“You know I hate that nickname,” she groaned. He’d given it to her due to her strange enthusiasm for riding the trams. He often asked why she was wasting time in school when she was just going to end up as a tram conductor someday.

“Yup,” Weysh agreed and tweaked her nose while Harth laughed in the background. “Besides, you riding dragonback will annoy Montpierre. I’ll fly you home. Do you remember the signals?”

She clapped her hands together and squealed. “Yes!”

“Good.”

“And you’ll talk to Maman? She hasn’t said it, but I can tell she wants to see you.”

Weysh flicked his eyes to Harth, who gave him a shallow nod.

He sighed a soul-deep sigh. “All right, I’ll talk to Maman.”

After a quick stop at his townhouse to grab the presents (I love it! Sylvie had exclaimed at the dragon charm with amethysts for eyes), Weysh was now bearing down on his family’s red-bricked manse with Sylvie perched on his back.

As always, Weysh gave a screeching cry to let everyone know he was there, then he jerked his shoulders to let Sylvie know he was planning to descend.

“Got it! I’m holding on!” she yelled. As Weysh dove in Sylvie whooped in glee. He touched down a little rougher than usual, just enough so the bump would give Sylvie a jolt. “Whoa!” she exclaimed excitedly.

He bent to let her down, and she surrounded him in endless excited chatter. “That was so much fun! I missed flying with you, Weysh—I wish we could do this more often! Maybe I can convince Papa. Byen, the world looks so different from above! We need to—”

“Weysh? Sylvie?”

Their mother stood at the door with Genevieve, frowning with confusion. “What is going on?”

Weysh changed and hastened over to her. “I picked Sylvie up from school, Maman,” he said quickly. “I bought her a present from Dame Dubois. You and Genie as well.”

Weysh reached into his hip bag for his mother’s earrings. They were beautiful cascading diamond drops, the kind of thing she loved. He held his breath as she studied the earrings, turning them this way and that to make them sparkle in the light of the lantern by the door. Her expression was curiously sad.

“Come inside, Weysh,” she said at last, and turned to lead him in.

As Weysh passed Genevieve in the hallway he slipped her an ivory comb studded with pearls. She gasped, her pale cheeks went rosy, and she pulled him into a tight embrace.

“Welcome home, Weysh.”

He threw his other arm around her neck in a one-armed hug.

“Thank you, Genie,” he said by her ear. “I’m sorry if I upset you the other day.”