Weysh had to physically flex, as if taking a blow. He’d always suspected Montpierre despised him, but to have the man say it to his face, in front of Maman? That hurt. It was the type of strike that crashed through every layer of defense to his core, to the small boy who used to pray every night for a way to make Montpierre like him.

“Montpierre, how can you say that? Weysh is our son!” She’d shouted the last two words, and when, shocked, Weysh looked at his maman, he saw that her cheeks were red and tears made tracks in the powder on her face.

“I’m sorry, Bernadette, but I do. And if you would be honest with yourself, you might find that you do as well.”

At that, she clutched Weysh by the arm. “No!” she spat. “Never!”

Weysh hugged her and smiled against the top of her head. She was literally standing with him in opposition to Montpierre. “Thank you, Maman.”

Montpierre watched the two of them for a moment, then nodded wearily. “Fair enough. Women are vastly superior to men when it comes to this sort of thing, mothers especially.” He looked again at Weysh. “I may hate you, but that is due to my flaws, not yours. You have—” He fell into such a fit of hacking coughs that Maman rushed to his side. Weysh cringed in discomfort. When at last the fit passed, Montpierre lowered the bloodied handkerchief from his mouth and continued. “You are a permanent reminder of how dismally I failed the woman I love.”

“Oh, Montpierre,” she whispered, cupping her husband’s cheek.

“And yet,” continued Montpierre, “I don’t believe you to be a beast. The creature that sired you is a special kind of evil, and despite what I said in anger, I’ve never seen that in you. I apologize.”

The words I apologize sounded so strange coming from Montpierre’s mouth it took Weysh’s ears a few seconds to register them. And the amount of vindication Montpierre’s apology brought Weysh was equal parts soothing and irritating. He’d hoped by now that his stepfather’s opinion wouldn’t matter as much, and one quick “I’m sorry” in no way made up for the years of torment he’d suffered at Montpierre’s hand, so why did receiving an apology from him have to feel so thrice-damned good?

Of course, Weysh kept his whirling thoughts and emotions from his face. He simply nodded. “Thank you, Montpierre. I accept your apology.”

Quite suddenly Weysh felt drained. More than anything he wanted to collect Yenni from her classes, fly her home, and fall asleep with her in his arms.

“I need to be going,” he said. He bowed to Montpierre and kissed his maman on the cheek.

“When will you come by again?” she asked.

Weysh smiled. “Soon,” he said. “I promise.”