The Royal Academy of Magical Baking

Over the next few weeks, Lyra found herself increasingly grateful for the long-lasting effects of Enjoyment. Despite the looming prospect of the second term exam, and the academy board meeting one week after that, she couldn't muster up more than a mild thrill of nerves.

And she wasn't alone. Everyone who had participated in the 'all-night baking extravaganza' practically danced through the next several days. Soaking in such concentrated Enjoyment magic for so many hours seemed to outweigh all adverse effects of sleeplessness and anxiety.

The magic was even potent enough to ripple out through those who hadn't been present. Rye commented repeatedly on the change in the air of the Texture classroom during the second-years' next lab day.

"I feel like I'm breathing in… happiness," he told them right before they left for lunch.

"Does it smell like vanilla?" Boysen asked gravely, dodging as Lyra tried to poke him with a rolling pin.

Rye, however, nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, actually. It kinda does."

His fellow third-years couldn't deny the shift. Eclair scowled, Florentine glowered, but they both grudgingly acknowledged a 'discernible difference' in the academy atmosphere the week after Lyra's breakthrough. They even documented it, under the professors' watchful eyes.

"Do be sure to mention this at the board meeting, Apprentice Baker Tatin!" Professor Honeycomb sang to a grumpily writing Eclair, her cheery voice bubbling with mischievous glee.

The only sour note was Ginger. As Mac predicted, she was 'boiling' about having missed such an event. She demanded they recreate a mini version during her visit the following Friday.

Accordingly, the Puff Paragons trooped down to the academy kitchen after dinner so Lyra could demonstrate the new 'spell.' Chef Flax was just stepping out for his night off, but he changed his plans immediately.

"Of course you could bake in my absence," he said merrily, switching out his fedora for his chef's hat. "But the prospect of more Enjoyment magic is too delicious to pass up."

Bumble and Sprinkle leapt onto his shoulders, and he joined the other second-years at the counter to watch Lyra give an encore performance of 'The Cake that Changed the World.'

The Crumble's fury began evaporating at the first happy notes that sounded from Lyra's mouth. It vanished completely when the cakes went into the oven. By the time the dome of yellow light burst out of Lyra's chest, Ginger was beaming from ear to ear, fully caught up in the joy-tide coursing through the room.

"I always knew you enjoyed baking," she told Lyra afterwards, as they all enjoyed a piece of what Boysen had taken to calling 'Happiness Cake.' "In a really special way. But this…"

Ginger took a bite of cake, closed her eyes, and wriggled with delight.

"Crumble is speechless," Boysen whispered loudly. "Do the miracles of Enjoyment never cease?"

He ducked to avoid the leftover glazed boysenberry Lyra threw at his head.

They spent the rest of the evening in the kitchen to give Ginger a firsthand experience of baking with Enjoyment. As an experimental baker, she was no stranger to the 'start baking and see what happens' approach. In fact, she ended up inventing two brand-new variations on her favorite focaccia recipe, declaring all the while that she had never enjoyed baking more.

When Boysen joined her in pleading for another all-night baking extravaganza, however, Caramelle put her foot down.

"Our second term exam is one week from tomorrow," the budding Texturist said firmly. "We'll be practicing puff pastry for the rest of the weekend. And for that, we need sleep."

Ginger leaned over to whisper loudly in Boysen's ear. "The Meringue cares about sleep now? The miracles of Enjoyment really do never cease…"

They both ducked to avoid a volley of chocolate chips from Lyra.

Caramelle was right, of course. The coming exam promised to be even more difficult than the first term's, with dozens of recipes and spells to memorize. Saturday and Sunday found the second-years laboring from before dawn to nearly midnight. They rotated among their various dorm kitchens and the second floor common area for a change of scenery, pounding out so many butter blocks that Lyra's arm muscles ached perpetually.

Yet the Enjoyment miracle continued. The week before the second term exam, the new discipline's magic began showing up in all Lyra's exam practice sessions. In fact, she found she could not bake anything without producing some measure of yellow light. Even when she didn't intend to, even when she was fully focused on that moment's puff pastry spell, 'The Joy Song' always ended up making an appearance. It had settled into a continuous replay deep in her soul, able to weave itself seamlessly into any other song or charm she happened to be singing.

The effect spread through the academy. Just as the warmth of Enjoyment magic had lingered in the kitchen for days after that first session, all three classrooms became the host of transformative yellow light. Marzy and Arch reported with glee that they sensed it immediately upon entering any classroom Lyra had left.

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"It's a tingling in the nose," Arch explained when he saw Lyra outside the dining hall. "Like drinking something fizzy. It tickles."

Marzy smirked. "Chantilly pretended to have a sneezing fit, but it was really just to cover up the chuckles."

That week's lab days were particularly luminous. After so many hours of repetitive yellow light bursts in a single room, the mirth became so concentrated that every occupant left giggling. Not even Eclair and Florentine were immune, though their involuntary mirth was in a decidedly minor key.

Carried on this wave of delight, the rest of the term soared by. Lyra truly felt like she was floating a few inches off the ground. She was so giddy, she couldn't be too worried about the ongoing failure of any other baker to produce yellow light.

Neither could she fret about her lack of opportunity to talk to Boysen. The Enjoyment breakthrough had put all other concerns firmly on the back burner of her mind. With exams and board meetings and new magic to ponder, there was barely time for ordinary chats, let alone fundamental conversations that could shift the menu of their lives.

But that's fine, she told herself blithely. I can talk to him over break. We'll have loads of time.

That particular plan-bubble burst during Puff Paragon Review the night before the exam.

"When is the board meeting again, Lyra?" Ginger asked, having come to her friends' study session with moral support and apple turnovers in tow.

Lyra didn't look up from the flour and butter she was combining to form pastry dough. "One week from tomorrow. Saturday morning."

"In the middle of break?" Ginger raised an eyebrow. "That's harsh."

"It's pure thistle," Boysen grumbled, pounding out his butter block with unnecessary vigor. "I wish I could be there."

"No can be there," Caramelle reminded him. "Only the board and the Apprentice Bakers."

"What about the professors?" Ginger asked.

Caramelle shook her head. "Not even them. The academy rules are very strict about board meetings. Lyra only got invited so she can demonstrate yellow light."

"I know we can't be in the meeting." Boysen gave the butter a particularly emphatic thwack with his rolling pin. "I meant afterwards. To celebrate. I'll be out of town."

Lyra's fingers paused, buried in flour and butter. "Where are you going? And… why?"

"Some seasonings-forsaken city on the other side of the mountains," Boysen replied darkly. "It takes half a day to get there by train. But Straw and Cran are opening a restaurant there, so my whole family is going to help with the launch."

"Your brothers are opening their own restaurant?" Lyra clapped, scattering the counter and floor with buttery crumbles. "Boysen, that's amazing! Congratulations!"

Ginger joined in the applause with a hearty cheer. "The Berry family strikes again!"

Boysen grinned reluctantly. "It is great. They moved out there a year ago to stage, and they've been working like crazy. I'm happy for them."

"This is rather important news," Caramelle observed. She smiled at Boysen, though her hands did not miss a beat in their deft pastry-folding movements. "Why haven't you mentioned it before?"

"I did, a while ago." Boysen spread his arms wide to indicate the bustling kitchen. "But lately, there's been rather a lot going on."

Mac's voice was hushed with awe. "Their own restaurant… I do remember you talking about this. Back at the beginning of first term. What's it called again?"

"The Berry Brothers Bistro." Boysen rolled his eyes. "Not very original."

"The Berry name carries a great deal of weight in the baking world," Caramelle said. "And 'bistro' adds a touch of flair."

"Their menu is pretty impressive," Boysen admitted. "They've been developing it for as long as I can remember. It's seasonal, with signature drink pairings for each dish."

Lyra smiled. "Let me guess. A special emphasis on strawberry cordial and cranberry punch?"

Boysen rolled his eyes again. "You got it. Berries of all sorts, in lavish abundance."

"It sounds wonderful," Lyra insisted, returning to her pastry dough. "And your whole family gets to go? That will mean so much to them."

"And they'll appreciate the help, I'm sure," Caramelle added.

"You'll have to take notes for me." Mac was staring off into space, his hands frozen halfway through his pastry dough's second turning. "Especially on the Presentation. The table settings, the food, the lighting…"

"I just want some of the food," Ginger said. "Your brothers learned from your mom, so anything they make is sure to be scrumptious."

Boysen sighed. "I know. And I am glad we get to be there for the launch. It's going to be great. I just wish it could be great at another time. We're leaving right after the exam tomorrow."

Lyra's fingers paused again. "You'll miss the end-of-term feast?"

"And we don't get back until the day before third term starts." Boysen set aside his rolling pin and looked at her apologetically. "I hate that I'm missing the board meeting, Lyra. I really do."

"It's okay," she said brightly, trying to ignore the sinking sensation in her gut. "We'll tell you all about it when you get back."

"And Lyra won't be alone," Caramelle promised.

"Certainly not." Ginger handed Boysen a large apple turnover. "We'll make sure she's taken care of. Why don't you all come to my parents' shop afterwards? Debrief and party, all in one. With pastry."

Mac whimpered. "More pastry?"

"Free pastry," Ginger corrected him. "That you don't have to make."

"Oh, thank the seasonings." Mac patted his own perspiring forehead with a corner of his apron. "Then that sounds grand, Ginger."

"It does," Caramelle agreed. "Your parents won't mind?"

Ginger chuckled as she chose a turnover for herself. "Please. To host the pioneer of Enjoyment, Lyra Treble? They'll be pleased as parsnips. They've been wanting you all to see the shop anyway."

"I want to see the shop," Boysen protested.

"You will eventually, Berry. Eat your turnover." Ginger turned to Lyra. "What do you think, Treble? Gather at Crumble Corner Pastry after the board meeting for victory croissants?"

"That would be lovely," Lyra replied.

She hoped her smile didn't look too forced, but it was the best she could do. Her gut still felt like it was sinking. The sensation put a strain on all her internal music, which had been flowing so jubilantly for the past two weeks. The Berry melody, in particular, sounded heavier and more jangled in her mind's ear than it had since before the yellow light appeared.

What was it Ginger said? she thought as she slowly added water to her flour-butter mixture. 'Unspoken feelings are like air bubbles in cake batter. Let the mixing process go on too long, and the bubbles build up all sneaky-like. Then, once they pop…'

Lyra's insides suddenly did feel rather too much like a slowly collapsing cake.

She frowned, realizing she had added far too much water. The pastry dough was ruined. Putting it aside sharply, she reached for another bowl, arguing with herself all the while.

It's not too late. Enjoyment manifesting was a huge pressure release for all of us. I think our heart-kitchens are stable enough to wait another couple weeks…

Boysen sighed dejectedly as he folded pastry dough over his butter block and turned it. Ignoring the effect of that sigh on her own inner music, Lyra measured out a new round of flour with Meringue-ish determination.

It would be fine. Enjoyment had many miracles left to work.

At least, she hoped so.