“I’m going to be a great Guardian one day,” Barclay whispered to Root. The words were too bold to speak very loud. He didn’t want to jinx them.

Root didn’t seem worried about jinxes, though. He barked in agreement.

Barclay snuggled next to Root in bed and read, not a silly textbook, but an adventure story he’d borrowed from the library. It was exactly as a good book should be, an old, dusty tome with wrinkled pages and grains of sand stuck in its spine. In the opening chapter, a brave heroine named Maedigan—much like their cove—struck out on a quest to slay Lochmordra after he’d swallowed her father’s ship.

Barclay happily tumbled into the adventure.

Until the smell of smoke wafted beneath the crack of the attic door.

“Ansley?” he called nervously. When no one responded, he set his book on the nightstand, and he and Root crept downstairs.

The Planty Shanty was eerily dark—all the shutters had been closed. The only light came from the red flames of the Fire Coral, which was out of its tank and burning in the center of the room. Ansley hunched over it, her back to him.

Now Barclay was twice as nervous.

“Ansley?” he said again. Beside him, Root’s ears and tail were perked high on alert.

Ansley whipped around. She wore soot-stained goggles over her eyes and oven mitts on both hands. Coughing, she waved the smoke away from her face. “Barclay? I thought you were at the Guild House.”

“I stayed behind. What are you doing?” By the look of it, burning her shop down.

“Oh, just some research. Orla asked me if I could find some sort of medicine to prevent Beasts from being affected by the weeping tide. I haven’t found it yet, but I will. The weeping tide is a Trite class Beast, which is exactly the expertise of Apothecaries. And all Apothecaries know that if one sort of Lore does one thing, there’s always another Lore to counteract it.”

“But why would the Fire Coral make an antidote?” Barclay asked. “I thought the weeping tide liked the—”

Heat.

Of course. Why hadn’t he pieced it together before?

“The vents have been making the Sea warmer.” Barclay’s words spilled out in a rush. “That’s why the weeping tide keeps blooming. It likes the heat!”

Ansley did not look as surprised by this news as he’d expected. Instead she stroked an oven mitt over the Fire Coral’s grooves. “Yes, yes. I’ve guessed as much about the weeping tide for a long time now. But as for the antidote, I think Fire Coral is worth the study. It’s a rare, prized find after all. It’s even one of the ingredients in Lochmordra’s snare.”

Barclay froze. “You know Lochmordra’s bonding items?”