Barclay shot him an annoyed look and scratched Root behind the ear. “He means, ‘Thank you for the ride,’ ” he mumbled to Root.

“So you’re willing to let us come along now?” Viola said. “Or did we get in the way of you being eaten by that Eberock?”

Tadg sighed. “We’ll stop to eat and rest for the night, but only because we’ll be at a disadvantage in the dark. And we will leave at sunrise.”

“We want to stop Soren as much as you do,” Barclay told him.

His eyes flashed. “I doubt that.”

Leaving Tadg to be grumpy by himself, Barclay and Viola set out in search of food they could eat. Barclay was pleased to uncover several clumps of white mushrooms at the base of nearby trees.

“If we make it back to Sycomore alive,” Viola asked him, “would you accept Runa’s offer?”

Viola sounded hopeful, and Barclay didn’t want to disappoint his friend. So he avoided the question.

“That depends,” Barclay answered. “Will Runa still be imprisoned for murder when we return?”

“I’m being serious.” She reached onto the ground and scooped up several green walnuts. “You could be a great Lore Keeper, you know.”

Barclay did know that, and that was what made it so hard. He could become the apprentice to an incredible, famous Master with the Guild, and he could travel the world. His life would be one adventure after the other. Or he could return to Dullshire, a town that had never wanted him anyway. He’d have to be forever on his best behavior. No running. No dirt. No being who he really was.

“Runa said that it takes a Beast of a higher class to remove a Mark,” Barclay murmured, finally revealing his true thoughts. He gave Viola a pointed look.

“Barclay, Gravaldor isn’t a regular Beast! And without a Keeper, it’s probably impossible.”

“You don’t know that,” he countered.

“Is being a Lore Keeper really such a horrible thing?” she said, her voice rising. “Are we all just as terrible as you thought we were?”

That wasn’t it—that wasn’t it at all. But he was frustrated, so he snapped back, “We are in a race to stop a Lore Keeper from destroying the Woods or becoming so powerful that he could destroy the Woods, if he wanted to.”

“Yes, but—”

“And up until yesterday, didn’t you want to summon Gravaldor for the same reason?” he asked.

She gaped. “I wanted to bond with Gravaldor, yes, but not for the same reason Soren does. How could you even think that?”

“Then tell me the real reason,” he challenged.

“Because Cyril fired me as his student,” she said bitterly. “It didn’t matter how well I did in my Exhibition—I wasn’t good enough for his standards. I need to prove to him that I am.”

Barclay’s anger sobered. He’d suspected something bad had happened, but it didn’t make him feel any better to hear her say it. “Why not just find a new Master?” he asked.