Once the Beast had been struck down, the mirror disappeared, and the real Ethel stumbled onto the field. She raised her hands, still out of breath, and called, “I forfeit! The match is over!”
Barclay called off the wind, and Ethel ran to take care of her Beast.
“You can only see it with a mirror,” Barclay said with surprise.
“It’s called a Doppelgheist. I’m surprised you figured it out so quickly. Most people don’t.” Her voice was tight, and Barclay hoped she wasn’t angry with him. But then she turned to him and smiled. “You know, you’d make agreat Lore Keeper, Barclay. If you wanted to be one.”
Barclay’s own smile faded.
“Idon’twant to be one. So just… just stop. You can all stop.”
He grabbed his scarf off the ground and stormed away, hoping to hide the telltale flush in his cheeks.
Viola must’ve heeded Barclay’s words, because she didn’t leave that evening. Instead, she stowedA Traveler’s Logaway in her bag and rented a table for their friends. A rusty chimenea crackled with fire behind the four of them, casting a comfortable warmth beneath the tent alongside the exam field, where much of Sycomore had gathered for the Exhibition and holiday celebrations. On each table stood large glass jars filled with fireflylike Beasts called Zaplings, which Mitzi poked and snarled at. Chandeliers of evergreen branches hung overhead, drooping with garlands of cranberries and ornaments of twine and cinnamon sticks.
For the first time, Barclay was aware of Ethel’s and Abel’s Doppelgheists out of their Marks. The grass beside the table was dented where they sat, a bowl hovering midair in their invisible grasps as they devoured maple-flavored Beast treats.
It made him feel guilty that Root wasn’t joining them, but Barclay only had one more match separating him and first place. He couldn’t afford to question his decision now.
“I mean, you’re my friend,” Abel said, slapping Barclayon the back so hard, he choked on his sip of pear cider. “But now I don’t just want you to win. Ineedyou to win. If Tadg gets first in the Exhibition, I’ll…”
“You’ll what?” Ethel asked, arching her eyebrows.
“I’ll jump into a mirror and never come back,” Abel declared miserably. When Barclay gave him a horrified look, Abel laughed. “It’s not bad in there. I call it the mirror world. Lots of glittery reflected light. I can travel nearly anywhere I want in barely any time, so long as there’s a mirror to jump out of. Quite nice, really—”
“You don’t need to pressure him,” Viola snapped. “Barclay has enough to think about.Don’t you, Barclay?”
Barclay dodged her pointed look, his face reddening. If Viola had changed her mind about going after Gravaldor, then maybe he could change his mind about being a Lore Keeper, too.
No, he thought, thinking of his parents. His situation was different.
“It’s not pressure,” Abel said. “It’s just… very strong support. I just don’t want to see fish food win.”
Someone grabbed Abel by the shoulder and spun him around. It was Tadg, seething. He let go of Abel and cracked his knuckles.
“If you like it so much,” Tadg growled, “I’d be happy to send you back to your mirror world.”
Abel jolted and spilled his mug all over the table. “Why do you keep doing that? You stalking us now?”
Tadg ignored him and met eyes with Barclay. “I was wondering if I could speak with you in private.”
Barclay didn’t like the idea, but he doubted even Tadg would try something the night before the final match, especially in such a public place. His friends, however, shot him warning looks.
“Whatever you want to say to Barclay,” said Viola coolly, “you can say in front of all of us.” Mitzi nodded and squawked in agreement.
“It’s fine,” Barclay mumbled, not wanting to cause a scene.
He followed Tadg out of the tent toward the field. It was so crowded with people stargazing on quilts and shopkeepers selling sparkler sticks and peppermint bark that it was difficult for Barclay to picture battling Tadg here tomorrow.
Like Barclay, Tadg had won all his matches without even needing to summon his Beast.
“Um,” Barclay said awkwardly. “Whatever happens tomorrow, I—”
“The annual Exhibition is in the Spring every year. Did you know that?” Tadg asked. Barclay vaguely remembered Erhart mentioning how they’d moved it earlier, but he didn’t have a chance to respond before Tadg grumbled, “I mean, why would you? You’re from the Elsewheres.”
Barclay’s attempts at politeness quickly died.
“I get it—I don’t know anything about Lore Keepers! I’m not from a Wilderland! But I made it to the final match, just like you. I’m not—”
