Few students paid attention during Athna’s lecture that followed, as they were all still shaking Anthorns out of their coat sleeves. In the commotion, Barclay had left his textbook in the Ironwood Inn, and so he and Viola whispered instead of studying.

“It’s a shame,” Viola said. “Floriane is very well-known! Her tinctures and potions have done a lot of good. I considered apprenticing to an Apothecary Master—I’ve always been good at traps—but Dad would never have dreamed of it.”

“Why not?” Barclay asked.

“Oh, the Dumonts have all been Guardians. It’s the family trade, and it’s what I wanted in the end, anyway.” She gave him a sly smile. “But an Apothecary Master might be a good fit for you! I’m sure there’s lots of crossover with mushroom farming—”

“Stop doing that,” he snapped. “Stop trying to make me a Lore Keeper.”

“Oh, you’re not fooling me. I’ve seen you slipping out at night to spend time with Root.”

Barclay glowered. Viola was as sneaky as she was smart.

“We’re only training. I need to win, in case you’ve forgotten. I’m not going to beat Tadg by getting enough sleep.”

“Or could it be that you don’t hate Root or Sycomore as much as you thought you would?”

Barclay crossed his arms and pretended to listen to Athna’s presentation about fossilized remnants of forgotten Beasts.

“So you’re going to brood and ignore me now?” Viola asked.

He didn’t answer.

“At least talk to me about something, so I don’t have to pay attention to everyone still staring at me.”

Barclay struggled not to smile, preferring—as Viola had accused—to continue brooding. “It must be so exhausting having people give you things and be so polite all the time, Your Highness.”

She elbowed him in the side. “They’re not being polite. They think I ran away.”

“Well, did you?” he asked. Viola didn’t strike him as the sort to abandon her teacher.

She sighed and stood up. “I think it’s better that I not go to Runa’s lecture. But Abel and Ethel should be back by then.” She handed him her copy of A Traveler’s Log. “Just… just read the page that I bookmarked. I think it might help you.”

Before Barclay could protest, she left, and his bitter mood soured further. He did not like Root. He did not like Sycomore.

Thankfully, Ethel and Abel did return for Runa’s presentation—Abel with a strange green ointment on his face, but otherwise well. Tadg was gone, which suited Barclay fine—he didn’t want to see Tadg and Abel stir up another fight. Then he remembered that Soren, also a Guardian, was giving his lecture at the same time as Runa. So Tadg had left to spend time with his future Master. Well, they deserved each other.

Runa held her presentation in the Guild House, and even though it was the town’s largest building, students were crammed inside, filling the tables, standing along the sides, and seated on the beer-sticky floor.

While Abel described the gory details of what had happened to him in outrageous exaggerations (“The sap exploded all over my face! I was covered. Hot like lava.”), Barclay opened A Traveler’s Log to the page Viola had marked.