Weysh was used to all of it—used to the careful dance they all did around the long, oak table to make sure he and Montpierre weren’t seated too closely; used to all the curtains being open to let in as much sunlight as possible (the sunlight is good for your condition, my heart, his maman would tell Montpierre); used to the strong, medicinal sting of cam-cam incense. His mother often burned it because it was known to open the passages of the body. Even so, Montpierre periodically held a handkerchief to his mouth and coughed into it, the sound hacking and dreadful.

Whenever he did, both Sylvie and his maman leaned unconsciously toward him, even as they gave their quiche and croissants more attention than necessary.

“It’s warming up,” Weysh offered after a particularly echoing bout of coughing. “The doctors say that should help the cough, en, Montpierre?”

Montpierre grunted.

“Why don’t we sit in the back garden for a while after breakfast, Papa?” said Sylvie. “The fresh air would be nice.”

“In this morning chill? No, child, I plan to retire to my study. I’ll leave the gallivanting to you three.”

“Actually, Montpierre, I’d like to have a word with you, if I could,” said Weysh. He chanced a quick look at his mother and saw her eyebrows raise. Weysh had debated going to her, having her act as intermediary on his behalf, but in the end he decided he must face Montpierre man to man.

Montpierre’s fork paused on the way to his mouth, the piece of melon there dangling dangerously. “You’d like to have a word with me,” he said flatly.

Weysh met his eyes steadily. Gone were the days when he was a child and Montpierre could quell him with a look. “I would.”

“Love,” said his mother softly. He wasn’t sure who she was talking to exactly, but Montpierre closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and shook it resignedly. “So be it. You’ll join me in the study after breakfast.”

Weysh nodded. “Much appreciated.”

Montpierre grunted again. “Well, at least you’re learning some manners at Prevan.”

Weysh froze. I don’t see what it matters to you, en? It’s not like you’re paying, Weysh wanted to retort aloud, but he held his tongue. It was an effort, but for Yenni Ajani he held his tongue, simply giving Montpierre a tight smile. Sylvie caught his eye and shot him a quizzical look. Weysh shook his head in a gesture that said I’ll explain later.

She gave a small shrug. “Oh! Speaking of Prevan, Weysh, how is your Given? Is she coming around?”

His mother made small noise of concern. “Yes, Sylvie told me the two of you had not gotten off to the best of starts. I hope things have improved, I do want to meet her.”