Barclay’s imagination was already conjuring up terrible futures for himself. He could stay in Sycomore forever, cleaning up Beast droppings along the streets until a Beast accidentally ate him. He could run off to some faraway village, change his name, grow a beard, and speak to no one until the day he died.

“You won’t be hopeless! You’ll probably be the only apprentice in the Exhibition with a Mythic class Beast.”

“I don’t think so,” Barclay said, thinking of Tadg. “Besides, that won’t matter if I’m the first apprentice in Sycomore to be eaten by my own Beast.”

Viola rolled her eyes. “Are you going to enter or not?”

Barclay sighed, his anger already settling into something sharper, harder—like stone forged into steel.

Viola didn’t know him very well. She only knew him as an Elsie, but Barclay was more than that. He was the boy who’d had to work for his every meal. Who’d memorized everything he could about mushrooms before he even started his apprenticeship so he could prove to Master Pilzmann that he was worthy of the job. Who’d never had anyone looking out for him.

“Of course I’ll enter,” he said determinedly. “I could die. I could make a fool of myself. But I’m still going to try to win.”

At that, Viola took him by the shoulder and marched him around to the back of the Guild House, where kids lined up in front of a registration table. Barclay recognized a few of the faces from earlier, including Tadg. He was, once again, surrounded by a crowd of admirers. He kept his sleeves rolled up to show off his massive snakelike Beast Mark, even though it was bitterly cold.

Viola untucked her scarf from her coat and wrapped it around her head like a makeshift hood, then yanked it down so that it nearly covered her eyes. It looked a bit funny, though, as her hair buns made it all lumpy.

“What are you doing?” asked Barclay.

“I don’t want to be recognized.”

“Afraid people will dote on you?”

“No,” she snapped. “I’m afraid people will think I’m entering. There will be gossip.”

Her words reminded him of what the three Lore Masters had said earlier, that Viola was the apprentice to a man named Cyril Harlow.

“You’re already a Guild apprentice, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Yes,” she squeaked, ducking behind his shoulder. She clearly cared a lot about what people thought about her.

“Do apprentices often travel without their Masters?”

“Um, yes. All the time.”

He narrowed his eyes. Every person in Sycomore had been surprised to see her here.

Before he could question her further, he was interrupted by commotion ahead of them.

“What did you say to me?” a voice sneered.

Barclay recognized that voice, and he turned to see it belonged to Tadg. He was leering at two kids who appeared to be brother and sister—twins. They were the same height, with the same scruffy brown hair, beige skin, and patchy coats. They each had a dark birthmark on their cheek. For the boy, it was on his left. For the girl, it was on her right. Like mirrors of each other.