at Soren’s side. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Soren. I take honesty into account.” She tore the stack of papers from Soren’s hands. “As a proctor, I mean,” she added curtly.
Soren glared at Runa for a moment, then turned to Tadg. He jerked his head toward the door. “Run along, then.”
Tadg stalked past Barclay, Abel, and Ethel without so much as an insult or a shove. He stormed out into the snow, leaving his usual posse behind him.
Abel snorted. “Probably thinks he’s above all this. He doesn’t need to cheat if he has Soren, does he?”
“What do you mean, ‘has Soren’?” Barclay asked.
“Soren Reiker and Conley Murdock used to be partners—they were writing the sequel to Murdock’s book together before Murdock died,” Abel explained. “So of course Soren will make sure Tadg does well. That’s probably why he tried to steal your Beast, Barclay! You’re the only other student with a Mythic Beast—he must think you’ll hurt Tadg’s chances.”
It was possible, Barclay supposed, though he hadn’t ever told Soren he planned on entering the Exhibition. But it didn’t surprise him that Tadg and Soren could be working together. Unpleasant people always had a way of finding one another.
Abel sighed. “Must be nice to be rich like that. And to travel. I’ve been stuck in the Woods my whole life.” He kicked at the edge of a loose floorboard.
“Never mind that,” Ethel said, sounding worried. “Do you really think Runa will take honesty into account?”
“Shouldn’t she?” Barclay asked. “I mean, how can you award first place to someone who doesn’t deserve it?”
Abel shook his head. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Erhart wrote the test, and he purposefully made the test too hard to pass. Because it’s important to be resourceful and crafty, not just to be smart.”
“But what about to be good?” Barclay pressed.
Abel gave him an inquisitive look. “Is it not like this in the towns beyond the Woods?”
Barclay shook his head bitterly. “No. Nothing is.”
* * *
The exam results were posted later that evening on a long roll of parchment pinned to the bulletin board outside the Guild House. A crowd of students milled around it, each shouting in despair or glee when they spotted their names. It took Barclay, Abel, and Ethel ages to make it to the front of the masses, Viola hovering nervously behind them.
Even though it was freezing outside, Barclay was sweating so much, his hair was plastered to his neck. He better start preparing his application as a poop-cleaner.
“I placed seventh!” Ethel squealed. “Abel, you got twenty-ninth!”
Abel grinned and stretched his arms behind his head. “See? Nothing to worry about.”
Being so short, Barclay had to squeeze his way past the others to see the scores. And his shoulders fell in relief when he spotted his name.
Second place.
His happiness was short-lived.
“Barclay Thorne?” a student sneered beside him, jabbing his finger on the score list. “Who’s that?”
“Isn’t that the Elsie?” someone else asked.
“But that’s not fair! There’s no way he did better than I did. My parents quizzed me for weeks.”
Viola squeezed Barclay’s shoulder and steered him out of the crowds. “You did amazing, Barclay!”
“But I… I barely knew anything!” he said, careful to keep his voice down.
“Runa must’ve convinced Mandeep to go against Erhart. After all, everyone else cheated!”
Though Barclay wasn’t exactly proud of his achievement, Viola’s words did make him feel like less of a fraud. Even Ethel and Abel, as competitive as they were, gave Barclay congratulatory smiles.
“Second?” someone smirked behind them.
Barclay turned and scowled. He should’ve known Tadg wouldn’t be without his admirers for long.
“You must be feeling pretty lucky, Elsie,” Tadg laughed. “Because we’re taking bets for the next round. The odds are two hundred to one that you don’t make it out alive.”
Barclay could think of nothing to say. After all, Tadg was right. He was hopeless.
“I’d bet on him beating you,” Viola mumbled under her breath.
Tadg snorted, and Viola seemed to shrink under the scrutiny of him and his friends behind him. “Well, if the daughter of the Grand Keeper thinks so…”
When Viola looked away nervously, Barclay demanded, “What gives you the right to act so full of yourself? What slot did you get, anyway?”
Tadg smirked and nodded at the parchment. His name was at the top. First place.
He hadn’t cheated either.
Tadg took a step closer to Barclay, and Barclay wondered if he should’ve kept his mouth shut. After years dealing with Falk, he knew all goading ever got him was a black eye. Especially when Tadg