The Beast watched Barclay the entire time it ate, as though it would rather be eatinghim.
That night at the Ironwood Inn, Viola, Ethel, and Abel all pummeled Barclay with advice.
“You need to be his alpha,” said Abel. “He’s like a wolf, isn’t he? He needs to respect you.”
“If you keep feeding him, I’m sure he will grow nicer,” Ethel told Barclay. Then she paused and added, “And maybe a bit heavier, but I’m sure that’s fine.”
“You just scared him a little,” said Viola. “You only need him to trust you. You’re his partner. His Keeper.”
As she said this, Mitzi scampered onto the table and lunged for Viola’s mug of cider—Mitzi had developed an obsession with the drink. She stuck her wing in it and dumped it all over the table.
Viola scowled and wiped away the puddle. “On second thought, maybe youshouldbe his alpha. Maybe then he willlisten to you.” She shot Mitzi an annoyed look.
Mitzi squawked defiantly and tore at Viola’s napkin.
But even though Barclay knew the three of them understood way more about Beasts than he did, he didn’t think any of them were right. His Beast hadn’t seemed defiant or mean or suspicious when they’d escaped from Soren. It’d seemed… impatient, maybe. Like it was waiting for something.
But that was then. Now he had no idea what to make of the Lufthund.
Barclay miserably laid his head against the table. “Tadg is right. I’m going to die during the practical. If anyone should feel scared, it’s me. You saw how the Lufthund looks at me! I’m not its alpha or its partner. I’m its dinner!”
“What happens if youcan’tremove your Mark, Barclay?” Ethel asked him.
“I think Soren will do it for you,” Abel said darkly.
Viola frowned and squeezed Barclay’s shoulder. “We won’t let that happen.”
“Even if you don’t come in first,” Ethel said cheerily, “a Lore Master could still take you on as an apprentice! Then you could join the Guild, like us.”
Even though Ethel’s words were meant to be comforting, they only made Barclay more depressed. Unless he managed the impossible and beat Tadg to claim first, he had no choice: he’d have to remain a Lore Keeper forever. He’d never return to Dullshire. He’d never see Master Pilzmann or Mrs. Havener again.
It was true that Barclay had once longed for an adventure, but even then, he had never wanted one like this. What he really wanted was to make his parents proud, and the last thing his parents would’ve wished for was for Barclay to live in the world of Beasts when they’d been killed by one.
“I have a great idea!” Ethel squeaked. She reached into her backpack and pulled out a crumpled flyer. “Lecture Day is coming up—it’s the day before the second exam, when the Lore Keeper Masters put on presentations for the students, so that students can hear more about the instructors and the different subjects they specialize in. We could all go together and find you a Master!”
Unable to take another second of their enthusiasm, Barclay stood up. “I need some air,” he declared, and he walked out into the Winter night.
A half hour later Barclay pressed his back into a tree trunk and held out the squirrel meat. “Take it! Just take it!”
The Lufthund sniffed it suspiciously. With its black fur, the Beast was nearly impossible to see in the darkness. It was reckless, Barclay knew, to spend time alone with it. There was no one around, no sounds but the hoots of owls. No one to witness if Barclay got eaten.
But Barclay didn’t want a backup plan, like Ethel had suggested. In order to win the next exam, he’d have to take risks. To do whatever it took.
With the Beast’s fangs dangerously close to his hand, Barclay once again tossed the meat into the snow. This time the Lufthund didn’t even eat it. It sniffed it, then wrinkled its snout like it was actually picky about what food it ate.
“Youwillobey me,” Barclay told it. “Because you are a Beast and I’m your Keeper. And I need you to. I don’t care what they say—I can’t be a Lore Keeper forever.”
While the Lufthund was distracted with inspecting the squirrel meat, Barclay tried once again to summon wind. He’d placed a pine cone on the remains of a rotted tree stump, and he aimed to topple it over. A wind appeared, though far above Barclay’s head, rattling the branches. The cone remained in place.
Barclay collapsed onto the stump and stared at his Beast. The Beast let out a loud huff from its nostrils, and its tail twitched. Like it was laughing at him.
“I’m no good at this,” Barclay grumbled. “Even if I did stay here, I’d make a terrible Lore Keeper.”
The Beast huffed again, as though agreeing with him.
“Think I’m funny, do you?” Barclay asked. When the Lufthund padded closer, Barclay reached into his pocket for his Beast-warding charm. The Lufthund eyed it curiously, even when he should have been shrinking away.
“Viola was right. This doesn’t work, does it?”
