Fear seized Barclay—Runa was the only person in Sycomore who knew how to help him.

“You can’t send Runa away!” he shouted, loudly enough to make other students’ heads turn. Many of their eyes widened.

Erhart cleared his throat. He must have thought Viola’s earlier comment was true, because he said, quite loudly, “You misheard! I’d do no such thing.” Then, once the crowd looked appeased, he lowered his voice. “I don’t want to hear any more of this about Soren. Not from you, or from Miss Rasgar.”

“Yes,” Soren purred. “I think that’s quite enough. It was nice to meet you.” He handed Ethel back her notebook. Then, with one last vicious smile, he led Erhart to the other end of the field.

Once they were both out of earshot, Barclay moaned to the twins, “Now Soren will be after your Beasts too!”

Ethel glanced at the first page of her notebook and swallowed. “I’d like to see him try.”

“What do you think Erhart meant by the ‘uglier sides of Miss Rasgar’s reputation’?” Abel asked. “That didn’t sound like he meant Dooling.…”

“Well, Soren and Runa must know each other,” Viola said.

She pulled out her copy of A Traveler’s Log and turned to the final pages.

“In the acknowledgments, Murdock thanks Soren as a beneficiary—seems like Soren helped pay for a portion of Murdock’s travels. He calls him ‘a fellow enthusiast of the incredible Legendary Beasts,’ ” Viola read. “That makes sense—everyone knows Soren was helping Murdock write his sequel, which he never finished. Then, later, he writes: ‘And to my dear friend, Runa Rasgar, without whose support I never would have written this record down.’ ”

“So they both knew Murdock,” Abel said.

“Do you think Runa was somehow involved in Murdock’s death?” Viola asked, anxiously stroking Mitzi’s back.

Abel shrugged. “I don’t know, but I don’t feel too sorry for Tadg, the way he acts. Real full of himself, isn’t he?”

“Um, Abel—” Ethel squeaked, looking over Abel’s shoulder.

“Well, I wouldn’t be if I only had my Beast because my dead father—”

“Abel—” Viola cut in.

“Gave me his, would I?”

Behind them, someone cleared their throat. Barclay and Abel whipped around, and Tadg stood there, his face redder than the top of a Mourningtide Morel.

“I won’t feel too sorry either”—he growled—“when I send you back to your no-name village in pieces.”

Abel stood up and pushed Tadg away. Barclay’s eyes widened. He didn’t put it past either of them to start a fight.

“Try it, then,” Abel snapped. “I dare you. Let’s see that Beast you brag so much about.”

Tadg’s fingers curled into a fist, the golden Mark of the Nathermara coiling over his skin. He glanced at Barclay, Viola, and Ethel, all frozen on the bench behind Abel, as though considering his odds, four against one. Tadg’s eyes fell on Ethel’s open notebook and narrowed. She hurriedly snapped it closed.

The fire in Tadg’s eyes faded, and he turned back to Abel. “You don’t know what you’re asking. You collect cards and toys, but my Beast isn’t a plaything. There’s a difference between a companion and a monster.”