Weysh’s insides went icy, as if he’d inhaled a frigid breath from the realm of demons at the edge of the world. Oh, Kindly Watcher, not this. He had never been good at hiding his emotions, and by the tight set of his mother’s mouth, he knew his dismay was plain on his face. He could have happily gone his whole life in ignorant bliss, unaware of the sordid details of his mother’s communion with Guste Pain.

But another, morbid part of him wanted to know everything. What had she seen in him? What had he done to her? What was so horrible that she couldn’t quite bring herself to fully love their offspring, her own son?

Him?

“Montpierre was not a particularly rich man when we met,” she began. “But he was ambitious. He got along well with your grandfather, you know. Both of them are self-made men, cut from the same cloth. Montpierre had just started his window-outfitting business with an old school friend as his partner. Through his wheelings and dealings and constant searching for investors, he eventually crossed paths with Guste Pain.

“Guste was charming and enthusiastic about the business, and as with most dragon families, his was quite wealthy. He gave Montpierre a modest initial investment, which helped his business take off. After that the two of them became fast friends, and he was always visiting with us. For a while the business went well, but the death of the emperor and the succession of his son had a negative effect on the Creshen economy, and Montpierre’s contracts dwindled. What’s worse is we were also preparing for our wedding at the time.

“With the economy as it was, no one was willing to invest in a fledgling window company headed by an untested young businessman. Believe me, Montpierre tried. Guste was all we had—your grandpapa’s delivery business was not the thriving enterprise it is today, barely breaking even. An infusion of funds from Guste would allow Montpierre to keep his company going, weather the storm until things improved. And Guste knew this. So he came to me and said he would give Montpierre the money, if in return I gave him myself.”

“No, Maman,” said Weysh, sounding as breathless as if he’d just flown across the ocean.

“I did say no, at first. And then for two moonturns I watched Montpierre’s business fail, watched him become sunken, sallow, and irritable, and watched our plans for a future shrivel like kindling in a fire. Eventually Montpierre was able to suspend his pride long enough to ask Guste for a loan, but Guste refused, of course, and their friendship faded. Then one day Montpierre took me out on a romantic moonlit stroll by the castle moat and gardens, and told me we couldn’t be married.