Four days had passed and second-term classes were in session, but Weysh hadn’t seen Yenni since the night they’d kissed. Part of him wanted to seek her out—he was sure of what he’d caught in her scent, tasted on her lips—but there was only so much rejection his bruised ego could take at once, especially after the fiasco with his family.

He still hadn’t been to see his maman and Sylvie either. The presents he’d bought languished in his townhouse. He told himself it was because he was busy and tired from the start of the semester. Harth told him otherwise.

“You’re stalling,” he said. The two of them lounged on the low roof of the lecture hall annex, the rough wall of the main lecture hall against their backs. It was one of their favorite spots to sit and people watch. The sun was setting on the campus below, the buildings making long shadows across the paths and lawns.

Harth tossed an almond into the air and caught it in his mouth. “You know it’s not you Montpierre hates, right? It’s the idea of you,” he said around his chewing.

“Thank you, Harth, that makes everything better.”

Harth shrugged. “It’s the truth,” he said, and then he frowned. “And it’s not right.”

“I could give a dog fart about Montpierre,” Weysh grumbled. “But Maman, Genie, and Sylvie, the way they looked at me—” Weysh sighed. “It was like they didn’t know who I was anymore.” He slammed his thigh with his fist. “Byen! I shouldn’t have let my temper get the better of me.”

“Who wouldn’t?” asked Harth, incredulous. “Quite frankly I don’t think you’re the one who should have to apologize. It was foul, what Montpierre said, and low.”

Now Weysh shrugged. “It’s not the worst.”

Harth shook his head, and the two of them sat in amicable silence for a while, watching people pass by below. Weysh tossed a handful of almonds into his mouth, crunching away. “You’re right, though,” he said with his mouth full. “I need to see them soon—I think I’m starting to lose my mind. I could swear I see Sylvie down there right now.”

Harth sat forward. “Weysh, I think that is Sylvie.”

Weysh sat forward as well, dusting his hands on his pants. “En? What’s she doing here?”

Weysh and Harth shared a worried glance, then jumped off the roof, changing to dragon in midair to glide to the ground below.

“Sylvie!” Weysh called once he changed back. She started and turned around, then ran to him, throwing herself in his arms and enveloping him in the cloud of her scent, friendly and familiar. Weysh umphed as he caught her.

Harth bent over and waved. “Um, hello, Sylvie.”

“Hi, Harth.” Her reply was muffled by Weysh’s chest.

“Sylvie, what is going on?” asked Weysh.