Tadg jabbed his finger into Barclay’s chest.

“Whatever you think you know, you’re wrong. I can’t say anything or he’d find out. And I don’t trust any of your friends. But if I were you, I’d leave Sycomore tonight and go back to that town of yours. If you warn them now, maybe you can—”

“And let you win tomorrow?” Barclay scoffed. He saw exactly what Tadg was doing.

“To be clear,” Tadg said flatly, “you wouldn’t win.”

“We’ll find out.”

“To be clearer,” Tadg hissed, “I’m warning you: if you compete tomorrow, you’ll regret it.” He lowered his voice. “Run off and mention this to Runa if you want, but she won’t be able to stop me.”

And with that, Tadg stalked off, leaving Barclay furious and alone on the field. He would not be scared out of competing tomorrow. He had a Mythic class Beast, just like Tadg. He had come this far for Runa, and he wouldn’t back down now.

“What happened?” Ethel asked when Barclay rejoined the table.

“He was trying to convince me not to fight,” Barclay said. “In fact, he said I should leave Sycomore.”

“That coward. I knew it,” Abel muttered.

“There’s more—I think you’re right. I think he’s already Soren’s apprentice.”

Viola furrowed her eyebrows. “Did he say that?”

They already knew that Soren and Conley Murdock used to be partners. And when he thought about it, Tadg had been shocked when Barclay had returned from the Woods after Soren attacked him… very shocked. As though he hadn’t thought he’d come back at all. As though he knew he wouldn’t.

And then there was Runa forbidding Tadg from going to the Bog’s Inn, how he’d gone to Soren’s lecture over hers…

“He tried to deny it,” Barclay said, “but it was obvious what he was doing. He wants me to leave. He’s scared of losing.”

“If he really is Soren’s apprentice,” said Viola carefully, “then maybe you should tell someone. Like Runa. You could be in danger tomorrow during the match.”

“Erhart won’t call off the match,” Abel said, “even if Runa wanted him to.”

“Of course not! Erhart practically worships Soren.” Barclay nodded at where they were seated together across the field, drinking from those flaming goblets. “Tadg even said Runa ‘won’t be able to stop me.’ ”

“I don’t like this,” Viola murmured.

“You have to fight,” Ethel told him.

“You have to win,” Abel finished.

Barclay had every intention of winning. He had not journeyed across the Woods, nearly getting himself killed or eaten on multiple occasions, only to back down because of cruel threats. This was the one time in Barclay’s life that he would not run.

He would get his life back. The life that his parents had wanted for him.

Barclay raised his mug of cider. “To victory,” he said.

“To victory,” the others echoed, smacking mugs.

The next morning, when Barclay returned to the field, he expected all the festivities of the night before, if not more. It was the day of the final match and the day before Midwinter, yet the area was almost deserted.