“You trust Runa, don’t you, Barclay?” Tadg demanded.

“Of course I do,” Barclay said. “But the Isle of Roane is more important. We have to—”

“No, you know what is important? Loyalty. And you both have none of it.”

Tadg marched across the beach.

Barclay and Viola exchanged an alarmed look, and Barclay dashed after Tadg.

“Tadg—Tadg,” Barclay huffed. “It’s the middle of the night. You can’t just barge into Runa’s room and ask if she murdered somebody.”

“So you’re on Viola’s side too? You always are.”

That might’ve been true, but Tadg made it hard for anyone to want to side with him. Barclay hadn’t even realized Tadg wanted him to.

And Barclay was loyal, no matter what Tadg thought.

“You win,” Barclay said. “We’ll ask Runa. But then we’re telling her about the Isle of Roane.”

But when the three of them reached the Guild House, the ruckus inside had finally gone quiet. Barclay twisted the knob—locked. He grabbed Tadg’s fist in midair before he could bang on the door.

“If you wake up all the Guardians, they’re going to find out about Cyril’s story,” Barclay warned him. “That will only make things worse for Runa.”

Tadg wrenched his hand away, seething. “Fine. We’ll wait until morning.”

Tadg stalked back toward the Planty Shanty. Once he was out of earshot, Barclay murmured to Viola, “We’ll talk in the morning.”

Barclay didn’t feel they had any right to be in Ansley’s store anymore. Yasha must’ve thought so too, because when the two boys stormed upstairs, the attic was empty. Amid all the drama, Yasha must’ve decided to stay with Edwyn.

Tadg threw himself onto his bed, not bothering to change into pajamas.

Tadg wasn’t the only one who felt frustrated, but even so, Barclay took a deep breath and said, “I’m sorry for what Cyril said about Runa. I know that must’ve been hard to hear.”

Barclay waited while holding his breath. Talking to Tadg when he was like this felt like jabbing a stick into the side of a sleeping Beast. But it also felt wrong not to say anything.

When Tadg didn’t respond, only pressed his face into his pillow, Barclay continued. The silence was too awkward not to break it. “She’s practically family to you. And, well, she’s kind of like family to me, too. The closest I’ve got, anyway.”

Tadg grunted something unintelligible into the pillow.

“What?” Barclay asked.

It took Tadg several seconds to speak again, and when he did, his voice cracked. “I said that they didn’t even think about it.”

“Think about what?”