The Beast whined again, and it was such a sad sound that Barclay suddenly felt rather bad for it. Viola had said that Lufthunds weren’t pack animals, but maybe this one got lonely. As an orphan with few real friends, Barclay knew the feeling.

“Fine,” Barclay told it, trudging to the closest street. Lightning bugs filled the lanterns dangling from the trees, lighting the path. He didn’t know his way around Sycomore, but the winding alleys called to him, urging him to run, no matter if he got lost.

But still he hesitated. No running. No filth. No wildness. It was hard to shake off Dullshire’s rules, even if he wasn’t in Dullshire anymore. But then a breeze rushed past, as though asking him to join it. And Barclay realized there was something to like about Sycomore after all.

He took off.

It felt so good, the wind in his hair, his heart pounding. He knew every corner and cranny of Dullshire, and he was surprised by how much he loved the feeling of getting lost in Sycomore. Every turn meant a new discovery. A small adventure.

The Lufthund caught up and ran beside him. Barclay considered stopping—the Beast was not helping him clear his head. But the Lufthund looked more content than Barclay had ever seen it, its tail wagging, its jaws open like a smile. It clearly loved this as much as Barclay did.

So Barclay decided to let the Beast stay beside him. To keep running.

It couldn’t hurt, just for one night.

FIFTEEN

Barclay didn’t tell the others about his night running with the Lufthund. He didn’t want them to think he was second-guessing his decision to go back to Dullshire, because he wasn’t. His life had changed so much in the past week that he just needed a moment to think.

That didn’t mean he’d betrayed his parents.

But if that was true, then why did he feel a little bit guilty?

The next morning the four of them registered for Lecture Day. It was required for Barclay, Ethel, and Abel—but the rest of Sycomore was invited to attend as well. Barclay registered for all the Masters he recognized—except for Soren, of course.

When Barclay spotted Tadg’s name on the list, he wasn’t the least bit surprised to see he had registered for Soren’s lecture over Runa’s.

With several days to wait until Lecture Day, Barclay still had plenty of time to train for the second exam. The four of them ventured out to a field where other students sat on benches surrounding a bonfire, passing around champion cards and playing with their Beasts. The air smelled like any good Winter day should, like smoke and pine and fresh cider.

“What is it?” Barclay asked, catching Viola staring at him.

“You stopped combing your hair flat,” she said. “It looks much better.”

“And you don’t smell like skunks anymore,” Ethel added.

He stiffened, suddenly self-conscious. “I—”