Lyra felt strangely still on the inside as she put the cakes in the cooling drawer and whipped up a shiny vanilla glaze. The inner silence persisted while she coated a few dozen boysenberries with the glaze and set them aside. Even when she scooped out some frosting into two smaller bowls for coloring, her mind stayed unusually quiet.

  It wasn’t a jittery kind of silence. That was what made it so odd. She had no doubt regarding her abilities in this section of the exam. It was just strange to be brimming with such confidence without any desire to burst into song.

  I guess I’m really starting to think like a baker.

  Because she was a baker. Not a bard pretending to be a baker, but a true practitioner of baking magic. What was it Cardamom had said? ‘Better than best’?

  Yes. Better than best.

  The inner quiet was odd, but pleasant. It provided a soothing background while Lyra held her hand over one of the bowls and recited Master Brulée’s Coloring Charm for ‘red.’ A flare of purple Presentation magic burst from her fingertips, sinking into the uncolored frosting and turning it a pale crimson.

  No distracting melodies. No musical training wheels to prop her up. Just the spell, working like it was supposed to.

  Lyra smiled grimly and started again.

  Working with Cardamom, she had discovered it took four repetitions of the ‘red’ charm to achieve the desired shade. She moved through them deftly and set the bowl aside, then steeled herself for the difficulties of ‘pink.’

  When Lyra designed her entrance exam cake all those months ago, she had no idea of the problems she was creating for her future self. Red and pink roses seemed straightforward enough. ‘Red’ was the most basic of Master Brulée’s Coloring Charms. Shouldn’t ‘pink’ just be a lighter version of ‘red’?

  Apparently not. Cardamom had been downright offended when Lyra innocently suggested this strategy at their Wednesday night tutoring session.

  “Every color has its own personality,” he’d insisted, eyes flashing with indignation on behalf of pastels everywhere. “Master Brulée understood that. He identified twelve different hues of ‘pink’ and wrote a charm for each of them.”

  That had kicked off the laborious process of choosing the right shade of pink to fit Lyra’s vision. After a long debate, ‘dusky rose’ was agreed upon as the most suitable candidate. Only then did Lyra discover that Master Brulée had shown great restraint in crafting the five basic color charms she knew so well.

  The ‘dusky rose’ charm was a doozy.

  It wasn’t a matter of complex equations or tempo shifts like Texture was. Master Brulée had believed the key to more nuanced colors was layering. That meant reciting the spell in a continuous round, over and over and over, until the exact shade ‘bloomed’ before your eyes. If one paused, even for an instant, or stumbled over the words mentally, then the charm fizzled out and had to be started again from the beginning.

  Lyra found this intensity of sustained concentration surprisingly troublesome. It was somehow worse than the proofing spell for Texture that took half an hour to recite. Even with Cardamom beside her for inspiration and solidarity, by the end of Wednesday’s session, she hadn’t been able to get further than a halfhearted ‘blush’ color. She had returned to Zester that night in a state of near panic.

  Thankfully, all three professors had devoted the entire week’s class time to exam prep. After a full day of practice in Thursday’s Presentation lab, again with Cardamom’s constant supervision, Lyra felt sufficiently pleased with her ‘dusky rose’ frosting performance.

  It would have been easier without the melody her brain had instantly composed for the new color charm. The tune erupted in her mind whenever she started thinking about ‘dusky rose.’ Exam time was no exception. As soon as Lyra began Master Brulée’s charm, the song arrived, shattering the oh-so-professional inner silence she had been enjoying. It kept singing at the edge of every thought, offering its assistance and insight regarding the quirks of this particular hue. Lyra was hard-pressed to keep her mental recitation from relaxing into the song’s cadence.

  Even worse, the song perfectly expressed the essence of Lyra’s brother Canto. She could clearly picture all the facets of his personality weaving around each other with every note. The layers of color produced by the charm could easily be layers of Canto, piling his tenor voice and mad cello skills on top of his family loyalty and love of painting to create a winsome whole. Complex, yet comforting. Just like dusky rose…

  STOP it, Treble!

  Lyra paused for a moment to make sure she hadn’t actually shouted that command out loud. Then she wiped her hands on her apron and took a deep breath, wishing fervently she had never shared those color charm personality songs with Boysen. It had carved pathways in her mind that were challenging to reroute.

  Banishing all thoughts of brothers, personality songs, and music in general, Lyra held her hands over the bowl and began the mental recitation.

  It didn’t go smoothly. She had to toss out a few batches and start over until the right shade of pink was achieved. Thankfully, she had made a triple batch of frosting to begin with, for this very purpose. Thursday’s practice sessions had taught her that lesson the hard way.

  With her two colors of frosting complete, Lyra turned her focus to the last and objectively most difficult part of the exam: Master Glaze’s Shine Spell.

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  At the advanced level.

  She would have chosen this spell even if Cardamom hadn’t recommended it so strongly. Master Glaze’s Shine Spell was an absolute cornerstone in high-end Presentation baking. Besides, Caramelle’s betrayal at the end of the first term had given a sour note to Madame Temper’s Chant of Precision in Lyra’s mind.

  Lyra also felt the need to prove that she was capable of top-tier magic like Master Glaze’s work. She needed to prove it to Professor Genoise, and to Cardamom. She needed to prove it to Caramelle.

  She needed to prove it to herself.

  Cardamom had been working with her on this spell throughout the term, gradually coaching her through the beginner and intermediate levels. They had only started practicing ‘advanced’ two weeks ago, but Cardamom insisted Lyra could handle it for the exam.

  “Remember, it’s a competition,” he told her at the beginning of Wednesday night’s session. “Everyone else will be doing at least the intermediate level, and you need to stand out. Just getting through isn’t enough. We’re not settling for anything less than that Stellar Enchantment Pin. Right?”

  Lyra had nodded, tightened her scarf around her hair, and set to work.

  Now, standing in the exam hall, she followed the same sequence of actions. Master Glaze’s spell was unique among Presentation magic. Most charms in this discipline were applied at the end of the baking process, throwing a special sheen over the completed decoration. Others, like Madame Temper’s Chant of Precision, had to be cast over the materials before any decorating occurred.

  Master Glaze’s Shine Spell had to be recited throughout.

  It was rather like The Soufflé Sisters Cooperation Chant, in a way. The baker had to recite the spell over and over, as many rounds as it took to fill the decorating time. It was important to maintain a consistent internal tempo.

  Still, Lyra found Master Glaze’s approach easier than Madames Honey and Rose’s. The Cooperation Chant had to sink deep into the core of the Flavors, merging them into a new whole that would permeate the entire dish. The charm depended on the baker’s concentration and purposeful intent.

  The Shine Spell was not so… profound. It was Presentation, after all. Even the most complex Presentation spells were only concerned with the final product’s outer layer.

  Just keep going. Lyra repeated Cardamom’s instructions as she held her palette knife poised over the largest bowl of frosting. Even if you stumble over a word, move on. Master Glaze is an expert. Let his words carry you, and you’ll be fine.

  Lyra took a deep breath. Then she dipped her palette knife into the bowl, mentally reciting the first words of the Shine Spell in the same moment.

  Ice cracks, bone breaks

  Cloth tears, earth shakes

  Glass shatters, mountains fall

  Diamond stands: stronger than all

  It had taken Lyra a while to get used to Master Glaze’s writing. She understood the general structure of the spell, with each verse listing a different gem to imbue the idea of ‘shine.’ Still, the images felt a bit violent for a Presentation spell, whose sole purpose was to make food prettier.

  Fire burns, gold gleams

  Sun blinds, star beams

  Mirror dazzles, but on light’s throne

  Rubies sparkle: brilliant, alone

  The meter was also a bit off. Master Glaze was no poet.

  She hadn’t dared voice these ideas to Cardamom, of course. Master Glaze was one of his personal heroes.

  When Professor Genoise first introduced this spell to the class, he had invited his assistant to speak. Cardamom had waxed so eloquently about Master Glaze’s ‘inimitable genius’ that Ginger wasn’t able to contain an audible snigger. Lyra shot her roommate a withering look and promised herself she would always show Cardamom — and Master Glaze — the proper respect.

  Now, watching purple light stream effortlessly from her hands, Lyra had to admit both gentlemen knew what they were about.

  The Shine Spell was dazzlingly effective. The magic tingled against her fingers as she spread the first coat of white frosting on each tier, disappearing into the cakes with a bright purple shimmer. The stream of light grew even brighter with the second coat, then practically danced as she stacked the tiers and began piping red and pink roses.

  Lyra entered into the ‘amethyst’ verse with a smile. Master Glaze may have been deficient as a poet, but his Presentation mastery was undeniable.

  True, the process was laborious. The carefully maintained silence in Lyra’s mind was heavier than song. The words of Master Glaze’s spell dragged on and on in a monotonous litany of jewel descriptions. Every second seemed to take twice as long to pass. She didn’t remember the arrangement of glazed boysenberries being quite so dreadfully tedious in the first term final exam.

  Lyra was actually relieved when Professor Genoise’s voice rang out imperiously across the hall.

  “Time’s up, Aspiring Bakers!”

  Wiping sticky hands on her thoroughly smudged apron, Lyra stepped back to survey her work. The frosting colors gleamed vibrantly, vivid red and dusky rose standing out against the smooth white base. Her piping skills had improved over the past two terms. The red ribbon around the top and bottom of each tier was so straight and even, it looked like she’d used a tracer. Clusters of tiny ‘dusky rose’ flowers dotted the ribbon at exact intervals. The clump of pink and red roses atop the cake was a true crowning glory, complete with shiny glazed boysenberry ‘gems.’

  The last ripples of purple magic were still swirling around the cake. As Lyra watched, the light sank into each tier, starting with the bottom and ending at the crown of roses. Yet though the purple sparkles vanished, they left a shimmering radiance in their wake: the unmistakable glow of a successful Presentation spell.

  Lyra’s shoulders slumped in relief and exhaustion. She had never, ever been this tired. Even if she hadn’t been working hard all term to guard her brain against music, she couldn’t possibly have found the strength to sing.

  The professors were already making their rounds. Lyra simply sat on her stool, too weary even to pay attention. She only managed to straighten up and smile when they made their final stop at her counter. Still, though she focused with all her remaining energy, she couldn’t read anything from their expressions as they judged her cake. They looked, sniffed, tasted, and looked again with faces unusually guarded. At the end, they simply gave her a perfectly unison bow before returning to the teacher’s platform.

  Through her haze, Lyra was dimly aware of her heart beating strangely fast.

  “First of all, congratulations,” Professor Honeycomb began, her voice uncharacteristically solemn. “You have completed your second term at the Royal Academy of Magical Baking, and you have all accomplished something noteworthy in this final exam. Well done.”

  Professor Puff’s gray eyes were as calm and cool as ever. “We have reached our decision about the Stellar Enchantment Pin, and about who will not be joining us for the third term. But before we make those announcements and release you for your well-deserved break, we have one last educational experience for you.”

  She nodded at Professor Genoise, who took up the thread.

  “Last term, we delayed our detailed assessments of your final exam cakes until you returned from break. This term, we want you to take the assessment home with you, to reflect upon as you prepare for whatever comes next. Ergo, we shall proceed with an immediate, thorough evaluation of each student’s exam cake.”

  Professor Genoise smiled like he was announcing an all-you-can-eat ice cream extravaganza. Turning to Lyra, he indicated the platform beside him.

  “Aspiring Baker Treble, would you be so kind as to join us? Bring your exam cake, if you please. We will begin with you.”