“Oh! Weysh!” She smiled but there was a wariness to it. Still, Weysh strode around the plush rug to the wing chair where she sat and draped an arm around her in a loose hug. She turned and pecked him on the cheek. Weysh gave the man across from her a terse nod, which was returned in kind.

“What a surprise!” said his mother. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

He cleared his throat. “I have good news.”

“Oh?” said his mother, her brown eyes wide. “What is it?”

The goofy grin crept onto his face again. “I’ve met my Given.”

Sylvie squealed from behind him, and Montpierre told her to hush.

His mother eyed him over the rim of her cup. “Truly? Is it that beauty with the long black hair? The one from Espanna you brought to dinner? She’s quite stunning.”

Sylvie laughed and perched on the arm of her father’s chair. “You only say that because she looks a lot like you, Maman.”

His mother cocked her head to the side. “Does she?”

Weysh brushed aside the bubble of guilt at the mention of Carmenna, the only woman he’d ever introduced to his family. “She doesn’t look anything like Maman,” he said indignantly, feeling mildly disturbed. “And no, it’s not her. You know that’s not how mating works for dragons.”

“I know no such thing,” said his maman, a bit sharply. “Besides, I remember you telling me you intended to choose your own Given.”

“Yes, well, things have changed.” None of his family were dragonkind. How to explain to them the compulsion his Given had over him, right from the first meeting? The way her scent made strange tingles of bliss radiate from his skull down his spine?

Montpierre coughed. “Hmph. I suppose this means you’ll stop terrorizing the women of Imperium Centre?”

“Papa,” Sylvie warned, but Weysh only fixed the man with his violet eyes and threw him a lazy smile.

“Yes, Montpierre, I suppose it does.”

“Who is she?” asked Sylvie.

“Yenni Ajaya . . . something. Anyway, she’s a fiery little thing from the Moonrise Isles.”

“Oh! The Sunrise Isles! Like your grandpapa deceased!” cried his mother. “We’ll have to take a trip together—it’s been too long since I’ve visited my brother on the Islands.”

Weysh shook his head. “Not the Sunrise Isles, Maman. The Moonrise Isles.”

“Oh. Oh that is something. Have you ever met anyone from the Moonrise Isles, my love?” She directed the question at Montpierre.

“Never,” he said, and sighed. It turned into a fit of coughs that had Sylvie leaning forward in concern. He waved her off as he brought a kerchief to his mouth, and spoke again once the coughs subsided. “But of course you would match with a woman from the other side of the world. So you’re to be married, I take it?” said Montpierre, rubbing the bridge of his nose.