Barclay didn’t answer. He was too preoccupied with the Lufthund, who had crouched down and was watching Barclay as though preparing to attack. Its tail gave a sudden, violent swish.

  It leapt forward.

  Barclay screamed and darted away. The sound made the Lufthund freeze, its black eyes suddenly narrowed, uncertain and wary.

  “Careful,” Viola said sharply. Mitzi appeared from her Mark and stood on alert on Viola’s shoulder. “Don’t startle him. Try to feed him.”

  Barclay carefully reached into his bag to grab some of the meat. His movements startled the Lufthund, who let out a low, throaty growl that made Barclay’s heart stutter to a near stop.

  “I’m just getting you some food,” Barclay told it. He grabbed the elk meat and slowly unwrapped it. He held it out. “Here.”

  When the Beast prowled closer, Barclay had to restrain himself from stepping back. Even if the Lufthund ate the meat, there was nothing stopping it from taking a bite of Barclay’s arm along with it.

  And so, once it got close enough, Barclay tossed the meat into the snow in front of it.

  “There you go,” Barclay offered, his voice hitched.

  The Beast watched Barclay the entire time it ate, as though it would rather be eating him.

  * * *

  That night at the Ironwood Inn, Viola, Ethel, and Abel all pummeled Barclay with advice.

  “You need to be his alpha,” said Abel. “He’s like a wolf, isn’t he? He needs to respect you.”

  “If you keep feeding him, I’m sure he will grow nicer,” Ethel told Barclay. Then she paused and added, “And maybe a bit heavier, but I’m sure that’s fine.”

  “You just scared him a little,” said Viola. “You only need him to trust you. You’re his partner. His Keeper.”

  As she said this, Mitzi scampered onto the table and lunged for Viola’s mug of cider—Mitzi had developed an obsession with the drink. She stuck her wing in it and dumped it all over the table.

  Viola scowled and wiped away the puddle. “On second thought, maybe you should be his alpha. Maybe then he will listen to you.” She shot Mitzi an annoyed look.

  Mitzi squawked defiantly and tore at Viola’s napkin.

  But even though Barclay knew the three of them understood way more about Beasts than he did, he didn’t think any of them were right. His Beast hadn’t seemed defiant or mean or suspicious when they’d escaped from Soren. It’d seemed… impatient, maybe. Like it was waiting for something.

  But that was then. Now he had no idea what to make of the Lufthund.

  Barclay miserably laid his head against the table. “Tadg is right. I’m going to die during the practical. If anyone should feel scared, it’s me. You saw how the Lufthund looks at me! I’m not its alpha or its partner. I’m its dinner!”

  “What happens if you can’t remove your Mark, Barclay?” Ethel asked him.

  “I think Soren will do it for you,” Abel said darkly.

  Viola frowned and squeezed Barclay’s shoulder. “We won’t let that happen.”

  “Even if you don’t come in first,” Ethel said cheerily, “a Lore Master could still take you on as an apprentice! Then you could join the Guild, like us.”

  Even though Ethel’s words were meant to be comforting, they only made Barclay more depressed. Unless he managed the impossible and beat Tadg to claim first, he had no choice: he’d have to remain a Lore Keeper forever. He’d never return to Dullshire. He’d never see Master Pilzmann or Mrs. Havener again.

  It was true that Barclay had once longed for an adventure, but even then, he had never wanted one like this. What he really wanted was to make his parents proud, and the last thing his parents would’ve wished for was for Barclay to live in the world of Beasts when they’d been killed by one.

  “I have a great idea!” Ethel squeaked. She reached into her backpack and pulled out a crumpled flyer. “Lecture Day is coming up—it’s the day before the second exam, when the Lore Keeper Masters put on presentations for the students, so that students can hear more about the instructors and the different subjects they specialize in. We could all go together and find you a Master!”

  Unable to take another second of their enthusiasm, Barclay stood up. “I need some air,” he declared, and he walked out into the Winter night.

  * * *

  A half hour later Barclay pressed his back into a tree trunk and held out the squirrel meat. “Take it! Just take it!”

  The Lufthund sniffed it suspiciously. With its black fur, the Beast was nearly impossible to see in the darkness. It was reckless, Barclay knew, to spend time alone with it. There was no one around, no sounds but the hoots of owls. No one to witness if Barclay got eaten.

  But Barclay didn’t want a backup plan, like Ethel had suggested. In order to win the next exam, he’d have to take risks. To do whatever it took.

  With the Beast’s fangs dangerously close to his hand, Barclay once again tossed the meat into the snow. This time the Lufthund didn’t even eat it. It sniffed it, then wrinkled its snout like it was actually picky about what food it ate.

  “You will obey me,” Barclay told it. “Because you are a Beast and I’m your Keeper. And I need you to. I don’t care what they say—I can’t be a Lore Keeper forever.”

  While the Lufthund was distracted with inspecting the squirrel meat, Barclay tried once again to summon wind. He’d placed a pine cone on the remains of a rotted tree stump, and he aimed to topple it over. A wind appeared, though far above Barclay’s head, rattling the branches. The cone remained in place.

  Barclay collapsed onto the stump and stared at his Beast. The Beast let out a loud huff from its nostrils, and its tail twitched. Like it was laughing at him.

  “I’m no good at this,” Barclay grumbled. “Even if I did stay here, I’d make a terrible Lore Keeper.”

  The Beast huffed again, as though agreeing with him.

  “Think I’m funny, do you?” Barclay asked. When the Lufthund padded closer, Barclay reached into his pocket for his Beast-warding charm. The Lufthund eyed it curiously, even when he should have been shrinking away.

  “Viola was right. This doesn’t work, does it?”

  The Beast sniffed it and made a disgusted face. Then it scrunched its nose and licked it.

  “Was the taste worth it? Just to make me look stupid?”

  The Lufthund lifted its chin up, snobbylike, as if to say it had been. On top of being dangerous, Barclay’s Beast seemed a snide sort of know-it-all.

  Barclay sighed and tossed the charm into the snow. He should’ve known Dullshire’s charms didn’t really work, like Viola had told him.

  “You know what I don’t understand?” he asked. “How did I even bond with you? Because it doesn’t sound like anyone can bond with a Beast by accident.”

  The Lufthund’s dark eyes met his, and Barclay got the sense that it was trying to tell him something. But, of course, he didn’t get a response.

  “This place is turning me bonkers,” he muttered. “It’s not like you can talk to me.”

  The Beast’s face wrinkled, as though affronted.

  Barclay put his hands on his hips. “Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t ask to be bonded with you.”

  It sat down and lifted its front paws, mimicking Barclay.

  “Don’t do that.” Barclay dropped his hands.

  The Lufthund did too.

  “You know, everyone in Sycomore already makes fun of me. I don’t need it from you.”

  Barclay kicked at the snow. The wind picked it up and scattered it in flurries, and the Lufthund barked and ran after them, its tail wagging. Once the snow settled, the Beast turned around, watching Barclay eagerly, as if this were all a game.

  Barclay sighed. Without his charm, Barclay resorted to the only other thing to help him think—running. It didn’t matter that it was freezing, or late, or dark. He needed to move. He needed to move fast.

  Come back, Barclay thought, trying to send the Lufthund back to the Mark.

  The Beast whined.

  “So you’re being stubborn, then?” Barclay asked. Viola had told Barclay he needed to know his Beast, and so far, he didn’t like him.

  The Beast whined again, and it was such a sad sound that Barclay suddenly felt rather bad for it. Viola had said that Lufthunds weren’t pack animals, but maybe this one got lonely. As an orphan with few real friends, Barclay knew the feeling.

  “Fine,” Barclay told it, trudging to the closest street. Lightning bugs filled the lanterns dangling from the trees, lighting the path. He didn’t know his way around Sycomore, but the winding alleys called to him, urging him to run, no matter if he got lost.

  But still he hesitated. No running. No filth. No wildness. It was hard to shake off Dullshire’s rules, even if he wasn’t in Dullshire anymore. But then a breeze rushed past, as though asking him to join it. And Barclay realized there was something to like about Sycomore after all.

  He took off.

  It felt so good, the wind in his hair, his heart pounding. He knew every corner and cranny of Dullshire, and he was surprised by how much he loved the feeling of getting lost in Sycomore. Every turn meant a new discovery. A small adventure.

  The Lufthund caught up and ran beside him. Barclay considered stopping—the Beast was not helping him clear his head. But the Lufthund looked more content than Barclay had ever seen it, its tail wagging, its jaws open like a smile. It clearly loved this as much as Barclay did.

  So Barclay decided to let the Beast stay beside him. To keep running.

  It couldn’t hurt, just for one night.

  FIFTEEN

  Barclay didn’t tell the others about his night running with the Lufthund. He didn’t want them to think he was second-guessing his decision to go back to Dullshire, because he wasn’t. His life had changed so much in the past week that he just needed a moment to think.

  That didn’t mean he’d betrayed his parents.

  But if that was true, then why did he feel a little bit guilty?

  The next morning the four of them registered for Lecture Day. It was required for Barclay, Ethel, and Abel—but the rest of Sycomore was invited to attend as well. Barclay registered for all the Masters he recognized—except for Soren, of course.

  When Barclay spotted Tadg’s name on the list, he wasn’t the least bit surprised to see he had registered for Soren’s lecture over Runa’s.

  With several days to wait until Lecture Day, Barclay still had plenty of time to train for the second exam. The four of them ventured out to a field where other students sat on benches surrounding a bonfire, passing around champion cards and playing with their Beasts. The air smelled like any good Winter day should, like smoke and pine and fresh cider.

  “What is it?” Barclay asked, catching Viola staring at him.

  “You stopped combing your hair flat,” she said. “It looks much better.”

  “And you don’t smell like skunks anymore,” Ethel added.

  He stiffened, suddenly self-conscious. “I—”

  “Don’t you think Barclay looks less like an Elsie now?” Ethel asked her brother.

  But thankfully, saving Barclay from more scrutiny, Abel wasn’t paying attention. He shuffled through his deck of champion cards.

  “Do you think someone would trade with me for a Runa Rasgar card? I’d like a Sanjit Varma card. Or maybe Aoife Kearney…”

  “You’d trade your Runa card?” Ethel asked. “But she’s our top choice for a Master!”

  “Yeah, but I have almost ten of them,” Abel muttered.

  “Runa was a, um, Dooling person?” Barclay asked, looking up from the textbook Ethel had lent him.

  Abel gaped at him. “It’s called a Dooler. And Runa was champion six times.”

  “She has two Mythic class Beasts,” Ethel said dreamily. “I’d love to see them in person and draw them. Mythic Beasts are so rare—you’re so lucky, Barclay.”

  If Barclay was “lucky,” he’d still be in Dullshire right now. Or he’d find a way to make what had happened during the first exam blow over. You’d think he’d cheated from the way the other students still glared at him, not the other way around.

  “I’d love to see Runa’s Beasts fight,” Abel gushed.

  Viola rolled her eyes. “Dooling isn’t that respectable. It’s a sport. If you’re going to rave about Runa, at least rave about her real accomplishments. She’s also a world-famous Guardian Keeper.”

  “You just think that because your family is noble,” Abel told her.

  “We’re not noble,” Viola retorted.

  “Wasn’t the Grand Keeper before your father his mother? And her father before her?” Ethel asked.

  “Yes,” Viola replied.

  Abel smirked. “Yeah, that’s called noble.”

  Suddenly Abel fumbled, as though smacked on the hand, and his deck fell to the ground. He hurriedly scooped it up out of the snow.

  “Stop doing that,” he grumbled, at what seemed like no one.

  Barclay wondered again if his friends were a little bit strange.

  He wanted to focus on studying so that he could prepare for the practical, but it was hard, surrounded by so many students and Beasts. His eyes roamed over the crowds. Some of the kids sat in clusters, others with their parents who’d traveled with them for the Exhibition. The Beasts roamed freely, playing in the sparse patches of snow. Their magic—their Lore, Barclay corrected himself—made their paw prints harden to ice, or weeds sprout up in the frost, or colors bleed into the white.

  Watching them, Barclay’s Mark began to prickle. It didn’t sting, like it did when danger was nearby. It felt more like an itch. And when Barclay stretched down his collar to examine it, the Lufthund padded across his skin, his tail wagging.

  “Do your Beasts ever try to tell you something, when they’re in their Marks?” Barclay asked the others.

  Viola nodded. “Your Beast can communicate with you a little bit when they’re in the Mark, like you can sense each other. My Mark tends to tickle when I walk past something shiny. It gets Mitzi excited.”

  “I think mine warns me when there’s danger. Or when…”

  When it wants to play, Barclay was going to add, realizing immediately that that was what the Lufthund wanted, why it was wagging its tail. But his Beast wasn’t a companion, like Mitzi. He couldn’t just let it wander in such a large crowd—it might attack someone.

  “What about yours?” he asked Abel and Ethel.

  “I guess they do, but we almost never keep our Beasts in their Marks,” Ethel said, furiously scribbling notes about the Beasts around them.

  “They’re out now,” Abel said, shrugging.

  Barclay furrowed his eyebrows. He didn’t remember them ever having Beasts with them. “Which ones are they?”

  “They’re right there.” Ethel pointed toward the grass beneath the trees.

  Barclay and Viola exchanged a dark look. There was nothing there.

  Maybe they were only joking, since they’d said they wanted to keep their Beasts secret. But then Viola asked, “Um… Are you sure they didn’t run off?”

  “They’re invisible to other people,” Ethel explained, which did nothing to make Barclay feel better. “Unless you have a—”

  “You couldn’t be referring to Doppelgheists?” a slick voice asked from behind them, and the four of them turned around to face Soren and Erhart.

  Barclay’s hand instantly reached for his shoulder, as though to protect his Mark. The others tensed. Mitzi rose from Viola’s lap to let out a low growl.

  “Yes. I mean—” Abel started nervously, then stopped when Soren reached down and picked up Ethel’s notebook. Soren flipped to the first page and stared at something Barclay couldn’t see.

  “Amazing Beasts. Wouldn’t you agree, High Keeper?” Soren asked, showing Erhart what Barclay guessed was a sketch of Ethel’s and Abel’s Beasts.

  Erhart didn’t seem to be paying attention, distracted from staring at the expensive fur trim of Soren’s coat. “I… Oh yes. Quite amazing.”

  “Prime class. Quite common, really, but I’ve never heard of a Keeper bonding with them, on account of how difficult they are to find—”

  “Don’t get any ideas,” Barclay bit out.

  Erhart’s gaze shot to Barclay. “To speak like that to a Master!” Then his eyes narrowed. “You’re the registrant from the Elsewheres, aren’t you? Well, you wouldn’t understand the contribution that Mr. Reiker has made to our Guild chapter. No more will Sycomore pale in comparison to the cities of the Desert, the Mountains, the Jungle! No more will the Woods be the punch line of the rest of the Wilderlands! Why, look how many students we have this year. A record amount! Even with the Exhibition being moved early!”

  Viola snorted. “You only have this many students because Runa Rasgar is one of the Masters.”

  Erhart’s face reddened, and he swayed like he might topple over. “Really, I would never expect such insolence from you, Miss Dumont.”

  Viola stiffened, as though she too couldn’t believe what she’d just said. She straightened her lopsided gold pins.

  Erhart continued, “And if you knew the uglier sides of Miss Rasgar’s reputation… Mr. Reiker has filled me in on quite a story. I’m second-guessing even allowing her to come to this Exhibition.”

  Fear seized Barclay—Runa was the only person in Sycomore who knew how to help him.

  “You can’t send Runa away!” he shouted, loudly enough to make other students’ heads turn. Many of their eyes widened.

  Erhart cleared his throat. He must have thought Viola’s earlier comment was true, because he said, quite loudly, “You misheard! I’d do no such thing.” Then, once the crowd looked appeased, he lowered his voice. “I don’t want to hear any more of this about Soren. Not from you, or from Miss Rasgar.”

  “Yes,” Soren purred. “I think that’s quite enough. It was nice to meet you.” He handed Ethel back her notebook. Then, with one last vicious smile, he led Erhart to the other end of the field.

  Once they were both out of earshot, Barclay moaned to the twins, “Now Soren will be after your Beasts too!”