperately. "You got cut from the academy."

Ginger shrugged. "Sure, it's disappointing. I would have loved another term. But the academy and I aren't a good fit. Best to know that now."

"What about innovation?" Lyra demanded. "Isn't the academy supposed to be 'an incubator for creativity?' Aren't you mad at Professor Genoise?"

"Oh, he's all right." Ginger chuckled. "More than all right. He's a good sort. I think we finally understand each other."

Lyra just looked at her blankly.

"We had a nice talk," Ginger went on. "After the exam. He really is impressed with my potential. Said he sometimes wished the academy rules weren't so strict, so we could have more room to explore. But tradition is a tricky thing. Sometimes you have to choose between stability and freedom. The academy chose stability a long time ago. I can understand that."

"But —"

"And he wants to keep teaching me." Ginger's smile widened. "I won't be an academy student anymore, but I can come on the weekends for private lessons. He wants to work with me on some of my new spell ideas. Maybe even get Chef Flax involved. So you don't have to miss me too much! I can probably come to Whisk Whiz Recreation on Fridays, if the group doesn't mind."

"If the group doesn't mind?" Lyra jabbed Ginger's shoulder. "You're part of the group. We want you here whenever you can be here." Suddenly, she threw her arms around her friend. "Sharps and flats, I'm going to miss you."

Ginger returned the hug, burying her face in Lyra's shoulder. "Same."

They stood there silently for a moment. Then Ginger stepped back, wiping her eyes.

"Salts!" she exclaimed. "I promised myself I wasn't going to be one of those bakers. Don't tell the boys, please? Mac has already cried enough for both of us. I'd prefer not to set him off again."

"Deal." Lyra smiled through her own tears. "I'm just… glad you're okay. I don't understand it, but I'm glad."

"It's just baking, after all." Ginger looked around the room where they had spent so many hours, studying and practicing and laughing and practicing some more. "I love it, but it's not all I love."

"It's just food," Lyra said slowly, Boysen's words from first term pealing through her mind like a magical chime calling for the end of class. "We're just making food for people to eat."

Ginger nodded. "Exactly. And I'm going to keep doing it, here and home and everywhere I can." She took off her apron, rolled it up, and tossed it into a corner. "But for now, I'm going to do the eating bit. Mac has made a gorgeous tray of goodies to share with Queen Penelope, to celebrate end of term. You coming?"

Lyra heard something rising up at the back of her mind. It started softly, getting louder at a gentle pace, gradually pushing back the day's heavy silence.

It was a sound. A sweet sound, unassuming and steady and with just a pinch of the unexpected and new.

If she listened carefully, it almost sounded like the beginning of a song.

"Absolutely, I'm coming." Lyra smiled. "But not just to eat. Let me get my guitar. I think Queen Penelope would enjoy a concert."