Tadg frowned. “Mushrooms taste like dirt.” Then he turned and started back toward camp.
Barclay shot an annoyed look at Viola. “I still don’t like him.”
He bent down to tickle several Stoolip tops—he wasn’t foraging just for food. It wasn’t like he’d be getting any sleep tonight naturally, being near the heart of the Woods the night before Midwinter. He stuffed several into his bag.
“He’s not wrong about mushrooms,” she mumbled, following after Tadg. “Don’t look at me like that. We could be eaten by Gravaldor tomorrow. I get to be picky about my last meal.”
TWENTY-THREE
The center of the Woods reminded Barclay more of a stomach than a heart. On Midwinter Day, the farther they walked, the more every tree branch began to resemble fangs. The canopy above them was an intricate web of knots, making it so dark and tunnel-like that Viola had to lead them using Mitzi’s light Lore. The noises of a thousand different bugs and animals sounded like gurgles. The wind carried a nasty sour smell.
“Are you sure we’re going in the right direction?” Tadg grunted. “We’ve been walking for hours, and everything looks the same. I’m certain we’ve passed that tree before.”
He pointed at a tree with a spiral trunk covered in fruits as brightly colored as jewels.
“It does look familiar,” Barclay admitted.
“We have to be getting close,” Viola said. “It’s almost noon.”
“Gravaldor could be waking at any moment.” Tadg kicked an acorn on the ground, and it soared through the air.
And with a loudclunk, hit what appeared to be nothing.
“Did you see that?” Tadg asked sharply.
Viola walked to the fallen acorn and picked it up. Then she threw it in the direction Tadg had kicked it. Once again it struck against nothing, againstsomething, and fell to the ground.
“What’s going on?” Barclay asked.
Viola carefully crept forward and held out her hand. Eventually she smacked something hard. “There’s a wall here. We just can’t see it.” A grim expression flashed over her face. “We’ve probably been walking in circles, and we didn’t know it.”
“It’s not invisible,” Tadg said. “It’s a mirror.”
“Abel and Ethel,” Barclay breathed.
“But we don’t have reflections,” Viola pointed out.
“Ethel and Abellied. Think about it—they’d traveled from the middle of nowhere in the Woods to find a Master. They were probably thrilled when Soren offered! After all, they collect things, don’t they? Just like he collects Beasts,” Tadg said. “In the third exam, Abel barely attacked me before he let me finish the fight. And Ethel waited until it looked convincing to forfeit her match. Do you think she’d have lost to an Elsie otherwise?” He glanced at Barclay. “No offense.”
“Too late,” Barclay muttered.
“Ethel and Abel probably didn’t intend to stay for thefinal match—they’d planned to leave with Soren,” Tadg said. “Just because we beat them then doesn’t mean we know what Lore they’re really capable of.”
Tadg pressed his hand against the glass, and droplets began to trickle down from his palm. Then a spark swept across the mirror and shattered it. Behind it was a new path deeper into the Woods.
And blocking that path were two figures, side by side.
“We were hoping you wouldn’t notice our trick,” Abel called.
Barclay, Viola, and Tadg walked toward them, Root and Mitzi creeping at their sides. Once they got closer, Barclay saw a wall of mirrors behind the twins, where their Doppelgheists lurked. Barclay had never realized how creepy Abel and Ethel’s Beasts were until this moment, the way they looked so similar to them yet so… wrong.
“We don’t want to fight you,” Ethel warned.
“Then you shouldn’t have helped Soren,” Barclay told her. It was hard to imagine that the two of them were the same friends who had helped him study and shared pitchers of pear cider.
“And you have fish food with you,” Abel said, a smile stretching across his face. “You know, I’ve been wanting a rematch. A real one, this time.”
“I’d be more than happy to give you one,” Tadg growled.
