The headmistress Sylvie now suspected was Flora folded her arms across her chest. “I prepared a velouté infused with veiled lady mushrooms and a hint of skullcap. Both the recipe and ingredients are fair game. You’re just being a sore loser!”
“I’m not sore about anything!” Belinda snapped.
Even Sylvie could tell that wasn’t true.
The doppelgänger stuffed her fingers into the bag by her feet. She pulled out a chef’s knife with a glossy cocobolo wood handle. Delicate hibiscus blossoms were etched into the shimmering blade. “I’m winning fair and square. But if you don’t believe me, here’s my Blade. Check my spells.” She rested the knife on the table. “You’ll see.”
“There’s no need to get the CCS involved with checking spells,” said Godard. “I’ve seen all I need with the transparent pie.” She pointed to a small cluster on the edge of her plate. “That bit has to do with you, Sylvie, and we’ll discuss it in a moment.”
Sylvie stole a glance at the half-eaten slice, still trying to figure out how a bit of egg, butter, and flour knew so much.
Godard turned her attention back to Belinda and the doppelgänger.
“Voting ends in ten minutes. Flora dear, you’re—you’re”—Godard eyed her twin—“I’m sorry. Your spell is impressive. I can see why the kids were enthralled with it. But also … quite distracting. Please do change back.”
“Yes, Madame Godard.” Flora stuffed her hand back into the bag at her feet and pulled out a vial. The grayish-white contents looked just like the elixir Josephine had chugged down. Flora pulled out the stopper and took a swig.
Her skin shifted, turning back to the shade of a glistening dark pearl. The soft wisps of white hair twisted into a mane of ebony corkscrews.
Sylvie opened and closed her eyes a few times. Now that it wasn’t Josephine Flammé unfurling before her, she could appreciate the spell.Spectacular!
Godard gave a satisfied nod. “Now, as I was saying. We only have nine minutes left … make that eight. Flora is leading by twenty-three votes. We’ll wait for the final count, but I think it’s safe to say we have this year’s champion. Congratulations, Flora. You’ll be the commis representing Brindille at this year’s Golden Whisk.”
“What?” Belinda’s hands clenched into fists. “Impersonating the headmistress isn’t fair. When Madame Godard asks for your vote, who will say no?”
“As I said at the assembly,spells that impress and entertain win the day.More importantly, Flora didn’t break any rules. But if you’d like to discuss this further …” Godard pointed toward another morsel stuck to the plate. “Your puppets have been coercing votes from students.”
Belinda grew quiet.
“Remember our motto. We are all stronger when we work together. Now, do you have anything you’d like to say to your classmate, Belinda … perhaps a token of goodwill?”
Belinda turned to Flora. “Congratulations on”—she looked as if she’d swallowed a fly—“the … win.”
Godard clasped her hands together. “Doesn’t that feel so much better than bickering?”
Judging from the look Belinda gave Flora, the answer wasno!
“Flora, please go and tell Chef Amaury to get themise en placeready for the rumbledethumps,” said Godard. “Once the final count is done, I think you’ll be heading to Paris. Oh, and Belinda, let your father know I’d like to give him a tour of our gardens. I just need a quick word with Sylvie first”—she glanced at the Fire Wands wrapped around Sylvie’s wrist—“and I suppose Georgia too.”
Belinda stood up and muttered something about justice. Godard waited until both girls departed and the sound of footsteps vanished. She turned back to Sylvie.
“Aforbiddenrecipe! What have you done?” The sugar lanterns floated toward the table. Shadows flitted across Godard’s face.
Sylvie swallowed the knot in her throat and tried to figure out what to say.How much did the transparent pie tell her?
“The trail of crumbs ended with you making the Devils on Horseback and Agnes … er … Flammé jumping into the oven,” said Godard.
“I didn’t realize what the recipe would do,” said Sylvie. It wasn’t much of an explanation, but it was the best she could muster.
“You didn’t find it odd? A member of my staff encouraging you to make a recipeno oneshould be making, let alone a Pip?”
Sylvie stared at the ground. “She said she wanted to help.” “Besides, we’d already caught Bass’s mole,” added Georgia.
Godard paused. “You mean … Ms. Honeycut?”
Georgia sucked in her lips and nodded. Madame Godard pulled a familiar envelope out of her pocket and waved it in the air. “Well, at least now I know who gave me this. You two were correct. Ms. Honeycut is the CamouflagedOyster. Although, I’m not sure I want to knowhowyou figured that out. But what you failed to realize is that she was using that platform with my knowledge and at the request of”—Godard leaned forward, her voice barely a whisper—“August Strange.”
Sylvie looked up. “Strange asked her to write that stuff?”
