The exam hall felt oddly dark as Lyra carried her cake to the teachers’ platform. The gray clouds still piling up outside the windows were heavy and ominous. Taking the indicated place beside Professor Genoise, Lyra suppressed a shiver.

  “Let us start with the high points,” Professor Genoise announced. “Which is Flavor for this cake, I believe. Right, Lavender?”

  Professor Honeycomb gave Lyra an encouraging smile. “That’s right. Your instincts are superb, Aspiring Baker Treble. Another delicious combination for the books. And your magical skills are coming along nicely also. I was particularly struck by your use of The Soufflé Sisters Cooperation Chant. Beautifully accomplished.”

  Something was wrong. Professor Honeycomb’s voice was never this subdued. Her blue eyes weren’t sparkling nearly as much as they should be, at least if she were truly excited about Lyra’s cake. And hadn’t Professor Genoise said Flavor was the high point?

  Lyra felt that shiver she had suppressed take root in the pit of her stomach.

  “I can say the same about your Texture magic.” Professor Puff spoke as evenly as she always did, but Lyra thought she detected a hint of sadness in the Texturist’s stern features. “You have labored quite diligently this term, Aspiring Baker Treble. This cake demonstrates your competence in both Master Chiffon’s Aeration Charm and Madame Pavlova’s Spell of Fluffening. Especially the latter. Thank you for your hard work.”

  “Hard work. Exactly the words I would choose.” Peering through his monocle at Lyra’s cake, Professor Genoise shook his head. “Alas, in baking, the final result ought not feel like hard work. We put in great effort, but the consumer should never be aware of it. Our goal is to give them a moment of sweetness: easy, light, and carefree. I’m afraid this cake fails to achieve that.”

  The shiver spread rapidly from Lyra’s stomach up to her throat. Nearly choking on it, she stammered, “Did — are the Presentation spells wrong?”

  “Not at all, my dear,” Professor Genoise assured her. “Quite the opposite. If anything, they are… too right.”

  She stared at him blankly. “Too right?”

  “Too exact. Deliberate. Laborious.” Professor Genoise waved an elegant hand over the cake. “I can feel all the strain and effort these spells cost you. Just looking at it makes me tired. And that is not how a cake is supposed to make one feel, is it?”

  The shiver had taken possession of Lyra’s vocal cords. All she could do was shake her head.

  “This is a very correct cake,” Professor Genoise went on. “Neither Master Brulée nor Master Glaze could find any fault with your work. But Presentation, remember, is all about style. Your personal style has always been remarkably uplifting. ‘Joyful’ is the word I gave you first term, and you have earned it again and again.” He gave the cake another long look through his monocle, then sighed. “I see little ‘joy’ in this cake, Aspiring Baker Treble. Only effort. I believe my colleagues agree?”

  Professor Puff and Professor Honeycomb nodded in silent confirmation, the latter rushing to add, “Except the Cooperation Chant. I felt a spark of something there.”

  “Madame Pavolova’s Spell of Fluffening was a bright moment,” Professor Puff commented. “A ‘spark’, if you will.”

  “Indeed,” Professor Genoise said. “And I caught a spark in the dusky rose charm. But it was a spark only, and quickly snuffed out.”

  “We have come to expect such… delight from your cakes, Aspiring Baker Treble,” Professor Puff said, almost apologetically.

  “Delight!” Professor Honeycomb exclaimed. “Yes, that’s it. I was looking forward to a truly enjoyable eating experience.” She gave Lyra a kind smile. “There’s nothing wrong with the cake technically, my dear. I believe we’re all just a bit disappointed.”

  Professor Honeycomb’s warmth failed to melt the icy shiver. Lyra couldn’t meet the professor’s eyes. She dared not glance out at the exam hall to see what looks her fellow students were giving her. Boysen’s support would be just as unbearable as Caramelle’s disdainful triumph.

  Instead, Lyra just stared at her ‘too right’ cake as the shiver took full possession of her mind, freezing her inside this one horrible moment. Echoes pinged around her brain, bouncing off the icy walls:

  ‘Just looking at it makes me tired.’

  ‘I see little joy in this cake.’

  ‘I believe we’re all just a bit disappointed.’

  And then, out of nowhere, Cardamom’s voice from Thursday night, vibrant with confidence:

  ‘You’re something special, Lyra. And on Saturday, you’re going to prove it.’

  The ice in her mind cracked, melted, and threatened to come pouring out of her eyes. She cast one mute, pleading glance at Professor Honeycomb.

  Thankfully, the Flavor headmistress took the hint.

  “You have much to ponder over the coming break, Aspiring Baker Treble.” Professor Honeycomb looked at each of her colleagues, nodded, and went on with a tone of finality. “Thank you for your work this term, and in today’s exam. The cake is quite a technical achievement. You may return to your work-station now.”

  Lyra wasn’t sure if it was Ginger or Boysen who started clapping. Whoever it was, she wished they hadn’t. The applause seemed to overwhelm all her senses at once as she stumbled blindly back to her seat. It roared in her already buzzing ears. Her hands and feet felt numb. Even her eyes were drowning in the noise, unless the gathering storm outside had suddenly grown much darker…

  Only when she was back at her counter, perched on her stool, did she feel somewhat stable again. She clenched her hands tightly in her lap and stared at the platform, willing the professors to move quickly through the four remaining students.

  Just throw me out, she begged silently. Just tell me I’m not coming back, and let me fall apart in peace.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  “We will continue in a similar vein,” Professor Genoise announced. “Aspiring Baker Meringue, would you bring your cake and join us?”

  Lyra’s brain felt like a pile of melting slush, but she still managed a tiny flicker of surprise. ‘Similar vein’? What was that supposed to mean?

  Then she caught a glimpse of Caramelle, and her flicker of surprise shifted into a wave of alarm.

  The Meringue looked terrible.

  Not messy, of course. Her hair and clothes were as fiercely perfect as ever. But the dark circles under her eyes… when had they grown so big? And when had she gotten so thin?

  Lyra tried to think. She had just spoken to Caramelle the night before. But had she really looked at her? Honestly, Lyra couldn’t remember the last time she had truly seen her former roommate, at least through the lens of anything like concern.

  Not that Caramelle would have accepted concern, of course. The Meringue had been surrounding herself with a wall of determination and spite and Self-Presentation spells all term. Rather than trying to get through, Lyra had thrown up a few walls of her own.

  But the walls were coming down. The only aura surrounding Caramelle now was that of exhaustion: someone who had pushed themselves several miles beyond some sacred limit, and was ready to drop. Standing on the platform beside the professors, she looked ten times worse than Lyra felt.

  “The parallels between your cake and Aspiring Baker Treble’s are striking, Aspiring Baker Meringue,” Professor Genoise began. “For one thing, the two of you chose the same spells.”

  “Except for Texture,” Professor Puff corrected. “Both students used Master Chiffon’s Aeration Charm, but Aspiring Baker Treble at the intermediate level, while Aspiring Baker Meringue performed the advanced version. And for her second magical component, Meringue selected Madame Dacquoise’s Superior Sponge Spell. This is most impressive. Academy Texture curriculum does not cover that spell until third year.”

  Caramelle’s voice was as stiff and brittle as her egg white namesake. “The academy encourages us to push ourselves. I wanted to stand out.”

  “You certainly did,” Professor Puff said gravely. “Both Texture spells were completed successfully. I believe my colleagues would say the same of the other two disciplines’ magical components?”

  The Flavor and Presentation professors nodded their confirmation.

  Professor Puff went on, “But this is where the parallel with Aspiring Baker Treble continues. This cake is technically perfect, or as close as any baker could hope to achieve, let alone a first-year academy student. But…”

  “It is not enjoyable,” Professor Honeycomb said sadly. “The Flavors are deep, and balanced, but not of their own accord. They were forced. It’s like they are terrified of being anything less than perfect.”

  Professor Genoise nodded again. “Terrified. That’s the word. Presentation magic always reflects the personality of the baker, as you know, Aspiring Baker Meringue. Your style has always been ‘virtuosic.’ You set the bar incredibly high for yourself and for all your fellow students. But I fear you have aimed too high. This cake’s story is not virtuosic excellence. It is a tale of setting impossible goals, and exhausting oneself trying to reach them, and the devouring fear of falling short.”

  “The academy does encourage students to push themselves,” Professor Puff said with unusual tenderness. “But not at the sacrifice of one’s health. As you and Aspiring Baker Treble have shown today, such weariness does manifest detrimentally in a baker’s work. You still have much to be proud of. The cake is technically perfect. You also have much to learn. I encourage you, Meringue, to ponder these lessons over break.”

  Her tone was gentle, but it also invited no argument. Caramelle gave the slightest of nods. Then she returned to her seat, taking her ‘technically perfect’ cake with her. She ignored the round of applause that Mac began, even when the professors joined in enthusiastically.

  Before Lyra could even begin to sort through the sluggish array of emotions swirling through her mind, Professor Genoise was speaking again.

  “Aspiring Baker Crumble, please join us.”

  Ginger marched to the platform, placed her honeycomb-esque cake on the counter, and stepped back. Lyra could feel the defiance radiating out of her from several feet away.

  Looking at the cake, Lyra’s heart began sinking towards her stomach. The design was as intricate as she remembered, but the execution… was the frosting supposed to be running together like that? Was the whole cake actually melting?

  “Aspiring Baker Crumble,” Professor Honeycomb began. “We are all, I confess, a bit confused about the spells you chose. Could you walk us through them, please?”

  “Happy to.” Ginger smiled, and Lyra’s heart sank even further, plummeting towards her toes. “For Flavor, I used Madame Hazelnut’s Deepening Spell, as instructed. I also used a variation of The Soufflé Sisters Cooperation Chant.”

  “Variation?” Professor Honeycomb echoed.

  “Yes. I wanted to focus on contrast rather than cooperation. I reversed the chant, encouraging each Flavor to be as distinct as possible.”

  Professor Honeycomb opened her mouth, closed it, and then nodded at Ginger to continue.

  “For Texture, I selected Master Chiffon’s Aeration Charm at the intermediate level, followed by Madame Brioche’s Proofing Chant.”

  Professor Puff’s eyebrows rose. “The proofing chant is for bread, Aspiring Baker Crumble.”

  “And this cake is meant to have a bread-like consistency,” Ginger countered. “I modified the equations to fit a cake recipe. Master Chiffon’s charm provides plenty of airiness, so I wanted to balance that with a little density.”

  Professor Puff’s eyebrows were still raised. Her lips pressed together in a thin line. But, like Professor Honeycomb, she did not speak. She merely nodded, and Ginger continued.

  “I used Master Brulée’s Coloring Charm for Presentation, of course. For the second spell, I invented one of my own.”

  “So I see.” Professor Genoise peered at the slowly disintegrating cake. “May I inquire as to the purpose of this new spell?”

  “I wanted to create a sense of reality,” Ginger explained. “It’s essentially an illusion cake. Before you cut into it, didn’t it look and feel and smell like an actual honeycomb?”

  Professor Genoise sighed. “It did. I was quite enchanted. But the moment the knife touched it…” He closed his eyes and turned away, waving in the soggy cake’s general direction. “This happened.”

  “I used a preservation spell for inspiration,” Ginger said cheerfully. “The effect doesn’t last long, I’m afraid. But it’s worth it.”

  “Sadly, I must disagree with you there, Aspiring Baker Crumble.” Professor Genoise did look genuinely sorrowful. Even his carefully manicured beard seemed to be drooping. “Your potential is truly astounding. But raw talent alone cannot sustain a baker. To succeed in this grueling profession, one requires…”

  “Discipline,” Professor Puff supplied. “The ability to set aside one’s personal preferences and stay the course. As we have all told you repeatedly over this term, Aspiring Baker Crumble, there is indeed a time and place for your innovative tendencies. That place might be the royal academy, but the time is NOT during your first year. You have to lay the foundation before you can build on it.”

  Ginger’s voice was steady, and even respectful. “Doesn’t the success of the building prove the foundation is solid enough already?”

  “But the building is not a success, my dear.” Professor Honeycomb’s sparkling blue eyes were swimming with tears. “The Flavors are a mess. They’re both screaming so loudly over each other that I can’t tell what either is supposed to be saying. This isn’t a cake, Crumble. It’s a war.”

  “Same with Texture,” Professor Puff said bluntly. “The proofing spell is simply not meant for cake. I can tell you did some admirable work with the equations, but the result is neither cake nor bread. It’s some sort of stodgy hybrid.”

  “And the Presentation spell…” Professor Genoise sighed, apparently searching for words.

  Ginger saved him the trouble.

  “It’s a disaster cake. I aimed too high, and failed spectacularly.”

  “I wouldn’t say ‘failed’,” Professor Genoise replied.

  Professor Puff nodded. “No, indeed. You demonstrated your proficiency with one spell for each baking principle.”

  “So we know you could have produced something truly marvelous.” Professor Honeycomb’s voice was shaking slightly. “If you had not deviated so wildly with the other three spells.”

  Ginger, somehow, appeared much calmer than the professors. She gave a brisk nod. “Understood. Thank you.” Then, to Lyra’s utter bewilderment, she said, “I’m guessing you don’t want me to come back next term?”

  A moment of silence flashed through the hall, coinciding with a sudden streak of lightning in the sky outside.

  Professor Genoise cleared his throat.

  “No, Aspiring Baker Crumble. We do not.”