“Who’s Queen Penelope?” Lyra whispered to Boysen as the group left the Flavor classroom.

  “No idea,” he replied.

  “Didn’t your brothers ever tell you?” Lyra persisted, following Razz upstairs to the third floor. “Or your parents?”

  He shook his head. “They talked about her, sure, but always in hushed tones. I think my parents gave my brothers strict instructions to preserve at least some of the academy’s mystery. They want all their boys to have the full first-year experience.”

  “All those who get in, of course,” Caramelle said sweetly.

  “Four out of four so far,” Ginger pointed out. “I’d say the Berry parents have cause to be confident.”

  “Didn’t your parents come here too, Caramelle?” Lyra asked.

  The auburn-haired girl tossed her head. “Of course.”

  “Did they ever mention Queen Penelope?”

  “Never. Perhaps it’s a new addition to the academy? A portrait of a royal benefactress, long deceased?”

  Ginger laughed. “Wrong on both counts, Meringue. Queen Penelope is very much alive, and she was here during my dad’s time. He told me all about her.”

  “Then who is she?” Lyra persisted.

  “Not a word!” Razz called to Ginger, apparently having overheard the whole conversation. “Your name is Crumble, right? Don’t spoil this day for me, Crumble. I’ve been looking forward to this for two long years: Poison meeting Queen Penelope. Ruin it, and I will crumble you.”

  Ginger nodded solemnly. “My lips are sealed.”

  “Traitor,” Lyra and Boysen said in unison.

  “What?” Ginger shrugged. “He’s been waiting for two years. And he threatened to turn me into a disappointing baked fruit dessert. No, thank you.”

  “I like rhubarb crumble,” Mac said suddenly. Unlike Razz, he appeared to have been only half-listening to the rest of the group. Staring at Caramelle, he went on, “But only with a meringue topping. Meringue makes everything more elegant…”

  By this time, the tour had reached the third floor. Boysen took the opportunity to ‘accidentally’ step on Mac’s foot, calling him back to reality just in time for Razz to usher them all inside the Texture classroom.

  “Behold the domain of the Puff,” Razz said grandly. “As you can see, exactly identical to the domain of the Honeycomb.”

  “But the door is blue,” Boysen observed. “The door on the Flavor classroom is green.”

  Razz applauded. “Poison knows his colors. Good boy, Poison.”

  Hyacinth silenced him with another look, then turned to the rest of the group. “I’m sure you are all aware of the baking discipline colors. The doors are the main way we differentiate among the classrooms here. Flavor is green, Texture is blue —”

  “And Presentation is purple,” Cardamom finished. “Shall we proceed to the top floor?”

  Another flight of stairs later, Lyra noted the Presentation classroom was an exact replica of its Flavor and Texture counterparts, except for two key differences. One was the bright purple door, which seemed to exude its own glow of refined luxury. The other was a display of six cupcakes arranged on the teacher’s work-station at the front of the room.

  These cupcakes were, without a doubt, the most elegant desserts Lyra had ever seen. They were all exactly identical, from the conveniently moderate size to the elaborate swirl of frosting on top. Somehow, they also all radiated the same polished air as the classroom’s purple door.

  Lyra knew at once that the primary cupcake flavor was vanilla, and that the frosting was lightly spiced with cardamom. Not only could she tell by sight, but those same baking instincts which had started speaking to her in the kitchen with Chef Flax were still awake, giving her details about any baked goods she encountered. It was an exciting development, albeit rather overwhelming. She just hoped she could learn to control it soon.

  “I’ve been experimenting with a particular category of Presentation spells,” Cardamom explained as they all gathered around the cupcakes. “The one dedicated to preserving.”

  He already had Lyra’s full attention, but at the word ‘preserving’, she leaned forward. Cakes, Magic, and You had contained very little information about the higher levels of Presentation magic. She knew preserving spells were the final step, designed to lock in all other magic and keep the food fresh, and that they were desperately tricky. That was it.

  Cardamom produced two long silver spoons from one of his apron pockets. Lyra noted rapidly that this apron, a pale lavender color to denote Cardamom as a Presentation apprentice, was as spotless as the rest of his attire. She also noticed the instruments he held resembled Professor Genoise’s, though less elaborately carved.

  “I baked these cupcakes this morning, and layered in a variety of Presentation charms.” Cardamom raised the two spoons over the cupcakes. “Now for the finishing touch.”

  Slowly at first, then with increasing speed, he began waving the spoons over the row of cupcakes. Streams of purple light instantly began pouring from the spoons. As Cardamom’s movements grew faster, the streams wove together, creating an elaborate network of shimmering magic that nearly covered the entire countertop.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  The spell went on for three solid minutes. By the end, Cardamom’s hands were moving so fast that Lyra couldn’t track their pattern. The dome of shining purple magic was so thick and bright that she could barely see the cupcakes anymore.

  Finally, Cardamom brought the two spoons together and tapped the top of the glowing purple dome. Everyone gasped and turned away, blinking at the resulting flash of light. When they could see again, they realized each cupcake was now encased in its own orb of shimmering, translucent purple radiance.

  Cardamom picked one up, and everyone gasped again. His fingers weren’t making contact with the cupcake at all. The orb itself sat in his palm, while the cupcake hovered inside, untouchable and perfect.

  “The ultimate preserving spell,” he announced in a voice brimming with pride. “Nothing can ruin this cupcake. Most of these charms only last a day or two, but I’m developing mine to last for months. Years, even. Forever is the goal.”

  He began distributing the cupcakes to the first-years, who all received them with suitably grateful awe.

  All except Boysen.

  “Can you eat it?” he asked, staring dubiously at the inaccessible dessert he’d just been handed.

  “Not while the spell lasts,” Cardamom replied. “Like I said, nothing can get through this spell. Not hands, nor utensils, nor teeth.”

  “But…” Boysen looked around at his classmates for support, but they were all engrossed by the orbs of purple magic in their hands. “Doesn’t that kind of miss the point?”

  Cardamom paused in his cupcake distribution to give Boysen a condescending smile. “Depends on what the ‘point’ of baking is for you. To me, baking is an art. I got tired of spending hours creating masterpieces that were then devoured in seconds. I decided to make something both beautiful and durable, so it can be seen and enjoyed by more people.”

  He handed the final cupcake to Lyra with a wink. “True art should be appreciated.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Caramelle said quickly.

  Boysen shook his head. “I still don’t see the point of making food that no one can actually eat.”

  “Spoken like a true Flavor nut,” Cardamom said dismissively, depositing the silver spoons back into his apron pocket.

  “Spoken like a true Berry, you mean.” Razz clapped his brother on the shoulder. “Don’t try to understand Coulis, Poison. Or any Presentation paragons. You’ll strain something.”

  “Every discipline has its own focus,” Hyacinth said calmly. “Cardamom, that was truly impressive. Thank you for the demonstration.”

  Hyacinth led the first-years in a round of applause, to which Cardamom responded with a gracious bow. Then she turned to the door, smiling at Razz. “Looks like the wait is over. Care to lead the way?”

  “Would I?” he crowed. “Follow me, firsties!”

  The group could barely keep up as Razz bounded down the hall and up the stairs, which ended at a large wooden door. The door had no lock or handle that Lyra could see. Reaching into his pale green apron, Razz pulled out his own long silver spoon and performed a series of rhythmic taps.

  The door swung open noiselessly. Stepping through, Lyra found herself on the roof of the main hall. She blinked at the influx of bright sunshine, then blinked again, hardly able to process what she was seeing.

  They had emerged inside a large glass dome that dominated the center of the roof. Lyra knew there was a dome, of course, but she had always assumed this area served as a conservatory-type lounging area, or perhaps even another greenhouse for the academy kitchens.

  This glass dome, however, was neither greenhouse nor conservatory.

  Instead, it appeared to be the residence of one enormous chicken.

  Lyra blinked a third time. Yes, that was definitely a chicken, though it was so large that Lyra didn’t see how it could move. Then again, perhaps it never had to? It certainly looked like it was comfortably settled on the raised dais at the center of the dome, surrounded by silken pillows and soft fleece blankets. Its feathers, ranging in color from bright orange to rich mahogany brown, gleamed with cleanliness and health. This was clearly a creature who wanted for nothing.

  The massive bird, which was at least five feet tall even when roosting, looked up when they entered. It made a loud squawking noise, something like a combination of a normal chicken clucking and the bellowing of a foghorn.

  Razz responded with a deep, formal bow. Then he turned to face the group, spreading his arms wide.

  “First-years, meet Queen Penelope.”

  The bird nodded regally. Lyra now saw that there was, indeed, a tiny crown on its head, as befitting of royal poultry.

  Most of the first-years copied Razz’s bow. Aniseed, however, seemed frozen in shock.

  “Queen Penelope is… a chicken?” she asked, her tone shrill with incredulity.

  Queen Penelope squawked again, at a lower pitch that resonated with displeasure.

  “Queen Penelope is not a chicken,” Razz exclaimed indignantly. “She is a treasure. A legend.” He nudged his brother. “What do you think?”

  Boysen was staring at the giant bird with wide-eyed wonder. “Better than anything I imagined.”

  “But what does it do?” Aniseed asked, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Does it lay eggs?”

  “She doesn’t have to ‘do’ anything,” Ginger said hotly. “She is a queen. Just by existing, she contributes more to this school than any stuffy Lord What’s-His-Face.”

  “And she does lay eggs.” Once again, Hyacinth stepped in before the tension could reach a breaking point. “The best eggs in the kingdom. Queen Penelope supplies all the academy’s eggs, both for baking and consumption.”

  Hyacinth went on to explain that Queen Penelope had been residing on the academy roof for as long as anyone alive could remember. No one knew how old the bird actually was, or if she even aged. Year in, year out, she produced top-quality eggs at a consistent daily rate. She required no compensation or care other than a steady diet, which the academy was glad to provide.

  “What does she eat?” Caramelle had been uncharacteristically quiet, but Lyra could tell even ‘The Meringue’ was impressed by the magical bird.

  Razz grinned. “Sweets. Cookies, cakes, pies, candied fruit — as long as it’s full of sugar, she gobbles it down. Flax keeps her well contented, but she loves gifts from students as well. Bring a sufficiently sweet tribute, and she’ll reward you with a dozen extra premium quality eggs for your own personal use. Speaking of…”

  He winked at Hyacinth, who crossed the room to kneel by the dais. Pulling a jar from her sky-blue apron pocket, she presented it to the magnificent bird.

  “Some preserves for you, Queen Penelope. Thank you again for those eggs at the end of last year. They made all the difference in my final exam custard.”

  Queen Penelope cooed graciously, then swept up the jar in one massive wing. Removing the top with surprising dexterity, she poked her beak inside. Every single feather shivered once as she made a jubilant squawking sound.

  “I think she likes it,” Razz said, giving Hyacinth another wink. “Told you.”

  Boysen turned to Lyra. “Amazing, huh?”

  Lyra nodded slowly. “Incredible. This whole place…” She sighed, her shoulders suddenly drooping.

  “What’s wrong?” Boysen asked, catching the shift in mood.

  “It’s just…” Lyra struggled to find words, resisting the impulse to sing her thoughts. “This morning has been so wonderful. Chef Flax, and Bumble and Sprinkle, and now Queen Penelope. And the baking — I got to bake! In the kitchen!”

  “At the Royal Academy of Magical Baking.” Boysen smiled. “Imagine that.”

  “I love it here,” Lyra confessed. “Already. I don’t want to leave. But tomorrow, there’s class. Including Texture.” She shuddered. “Today’s been so great, but the scary part is coming.”

  His smile widened. “Is that all? No need to fear tomorrow, Treble. Remember what we’re here to do?”

  “Become better bakers?” she suggested.

  “Exactly. We’re here to learn. Sure, tomorrow’s going to be a lot of work. So is every day after that. But work isn’t scary.” His brown eyes shone with so much cheery warmth that she couldn’t help but return his smile. “Tomorrow, Lyra… tomorrow is when the real fun begins.”