She pulled out her copy ofA Traveler’s Logand turned to the final pages.
“In the acknowledgments, Murdock thanks Soren as a beneficiary—seems like Soren helped pay for a portion of Murdock’s travels. He calls him ‘a fellow enthusiast of the incredible Legendary Beasts,’?” Viola read. “That makes sense—everyone knows Soren was helping Murdock write his sequel, which he never finished. Then, later, he writes: ‘And to my dear friend, Runa Rasgar, without whose support I never would have written this record down.’?”
“So they both knew Murdock,” Abel said.
“Do you think Runa was somehow involved in Murdock’s death?” Viola asked, anxiously stroking Mitzi’s back.
Abel shrugged. “I don’t know, but I don’t feel too sorry for Tadg, the way he acts. Real full of himself, isn’t he?”
“Um, Abel—” Ethel squeaked, looking over Abel’s shoulder.
“Well, I wouldn’t be if I only had my Beast because my dead father—”
“Abel—”Viola cut in.
“Gave mehis, would I?”
Behind them, someone cleared their throat. Barclay and Abel whipped around, and Tadg stood there, his face redder than the top of a Mourningtide Morel.
“I won’t feel too sorry either”—he growled—“when I send you back to your no-name village in pieces.”
Abel stood up and pushed Tadg away. Barclay’s eyes widened. He didn’t put it past either of them to start a fight.
“Try it, then,” Abel snapped. “I dare you. Let’s see that Beast you brag so much about.”
Tadg’s fingers curled into a fist, the golden Mark of the Nathermara coiling over his skin. He glanced at Barclay, Viola, and Ethel, all frozen on the bench behind Abel, as though considering his odds, four against one. Tadg’s eyes fell on Ethel’s open notebook and narrowed. She hurriedly snapped it closed.
The fire in Tadg’s eyes faded, and he turned back to Abel. “You don’t know what you’re asking. You collect cards and toys, but my Beast isn’t a plaything. There’s a difference between a companion and a monster.”
“Your father didn’t seem to think so,” Abel shot back.
“Stop. Talking. About. Him.”
The other students—and some of the parents, even—had formed a circle around their group. Tadg’s admirers, in particular, cheered for him to unleash his Beast.
“Let’s see it!” they called.
“Don’t let him off easy!”
“Show us what it can do!”
Tadg, usually happy to oblige his fan club, went pale. Meanwhile, Abel dug his boots into the ground, preparing to lunge.
But before he could, Tadg shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” he murmured one last time. Then he turned around and walked away. The crowd booed, but they parted for him and let him pass.
“I didn’t think so,” Abel said smugly, sitting back down.
“You shouldn’t have said that, about his father,” Viola scolded him. “I don’t like Tadg either, but it was no wonder he got mad.”
Barclay agreed with her. Falk and his gang had made fun of his dead parents on more than one occasion, for no other reason than to make Barclay feel terrible.
But then he remembered Tadg’s name on the lecture list and how he’d registered for Soren’s, and he stopped feeling bad.
Abel leaned over and grabbed Barclay’s textbook. “Maybe Iwillstudy. Maybe I’ll study so I can beat him.”
For the rest of the afternoon, Viola took turns quizzing them. But whenever Barclay tried to focus, his thoughts kept drifting. To Soren’s slimy smile. To the rumors about Runa. And especially to Tadg’s words:There’s a difference between a companion and a monster.
Hours later, once night had fallen, Barclay returned to the grove where he had trained the day before, and he’d tried to knock over the pine cone more times than he could count. There were only five more nights until the second exam, and at this rate, he’d come in dead last.
