Revenge is Icing on the Cake

By Abigail Falanga

“Contestants moving to the final round of Galactic Best Bakers are…!”

The host, a green strellcat, paused dramatically.

Spotlights swirled then froze on the contestants, glaring right in Jareth’s eyes.

Jareth had watched every episode of the last three seasons of this, the most popular show in the civilized universe. Research was essential if his plan was to succeed. He gripped the edge of his workbench, aware that his sweat-streaked face wouldn’t look good to the camera drones hovering nearby—the one time he needed sympathy from the viewing public. Once, he’d known exactly how to play to paparazzi; but those skills meant nothing now that the stakes were all too real.

His fireberry tart with flaming grutbah sauce tormented his nostrils.

“Hedd’a!” the strellcat announced.

Stage shielding shifted so that a shaft of light from the space station’s red dwarf star illuminated Hedd’a. She shrieked, clapping all four pairs of hands.

Jareth gritted his teeth. Still got a chance…

Tense music. Grinning host…

“Talitha!”

Another shield lifted and Talitha, a humanoid contestant, fist-pumped the air.

The odor of grutbah sauce turned Jareth’s stomach. Just get it over with. Risking all this, just to get close to his scheming, heartless, double-crossing half-brother…

“And…” The host’s smile stretched on so long and immovably that it seemed brittle. “Jareth!”

Blinding light hit Jareth’s face as relief jolted through him. He shouted something triumphant.

The host barely paused before adding, “In three days, return for the final round with special guest judges—none other than the Shenli Delegation and King Pilgar of the Dranglin System!”

“And—cut,” the director shouted from off set.

Three days. Not much time to prepare…

“Congratulations, Jareth!” Talitha approached his workbench, tucking a blue lock of hair behind her ear.

“Thanks.” He shoved the tart toward the waste incinerator.

“Oh! Wait—I wanted to try that.” She grabbed a spoon and hooked it into the seething mass. “I’m surprised you were able to master this technique. I’ve only heard of fireberries working in a dessert when Chef T’tre—” Her eyes widened as she took the spoon from her mouth. “This is Chef T’tre’s tart.”

Jareth plastered on a smile. “Yeah. Worked hard on the techniques and—”

“No! This literally is Chef T’tre’s tart. I’d know that flavor anywhere. It’s impossible to replicate, unless you actually replicated it. Jareth, did you… cheat?”

“I gotta go—”

Talitha jerked aside a panel on the bench concealing his forbidden tech. “You did cheat!” She sputtered up at him, but then froze. “Wait a minute. I know you, don’t I? You’re Prince Jareth, aren’t you? Heir to the Dranglin throne, until you disappeared.”

His plans crumbled around him like too-dry pastry dough. She’d out him—he knew it. Unless he could somehow pull off his old charm.

Jareth forced a half-smile. “How’d you know?”

“I know everything about you.” Talitha blushed and bit her lip. “I mean—I used to follow you in the news and… But then… What are you doing here? Cheating in a baking contest? Is it because of King Pilgar?”

“He’s a usurper.” Jareth ground his teeth and slammed the panel shut. “He staged that coup just after our father died.”

Talitha’s mouth formed an O. “So, you’re cheating your way to the finals, just to—what?”

“He’ll get what’s coming to him,” Jareth said grimly.

“You can’t seriously be thinking of poison?”

“What does it matter now? You’ll report me for cheating.” Jareth put on his best heartthrob expression. “Unless…”

“I won’t tell.” Talitha scowled. But then her eyebrow rose as she half-smirked. “What if you just made a fool of Pilgar in front of the universe?”

Sudden hope shot through Jareth. “Or in front of the Shenli Delegation. His claim to the throne rests on their support. But how?”

She planted still-floury hands on her hips. “I might have an idea, but no cheating; you’ll have to learn to bake something without tech in the next three days.”

“The rules for the final round…” the host’s voice boomed, making Jareth’s sleep-deprived ears ache. “Bake your best cake—using heat directly from the red dwarf we are orbiting!”

Talitha met his gaze and winked. Jareth nodded back, despite the knot in his stomach. Cheating had been easier than actually trying to bake something.

“Begin!”

He went through motions repeated over the last three days under Talitha’s relentless tutelage, down to the final ingredient.

“Extract of the blueform nebula,” Talitha had said. “Unique flavor. But combined with red dwarf energy, it has a certain… embarrassing effect on humanoid physiology.”

She’d even made him try it. That was an experience he hoped never to repeat.

Forty agonizing minutes of baking later, Jareth slipped the cooling cake onto the serving pedestal and dusted it with powdered sugar. Just in time. The judges entered the soundstage, Pilgar already eying the desserts and paying no attention to the contestants.

They were impressed with Talitha’s elaborate confection. She deserved to win, and would.

Jareth’s heart pounded and he focused on calming it, until at last the judges came to him.

“You’ve chosen, um, a simple presentation,” the lead judge observed.

“Good flavor,” said the chief Shenli, around a mouthful. “Dense, gummy at the middle. The addition of blueform extract may save this from disaster.”

I hope not. Jareth half-smiled thanks.

It was Pilgar’s turn. The oaf looked smug, gloating, fat. He took a huge bite of the cake. “Not bad. Not bad at all!” He swallowed and reached for more. “Why didn’t you at least ice this? Icing makes everything—”

A monstrous fart escaped him.

The Shenli Delegation recoiled.

Jareth glanced up in time to catch the horrified expression fill Pilgar’s face at another explosion of gas.

“Jareth!” Pilgar spluttered crumbs of cake, swallowing most of it and releasing more gas. “This was you?”

“No.” Jareth smothered his laughter and grinned up at the cameras with their live feed to the universe. “No, pretty sure that was all you.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Abigail Falanga may be found in New Mexico creating magic in many ways—with fabric, food, paper, music, and especially with words! She’s loved fantasy ever since playing out epic adventures of swords, fairies, and monsters with her siblings, and loved sci-fi since her dad’s stories around the dinner table. Besides sharing mad little stories on Havok, she is busily trying to launch approximately five hundred novels into the world. Some of them are even finished!

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