“Even so, if you’re trying to win her over, that’s where I would start,” Zui said dryly. “I believe her name is Yenni Ajani, though I admit I’ve forgotten the rest. But I could ask her.”

Weysh sighed. “Would you talk to her for me, Zui? Explain the concept of Given? It might help to hear it from another woman.”

Zui crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him. “What exactly would you have me say?”

Weysh shrugged. “Tell her the truth, that as Given we have a responsibility to each other and to the Kindly Watcher. She has to give birth to my dragonling.”

Zui exchanged a slow glance with Harth, who put a heavy hand on Weysh’s shoulder.

“Let’s do the math on this one, my friend. What happened the first time you told her you were to be married?”

How could he forget? “She attacked me with a spear,” Weysh said, scowling.

“And your second encounter?”

“She somehow threw me out of a cave.”

“Your third?”

Weysh simply glared at Harth. “Very well, I see your point,” he snapped. “Clearly I haven’t made the best impression. But I’m working to fix that. I mean, look at how happy the two of you are. How could she not want the same?”

“Weysh,” said Zui patiently. “Would you like to know my advice, as a woman? Right from the source of the wellspring?”

“En? Oh yes, that would probably be helpful. What do you think, Zui?” he asked hopefully. “How do I make her see reason?”

“You don’t,” Zui said with finality. “She’ll decide on her own if she wants to be with you. Not everything can be fixed and solved, especially when it comes to love. And Given or not, if you continue to push her, you may just push her forever out of reach.”

Weysh furrowed his brow, confused. “So I should simply leave her be?”

“If that’s what she wants.”

“But why? How would that endear me to her?”

Zui threw a quick, fond glance at Harth. “Because respecting a woman’s wishes is one of the most seductive things a man can do.”

Weysh shook his head. It seemed incredibly counterproductive, but everything else he’d tried so far had been nothing short of disaster. “All right, Zui,” he said, resigned. “I’ll try it your way. For the time being at least.”

7

Yenni frowned, bit her lip, and stared again at the interesting writing instrument they’d given her: a slim stick of something like charcoal wrapped in wood, so different from the slim reed brushes and black scribe ink she used at home.