Balthazar LeGrande heaved himself up. “France has captured the top prize almost every year since the competition began.” He threw an unhappy glance at Fernand. “This year shouldn’t have been any different. But Team France failed. Your spell went terribly wrong.”
“Through no fault of our own,” Flammé said.
“No fault?” The words seemed to make Balthazar bristle. “You should’ve checked your ingredients more closely. Now you want to blame someone else for your failure. There’s no proof—”
“What about the red tape?” asked Flammé.
Balthazar stared unhappily at them. “It’s not enough.”
Flammé now had the look of someone sliding off the edge of a cliff. “That … p-plus the butcher’s-broom. They can’t both be coincidences. It’s clear Abby did this to win!”
“You should’ve paid closer attention to your ingredients,” said Balthazar. “When yourmise en placeis a bust, you pay the price. I vote for Team USA to remain in the competition.”
“Yes!” Guy Fabre threw a fist in the air.
Sylvie’s eyes narrowed. The silver-and-green spine of a book poked out of his pocket.
The author’s name glistened in the lights:Eglantine Easton.
That’s the book I looked at in the library …Nectar to Ambrosia: A History of Magical Ingredients. Sylvie’s body turned stiff.It explains all about butcher’s-broom.
Gideon’s words floated back.There’s more to Guy Fabre than meets the eye.
The win at the Golden Whisk had helped catapult Guy to stardom. Sylvie always believed her mom was innocent, but now she understood why so many people doubted it.This was no accident. Someone wanted my mom to take the fall.Now, Sylvie thought she might know who.
“I’ll never forgive you for this!” Fernand’s words jolted Sylvie from her thoughts. His hands clenched into fists as he glared at his father.
“You’re done”—Balthazar’s voice boiled with fury—“both of you.”
“No!” Flammé wailed. “I’ve dedicated years of my life to winning, practicing, perfecting every spell.”
Every moment that had ever caused Flammé pain now seemed to be crushing her. Gone was the sparkle in her eyes. In its place was something fiery … something beyond anger.Revenge.
“My spell was by far the most difficult. I would’ve won if someone hadn’t tampered with my ingredients … or if you all hadn’t judged me so harshly.” Flammé glared at Sylvie’s mom. “You think you’ve gotten away with this, but you haven’t. You’ll pay for what you’ve done.”
The past week Sylvie had been swimming in a sea of emotions:Hopewhen she’d gotten her CCS letter,confusionwhen she’d seen the Apple of Discord,angerwhen she’d read Bass’s confidential memo. She’d gotten a raw deal. But now, she realized none of them had gotten what they deserved …even Josephine Flammé.
The colorful lights of the arena suddenly began to fade. Jack Bass and August Strange grew hazy. Sylvie fought against it, but the scent of caramelized onions was already returning. She stole a final glimpse at Guy Fabre. A satisfied smile spread across his face. Then, Godard’s memory stopped.
Once again, Sylvie was sitting in a purple velvet chair, surrounded by books and peculiar plants. She mustered up the courage to ask the question she’d been wondering about. “The two CCS agents … I recognized them. It was Jack Bass and August Strange… . They were partners?”
“Yes. They were even friends, if you can believe it.” Godard peered intently at her. “But how did you recognize August Strange?”
“Oh, well.” Sylvie felt her cheeks flush. “It was the wanted poster in the library yesterday. I remembered the eyes.” Sylvie would tell Godard the truth once she gave her the confidential memo.
“The eyes? Hmm …” Godard tapped a finger against her desk. She seemed to be considering something.
Sylvie held her breath and didn’t exhale until Godard continued. “Everything changed after the Golden Whisk. New policies were put in place to prevent another incident. There were rules and regulations about who could enter the competition. Suddenly, certain Sages were cut out. If you ask me, that’s when the ranking system really started.”
Sylvie wanted to ask her more, but Godard continued.
“The CCS even got involved in our Commis Contest. Now, the selection of the winner involves …”—her lips turned tight—“oversight.”
Until now, Sylvie hadn’t realized the CCS’s authority stretched to Brindille’s Commis Contest. It didn’t seem right.Like the wolf looking after the henhouse.
“After Paris, August and Jack transferred to separate departments. But, until a few days ago, theybothstill worked for the CCS.”
Both.At least now, Sylvie understood how August had managed to steal the Apple of Discord and take the secret memo. But that still didn’t explain why the Apple had her name on it.
