“Leave,” Runa snapped at Cyril, ignoring the High Keeper. “I don’t want to look at you.”

“My apprentices and I traveled all the way here from Halois,” Cyril told her dryly. “I have no intention of making them repeat the same—”

“Then you should’ve arrived before I did.” Runa stormed toward him and jabbed her finger into his chest. Barclay shuddered. In a choice between facing another Silberwal or Runa Rasgar, he’d take the Silberwal. But Cyril didn’t even flinch.

“Really, Runa,” Orla said with a tsk. “I don’t think—”

“I might’ve arrived first,” Cyril growled at Runa, “had I not been forced to travel to the Woods last Winter because you’d gotten yourself into trouble.”

Runa barked out a laugh. “Oh please. You couldn’t wait to tell Erhart whatever lies you—”

“Lies? I’m the only one who knows what you’ve done—me and Leopold. You might’ve squandered the past eight years playing your Dooling games and doing who knows what else, but I have worked directly with Leopold—”

“Yes, I see you and our old teacher are on a first name basis now,” Runa said coldly. “That must’ve been the most exciting day of your life, when he finally learned your name.”

Cyril’s ears burned crimson. “I—I—” he blustered. “At least he has one student to be proud of. You know what he says when your name comes up? You know what he told me when he learned that you are his daughter’s new mentor? He said that you—”

Orla grew increasingly flustered. “Cyril—Runa—”

“—were a lost cause from the moment he started teaching the three of us,” Cyril continued, seething. “And that if any of us were going to be the one to betray him, he would’ve guessed it was you.”

Runa and Cyril had clearly forgotten anyone else was in the room. Barclay felt bad for eavesdropping on a private conversation, but he couldn’t help being curious. Viola had told him that Runa and Cyril had once been the Grand Keeper’s apprentices, but Cyril had said “the three of us.” Who had been the third?

An icy mist shimmered around Runa’s fingertips. “Then go back to doing all Leopold’s paperwork and errands for him, since that’s what obviously makes the both of you so happy.”

Beside Cyril, the closest rocking chair began to warp. The wood bent into sharper, thornier shapes, making the chair wobble and crash to the floor.

“Really?” Orla placed her hands on her hips. “My furniture? That is an antique.”

But the two of them didn’t listen. Goath had slithered up Runa’s shoulder and down her arm, as though a skeletal armor, ready for battle. And the floorboards beneath Cyril’s feet peeled back and curled like fingernails.