Lyra glanced at Boysen, who was trying hard not to look self-conscious. He was failing.

  She grinned at him, then at Mrs. Berry, and said, “He made the term wonderful for us. I don’t think I would have survived the first week without the Whisk Whiz Review, let alone all the weeks that followed.”

  “He does have a gift for bringing different elements together.” Mrs. Berry stood on her tiptoes to ruffle her son’s hair fondly. “Flavors, and also people. Razz has more technical know-how, but Boysen has the gift.”

  Boysen turned the color of his brother Razz’s berry namesake. “Thanks, Mom.”

  She tweaked his ear, then turned back to her guests. “Now, let’s see. Macaron Fondant, yes?”

  Mac smiled, his customary shyness evaporating in the warmth of Mrs. Berry’s welcome. “That’s me.”

  “Roommates are a crucial part of your first year,” Mrs. Berry said. “They can make or break a term. Thank you for making this term a great one for my son, Macaron.”

  “The pleasure’s all mine,” Mac said grandly. “And please, call me Mac.”

  “Mac it is. And this must be Ginger Crumble.”

  “Guilty,” Ginger grinned. “How’d you know?”

  Mrs. Berry winked. “You have your dad’s nose. He came in during my second year at the academy. I was so sorry to see him go at the end of that year. He was a fantastic baker. I trust he’s still at it?”

  “Oh yes,” Ginger assured her. “Has his own little pastry shop across town. We live above it.”

  “Meaning he took the downstairs of your home and turned it into a public bakery?” Mrs. Berry chuckled. “Sounds about right. Your mother must be a most understanding woman.”

  “She loves it,” Ginger said. “She never made it to the academy, but she specialized in icing at a different school. He bakes, she decorates. They make a good team.”

  “That’s like Mom and Dad,” Boysen said. “They have their own restaurant. But it’s a couple blocks over, not in our house.”

  “And we don’t have those lovely complementary strengths.” Mrs. Berry sighed. “I am a Flavor nerd, and I married a Flavor nerd. We produced six other Flavor nerds. It’s all ‘gut’ in this household. Rather one-note.”

  Ginger laughed. “You don’t make it through the academy without being strong in all three principles. I’m sure you’re amazing at Texture and Presentation, too.”

  “She is,” Boysen affirmed.

  “And so is Mr. Berry,” Mac added. “My family goes to their restaurant at least once a month. Not a bad thing on the menu. The Berrys make a great team.”

  Mrs. Berry curtsied, then turned to Lyra. “And speaking of good teams, you must be Lyra Treble. I’m sure Boysen told you we’ve been to see your family perform many times?”

  “He did,” Lyra said with a smile. “So you understand that the Trebles know all about a ‘one-note’ household. All music, all the time.”

  “Until you,” Mrs. Berry pointed out. “Really, it staggers me to think of it. To get into the Royal Academy of Magical Baking without any extra help or formal training? You are remarkable, my dear.”

  Lyra felt like she had entered a blushing contest with Boysen. And she was winning. She managed to keep her voice level as she stammered a thank-you.

  Mrs. Berry was still shaking her head in awe. “Unprecedented. In my lifetime, at least. Your parents must be very proud.”

  “Shocked is more like it,” Lyra confessed. “They thought baking was my hobby, right up until the end. To be honest, I think they’d be happier if I just stuck with the Any Weather Bards.”

  Boysen’s right eyebrow rose. “Even now? When you’ve made it through the first cut?”

  Lyra nodded. “They keep asking if I’m sure I want to go back.”

  “But that’s — just — that’s wrong!” Boysen exclaimed. “Don’t they know how amazing you are? How special this is?”

  “Hush,” Mrs. Berry said, laying a hand on her son’s arm. “It’s a hard thing for a parent to see their child grow and change, especially if that change takes them outside the family circle quicker than we’d like. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if one of you boys wanted to do something other than baking.”

  Boysen was still fuming. “You’d support us, of course.”

  “Hopefully. Eventually. But it would be difficult.” Mrs. Berry squeezed his arm. Then, suddenly, she wrapped Lyra in a hug. “I’m sure your parents are very proud of you.”

  Lyra was torn between the desire to break down into tears or giggle from sheer delight. Mrs. Berry’s embrace was like being inside a loaf of bread, fresh from the oven and nourishing and so wonderfully warm.

  She settled for returning the hug and whispering, “Thank you.”

  Mrs. Berry pulled away, dotting at her eyes with her apron. “Pleasure having you in our home, dear. All of you.” She clapped her hands, rubbing them together in a way that reminded Lyra forcibly of Professor Honeycomb. “Well! Let’s all sit down, then. Don’t want the food to get cold.”

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  When the three guests were arranged on the benches, she employed Boysen to help her carry dishes to the table. First came a giant cauldron of stew, heartily full of meat and vegetables in a rich, creamy broth. The intoxicating curlicues of steam were still glowing a bright green, revealing that a high-level Flavor spell was in effect. Then came a massive bowl of salad, followed by two loaves of sourdough bread. Lyra didn’t need the faint shimmer of royal blue disappearing into the loaves to tell her the Texture would be light and joyfully springy. There were two cutting boards with different kinds of cheeses, three different varieties of herb butter, and an assortment of pickles and olives.

  Lyra surveyed the table, her heart shining in the reflected warmth of that spread. It was all simple fare, lacking any of the fancy finishing touches so valued by Professor Genoise and Cardamom. Yet, Presentation magic was definitely at work. No streams of purple light emanated from the food, but the whole table seemed to glow like a cozy hearth fire. It was like Mrs. Berry had distilled all the comfort of ‘home’ into a chant and cast it over the entire kitchen. Every sight, sound, smell, and touch was like a mini-hug, and Lyra could only believe taste would be the same.

  She breathed in deeply. What was it Boysen had said about his deficiency in Presentation, way back during that first Whisk Whiz Review?

  “Professor Genoise was being generous when he said my style is welcoming. ‘Homey’ would be a better word.”

  Lyra shook her head at the memory of his gloomy tone.

  ‘Homey’ is nothing to be ashamed of, she thought as Mrs. Berry brought over a platter of fresh fruit. It’s something to aspire to.

  “Save room for dessert,” Mrs. Berry warned, taking her place at the head of the table. “Mr. Berry made it with me this morning. He very kindly agreed to cover the restaurant tonight so I could host you all, but he is thoroughly glum about missing it. He made me promise to tell you that his presence is with us in dessert form, and that you’d best partake so he can feel like he participated.”

  “Deal,” the friends chorused.

  “First, a toast.” Mrs. Berry raised a glass of cider, and all followed suit. “To the Whisk Whiz Review!”

  “The Whisk Whiz Review,” everyone echoed, taking a sip of the deliciously crisp cider. Then they dug into the food with all the goodwill of culinary minded teenagers.

  “This stew,” Mac said dreamily. “The memory of it will sustain me for many a long, stressful day next term.”

  Lyra fervently agreed, then turned to where Boysen was seated on her right. “Did you make the stew?”

  He shook his head. “Mom wouldn’t let me make anything.”

  “That’s right,” Mrs. Berry said firmly. “No baking on break. That’s the household rule for academy students.”

  Mac stared at her blankly. “No baking… at all?”

  “Baking is like exercise. Each principle uses a different set of ‘muscles’, so to speak,” Mrs. Berry explained. “If you push the muscles nonstop, they stop growing, and fatigue sets in. Best case, you plateau. Worst case, you hurt yourself. I know how intense a workout the academy can be. That’s why no Berry boy does any baking between terms.”

  “She’s serious.” Boysen sighed. “They even put a padlock on my shed out back.”

  Mrs. Berry sipped her cider, unperturbed. “There will be plenty of time for your experiments at the end of the year, Boysen.”

  “She’s right.” Lyra patted Boysen’s hand. “At least it gives you a reason to look forward to going back to school.”

  “Another reason,” Boysen corrected her. He winked. “I’ve got plenty.”

  “This bread is amazing, Mrs. Berry,” Ginger gushed. “How did you keep it so light? I knew you must be a Texture genius.”

  Mrs. Berry smiled ruefully. “Not a genius. Just a hard worker. Flavor always came easy to me, but Texture… let’s just say I spent many an hour practicing spells in that lab, and many hours in my own kitchen since.”

  “That’s encouraging, really,” Lyra said. “That you can get this good by working hard. Putting in the hours. It’s good to remember that it’s not all down to innate talent.”

  Mac nodded. “I was a Texture disaster at first. Still am, sometimes. It’s hit or miss.”

  “But you’re putting in the work.” Boysen high-fived him from across the table. “And you’ve been recognized by Professor Puff more than once as a result.”

  “Thanks to you,” Mac said. “All of you, really. The Whisk Whizzes.” He turned to Mrs. Berry. “Lyra’s been setting all the spells and charms to music, to help us memorize them. It’s made a huge difference.”

  Beside him, Ginger spoke up, “All hail Lyra Treble and her bard baking skills!”

  “Hear, hear!” Boysen joined the silent clapping, then nudged Lyra with his elbow. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with next term. We’re taking Whisk Whiz Review to a whole new level.”

  “Absolutely,” Lyra said, but her heart sank when she remembered that Cardamom’s tutoring sessions meant she’d miss two out of every five review sessions.

  But that’s a good thing, she argued. I’m getting some extra help. They’ll be happy for me.

  She struggled one moment longer, then took a deep breath.

  “Next term is going to be a little different for me, actually. In a good way, I think. I hope.”

  “Different how?” Ginger asked. “Other than the incredible gift of having me as a roommate.”

  Lyra smiled. “A gift, indeed. I’m… well, Cardamom came to see me Saturday night. After the feast.”

  “Cardamom Coulis?” Mrs. Berry asked, her right eyebrow rising just like Boysen’s. “The Third?”

  “That’s the one.” Lyra focused on selecting a piece of cheese from the cutting board. “He talked to Professor Genoise, and they agreed that he should tutor me privately next term.”

  “Professor Genoise is going to tutor you?” Mac asked.

  “No,” Lyra clarified. “Cardamom.”

  Five full seconds of silence followed. Lyra tried to ignore it, taking a bite of cheese and chewing far longer than was necessary.

  “Tutoring you… how?” Ginger asked finally. “And when?”

  “In Presentation, Wednesday and Thursday nights,” Lyra answered. “After dinner.”

  Boysen’s voice was very even. “So you’ll miss our review those nights.”

  “Afraid so.” Lyra looked around, forcing a laugh. “Come on, all of you! Professor Genoise thinks I have potential. I’ll still be with you the other three nights of the week, and I’ll be able to pass on everything I’m learning from Cardamom.”

  “Not everything,” Ginger muttered under her breath.

  Lyra stared at her. “Huh?”

  “Never mind.” It was Ginger’s turn to force a smile. She reached across the table to give Lyra an awkward, but genuine, high-five. “Presentation training! Maybe you’ll be able to give Mac a run for his money.”

  “Ah yes,” Mrs. Berry said, apparently eager to change the subject. “From what I hear, you’re quite a Presentation virtuoso, Mac.”

  Mac looked down, but he was smiling. “Professor Genoise called my style ‘majestic.’ Caramelle was the ‘virtuosic’ one.”

  Another few beats of silence followed the mention of Lyra’s former roommate. Lyra glanced up to see that Mrs. Berry was watching her son keenly. Boysen had gone still. The air around him felt thick, heavier than the stew and yet vibrating at some unpleasantly dissonant frequency.

  “Well, your Presentation Majesty Fondant,” Mrs. Berry said, turning the attention back to Macaron. “Mr. Berry will be eager for your notes on his four-tiered sticky toffee gateau. I’ll bring it out once we clear all this away, and you can give me your opinion to pass on to him.”

  Mac gave some humble affirmative, and the meal resumed, Mrs. Berry maintaining a steady flow of cheerful chatter.

  Lyra kept eating automatically. It was hard to enjoy the food with Boysen silently vibrating beside her, but she pressed ahead, determined to recapture the comfortable ease of the evening.

  He’s just annoyed about the Whisk Whizzes, she told herself in between bites of stew, cheese, and bread. But I’ll be there more than half the time. It doesn’t have to be that different. Nothing important is going to change.

  But something about that out-of-tune frequency at which Boysen was vibrating told her otherwise.

  Everything was about to change.