She dropped her head down on her crossed arms, sending up a plume of bitter annoyance. “By Byen, but you can be dense, Weysh.” She looked up at him bleakly. “It’s hard to make friends, real friends, when your brother is dragonkind.” She dropped her eyes. “And now even you’re leaving me.”

“Sylvie, what are you taking about?”

“I barely see you now, and I’ll never see you again once you move to the Moonrise Isles with your Given.” A cloud of heartbreaking sadness emanated from her like cloying perfume.

He took her small hand in his. “Listen,” he said softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “You promise?” she whispered, and sniffled. Where had she gotten such an idea? Weysh already had everything planned out. He would join the army, rank up, build a manse, and live there peacefully with his Given and dragonling. He would be the father he’d never had, and have the harmonious family he’d always wanted.

He nodded, resolute. “You have my word, Sylvie.”

Weysh breathed deeply and let out a contented grumble. His Given was here.

For two weeks he’d occupied himself with work, ferrying packages and people across the Empire. He’d occupied himself with classes, pushing himself to his physical limits so that he would be too tired to think about his Given at night. And he’d even taken up cartography again, creating his own maps featuring all his favorite interesting spots outside the city. But in two weeks Yenni Ajani had made no effort to see him or contact him.

He had taken everyone’s advice, leaving her to her own devices and trusting in the Watcher. Today he’d flown to the training sands, and was waiting nearby in dragon for the current class to let out. He planned to change and get in some melee practice, as it was important to get sufficient training as a man as well. Dragons were often tempted to rely on their dragon form and neglected training their human muscles. But catching his Given’s spicy-sweet scent from inside the wide open doors was a welcome surprise.

Weysh lay on the grass hill to the right of the training sands, eyes closed as the noonday sun warmed his scales. At last the class let out, her scent getting stronger as he saw her exit. She wore the battle uniform: tight leather pants dyed green, knee-high boots, gloves, and arm bracers. Very suitable for flying. She spotted him and frowned, marching up to him amid curious glances from her classmates.