And here his scent changed—vinegar and algae. “We lost our standing, and we lost our father, the man we looked up to more than anyone. My brother is young, he decided to stay in Espanna. He thinks with time we can bounce back.”

He stopped in front of Weysh.

“But I know better. Even after I graduate from Prevan I’ll never have the life I could have. The Church of the Sacred Vigil has shunned us entirely. Even if I meet my Given, her name will simply be dragged through the mud with mine.”

Weysh shook his head. “That’s not true, Noriago. You owe it to yourself to fight. If you give up, they win.” It was a mantra Weysh had repeated to himself hundreds, thousands of times.

Noriago laughed, and it was not a pleasant sound. “I was supposed to be head of the whole Espannian chapter of the Church of the Sacred Vigil one day, practically as powerful as the king of Espanna himself. What’s left for me now—delivering packages, like you?”

“There’s no shame in making an honest living,” Weysh said stiffly.

“Either way, it doesn’t matter anymore. You showed me the truth of it, the future in store for me. What I wanted to tell you is this: Source-drawn wind blow forth with force!”

Wind whipped at Weysh, and a cloud of something red burst in front of him. Instantly his face was on fire.

“We are not the same!” Noriago shouted, even as Weysh coughed and sneezed, and tears streamed from his closed eyes. It seemed like grains of sand were stuck under his eyelids, and his nose and lips burned, inflamed.

“I have always walked the righteous path, while you have strayed, debauched, put pleasure before service,” Noriago prattled. Weysh lashed out, trying to hit him, and met empty air. “And yet I am rewarded with ruin, while you are given a woman you could never hope to deserve! The only thing that brings me even the slightest solace now is watching sinners like you suffer.”

Weysh crouched, still sneezing, blinded not only by his tears. He also couldn’t smell. “Poison, you coward?” he yelled between burning sneezes.

“Not quite.” Noriago’s voice came from the left, and Weysh jerked to face it. “But this is the next best thing. Good luck smelling anything ever again, including your ill-gotten Given.”

“Thrice-damned lunatic!” Weysh shouted, lashing out again, longing to dig his fingers into Noriago’s scrawny neck. “They’ll lock you away for this!”

“They didn’t the first time. And anyway, I have nothing left to lose.”

“I’LL KILL YOU!” Weysh roared.

Noriago laughed, and a moment later Weysh heard wingbeats on the air. No way in hell was he about to let that festering ass boil escape! Weysh changed to dragon, and instantly regretted it. His sensitive dragon nose amplified the pain unbearably. He screeched and changed back to a man.