Barclay’s thoughts were hazy from not sleeping, but he did remember this one. A whale dragon known as a Silberwal. Barclay scratched the answer down in the clawlike Lore Keeper script, finding that the writing came as naturally to him as the alphabet he had used in Dullshire—so easily that it was a tiny bit eerie.

His confidence grew—he could manage this test. He wouldn’t fail.

In what city is the Guild of the Tundra headquartered?

He didn’t know that one.

What are the seventeen life stages of a dragon?

What is the only Beast capable of immortality?

How many Lore Keepers, throughout all of recorded history, have bonded with a Legendary Beast?

Barclay didn’t know any of these questions either. He scanned the rest of the exam and filled in the few he did know, and then, with fifty minutes of the test to spare, had nothing to do but sit and panic.

He was going to fail. He wouldn’t come in first. Runa would never tell him how to break his bond.

When he glanced at the stage, Runa wasn’t looking at him. Soren looked nowhere else but him. Barclay felt so nervous, he could burst.

I could cheat, he thought. He’d never cheated in his life, but he was desperate enough now to try. Except the brooch would turn red, and Mandeep and Runa would disqualify him for sure. That was worse than failing.

And so Barclay sat there for the rest of the exam, planning out his miserable future as a Beast poop-cleaner.

At the sixty-two-minute finishing mark, Mandeep called, “The time has expired! Students, please return your exam booklets and brooches to the Masters. Your tests will be graded and the results posted this evening.”

Barclay turned to Ethel to moan about his failure, but before he did, he noticed her brooch had gone red, like a piece of fiery coal.

He turned around. Nearly every student’s brooch was red. The only ones that weren’t belonged to him… and Tadg.

Erhart even wrote this exam himself, Ethel had told him. Barclay realized it didn’t matter if you cheated. All the brooches did was tell the proctors that you had. There would be no disqualifying. No consequences.

He turned in his exam feeling worse than foolish—feeling pathetic.

Abel and Ethel waited for him at the door. Ethel looked rather pale, but Abel yawned and stretched his arms behind his head.

“I’m ready for a nap,” Abel told them. “You look like you could use one too, Barclay. And a mug of pear cider.”

“You couldn’t mean Ironwood Inn cider, could you?” a cool voice asked from behind them. It was Soren.

Barclay took a frightened step backward. “I… No…”

“Yes!” Abel said brightly. Barclay recognized a grown-up-pleasing face when he saw one, though he wouldn’t have expected one from Abel. “Best in town. That’s why we’re staying there.”

Barclay could have kicked him. Now he’d have to fear Soren trying to murder him in his bed.