“This has Maman written all over it. Very well.” He took Yenni by the shoulders and gently guided her to stand in front of him. “May I present Mam’selle Yenni Aja-Nifemi ka Yirba.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” said Yenni, bowing her head.

Genevieve took Yenni’s hat and gloves and led them into the dining room.

Sylvie, Montpierre, and Maman stood at the back of the room as if posing for a portrait. Weysh caught Sylvie’s eye, gave her a smirk, and bowed to them. “Mam’selle Yenni Aja-Nifemi ka Yirba of the Moonrise Isles,” he said again, as if announcing the empress herself.

His maman glided forward and slapped him lightly on the shoulder in reprimand. “I know you’re mocking me,” she said as she hugged him, then turned her attention on Yenni, and they greeted each other palm to palm. “Welcome to our home. I am Bernadette Nolan and this is my husband, Montpierre, and my daughter, Sylvie.”

Sylvie curtsied—curtsied—while Montpierre acknowledged Yenni’s nod with one of his own.

“Please call me Yenni Ajani,” she said.

“Oh, Weysh, but she’s lovely!” his maman exclaimed. “Come, come let’s sit!”

Weysh and Yenni sat together on one side of the table, while Sylvie and Maman occupied the other and Montpierre took the head.

“Your hair is beautiful, Yenni Ajani,” said his maman. “Where do you get it done?”

Her hair hung on either side of her face in her signature mini-braids, though they were getting longer now, well past her chin.

“I do it myself.”

“Oh! Truly?”

“Yes, it’s a common skill among women on the Moonrise Isles. My mother was forever telling my sisters and me that a proper lady must know how to braid her hair—unless she prefers to wear it shaved, of course.”

“That’s quite wise. What I wouldn’t have given to be able to do that growing up.” His maman’s own loose curls were currently corralled into an updo.

“I can show you some simple styles, if you’d like,” said Yenni.

Genie arrived with the precourse: slices of peppered mango and pineapple.

“So, Mam’selle Yenni Ajani,” said Montpierre as he fluffed out his napkin, “what are your plans once you complete your year at Prevan?”

Thrice-damned Montpierre, could they not have just a few minutes of polite conversation first? Weysh breathed deeply through his nose and focused on Yenni.

“I’ll return home,” she said simply and took a dainty bite of mango. “Oh, delicious!” she exclaimed.

“Hmph.” Montpierre turned to Weysh. “And do you intend to return with her?”

“Montpierre!” his maman whispered. Sylvie watched Weysh with interest.