Weysh froze. Was her father a merchant? Did she have any brothers or sisters? Byen above, two turns of the moon and he’d learned next to nothing about his Given other than her name. He’d heard all of Carmenna’s deepest wishes and fears, but he knew so little about Yenni Ajani that he could only make guesses and assumptions about her life back home. No wonder he couldn’t tell her he loved her—he hardly knew her. Had she even passed her classes? He was so caught up in his own efforts he’d forgotten to check. Weysh groaned and knocked himself in the forehead with his palm. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He resolved to check the results first thing tomorrow.

However, that turned out to be unnecessary. Harth came over that night with a bottle of Ritter’s cognac—the good stuff. The two of them sat in Weysh’s den, puzzling over a game of kings and castles.

“Not that I mind the silence,” said Harth as he snatched another one of Weysh’s pieces, “but since when am I able to get through a game of kings and castles without a never-ending stream of shite talk from you? I’d say you’re focused on the game, except you’re losing so badly that can’t be it . . . or maybe it can. This is you we’re talking about, after all.”

Weysh just grunted and moved one of his pieces, hoping to steal one of Harth’s the next round.

Harth took the piece Weysh just moved with one of his own, and gave him a sympathetic look. “Byen, Weysh, I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but what’s your plan?”

“En? Plan for what?”

“Your Given!”

Weysh stared at him blankly.

“She didn’t pass her magic classes. By the Kindly Watcher, did you really not know?”

Weysh felt his stomach dive. “She didn’t pass?”

“No, my friend, she didn’t.”

“She’s leaving?” Weysh rasped.

“I don’t see how she can stay. Weysh, I’m sorry, en? I mean, maybe you can convince her to stay with you but . . .” His voice trailed off as Weysh put his head in his hands, gazing down at the whorled wood of the table without seeing it.

“This is my fault,” Weysh said, more to himself than Harth. He got like this with too much cognac—moody and introspective. “I should have been there to help her but I pushed her away. Some Given I am.” Harth said nothing, and Weysh looked up at him. “What, no comment? That’s rare,” he said bitterly.

Harth shrugged. “You’re doing a fine job of summing things up on your own.”

“Byen, I have to help her. She’s smart, Harth, she just needed more time. Oho! Your father could talk to the head of the magical department. Your family has donated a small fortune to this school, en?”