He cleared his throat. “I came to apologize,” he said, holding up his hands like he was trying to coax a skittish mare. “I shouldn’t—I shouldn’t have . . .” The stink of fear coming off her was distracting and maddening. He threw up his hands. “Byen, woman! Do you really think so little of me? That I could harm so much as your baby toe?”

Confusion crossed her face.

“You’re my Given,” he said firmly. She opened her mouth, no doubt to object, but he rushed on. “I brought you something.” He pulled out the goggles and held them up. She frowned at them as they dangled from his hand.

“What is that?”

He patted his bag. “Riding gear, so we can go for longer flights. These goggles will protect your eyes.”

Her mouth dropped open and she let out an astonished laugh. “Longer flights? Listen to me well, Dragon. If I see so much as your shadow after today I am going right to the authorities.”

Weysh was so stung he took a step back. “En? You would report me? Like a criminal?”

She said nothing, only stared him down, the smell of fear ever present. Never in all his fantasies about meeting his Given could he have come up with this. To think that she would treat him this way, with all he had planned for them. All he meant to give her and do for her. It was base. It was sacrilege. He felt the heat rising in him, anger flushing the skin behind his ears. It was best to leave now, before he said something crude and somehow made things worse.

“Very well,” he said tersely, the only words he trusted himself to say. She clearly needed more time. Once she was better acquainted with Creshen culture, and fully understood the concept of Given, surely she would see reason. His bag still bulging with flight gear, Weysh bowed silently to Yenni, changed, and flew off.

All night Weysh stayed in dragon, sleeping among the trees of the rooftop garden of his townhouse. But the next morning meant classes, so he had no choice but to switch once he flew back to school. And with the switch came the feelings.

His thoughts tormented him during the walk across the quad. Blessed Byen, why did she have to look at him like that, as if she thought he would rip her limb from limb? Cursed Movay, what a mess. He’d never heard of someone being rejected by their own Given.

Telltale wingbeats announced Harth’s arrival. He was the only one who flapped at the air like that, quick and frantic, like he was struggling to stay aloft. Sure enough, when Weysh looked over his shoulder he saw a skinny green dragon gliding toward him. Harth switched while still a few feet in the air and hit the ground at a jog, falling into step beside him.