Praises to all the Mothers and Fathers that you are once again safe. You must bring this dragon with you when your pledged year abroad is complete and you return. We will form a strategy then. Write no more of this. Love from your iyaya, your siblings, your tribe and me, your n’baba. May the Sha guide you safely home.

What? That was it? That was all?

Yenni turned the paper over, even shook it, as if she could shake free more words. How frustratingly vague! What did her father mean by “We will form a strategy”?

Still, it seemed as if her family had accepted Weysh. They wanted her to bring him back with her. That was a good thing, was it not? So why did the letter fill her with such apprehension? Just what would she find on returning home?

Weysh screeched his arrival as he landed on his family’s lawn, but he was surprised when his maman, not Genie, answered the door, her eyes puffy and her smile brittle. She hugged him long and tightly, and he didn’t need his sense of smell to tell that something was very wrong.

“How is Montpierre?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Come, let’s sit,” was all she said. As he followed her to the den, Sylvie hurried down the stairs to join them. She attached herself to Weysh’s side and didn’t let him go until they reached the winged armchairs and sat down.

Maman sighed. “Montpierre is not well. He was too exhausted to rise from bed this morning.”

Weysh took in their haunted expressions and felt nothing but sadness. “I’m sorry,” he said.

She waved at the air as if she could flick away her sorrows like swatting a buzzing fly. “But what about you, sweet? Where’s your princess?”

“Professor Yenni Ajani is teaching a class at the moment,” said Weysh, smiling fondly. Weysh made small talk with them, updating them on his life in a way he never used to, until eventually his maman rose. “It’s time for Montpierre’s next dose of medicine. Excuse me,” she said, and glided from the den.

Sylvie stared after her, eyebrows raised in concern.

“How are you holding up, conductor?” he asked her.

She laughed softly. “You know, it’s funny you should say that. I made some new friends, and a couple of them are tram enthusiasts like me.”

“Truly? That’s wonderful, Sylvie!”

“Yes, I like them a lot,” she said, and her smile warmed his heart. “We’re all part of the same group: Sainte Hosha Girl’s Society of Magical Advancement.”

“Oho! Sounds impressive! What sorts of things do you discuss?”