Given

Chapter 3:2

Maree was like a second mother and he knew she adored him. Most women did, until they hated him.

"Weys!"

They all peeked under the table. Wrenny had changed and sat with his green hair flopping into his eyes.

"Get out from under there you little monster," said Weysh. He scooped Wrenny up and tickled him, his deep laughter mingling with the child's high squeals.

Harth's father appeared and clasped Weysh's arm, smiling through his green beard. "Weysh! Good man."

"Likewise, Henri, and thank you for the hospitality. Harth gave me the impression I'd be eating from the trash."

Maree slapped her son on the arm. "What nonsense!" She turned to Weysh. "You're welcome any time, dear."

After some small talk Harth's parents left, taking Wrenny with them. Harth dismissed the serving girls and sat across from Weysh, cradling a goblet of fragrant mulled wine.

"Where is Sui?" asked Weysh.

"In our suite, preparing for when classes start in two days."

Weysh took up the gleaming silverware, cut a slice of duck and popped it in his mouth, moaning as the meaty flavor mixed with the spicy tang of the hotberry jelly on his tongue. "This must be what Bian eats! Collette has really outdone herself."

It wasn't until the duck was half gone and he'd started on a fluffy mound of potatoes in thick brown gravy that Harth addressed him.

"What are you planning to do about Carmenna?"

Weysh put down his fork and refused to meet his friend's eye. "Dragons are Given, Harth. She understands that."

Harth grunted, the sound full of skepticism. He was right. As an unmated dragon Weysh had never lacked for female company. There were always women, curious and hopeful, trying to catch his attention. But Carmenna was different. She had meant more to him than a romantic conquest—they hadn't even slept together, for the blessing of Bian! She was...a friend too, and she deserved better.

"Look, just leave that up to me. I'll figure it out," said Weysh, his voice gruff. "What about my Given? What did she say when you caught up with her?"

"Well..."

Weysh sat up. "Yes?"

"You've really done it. She's angrier than a herd of bulls. Sui and I tried to explain to her how the Given bond works for dragons, but she said if you ever touched her again, she'd cut off your nose and shove it up your own..." Harth sputtered and laughed.

"It's not funny, Harth!"

"Well, you deserve it! You should know not to manhandle a woman like that."

"She's not 'a' woman, she's my Given!"

Harth shrugged. "All the more reason to treat her with kindness."

Weysh frowned. Was he unkind? "Listen, if my Given asks me to, I will pluck the scales off my back and give them to her."

Harth held up his hands. "Yes, I know—"

"And my dragonling will have the best father to walk Bian's hallowed soil. He will want for nothing."

"I understand that, but—"

"I would never do to her what...what my sire did to his Given, and to my Maman and others. Never!"

"No one said you would, but—"

"She's too sensitive," Weysh concluded. "Most women are. I just have to show her I'd never hurt her. Once she realizes that, she'll come running with open arms."

Harth shook his head. "Ah, Weysh, I think this Given of yours will be good for you. Bian be praised."

***

The next morning, Weysh took off from his wide balcony just after the sun cleared the horizon. The air was misty with early spring's chill. He winged between soaring pastel townhouses, his wind rustling the flowers in the window boxes, and the first trams of the morning trundled and clanged along the tracks beneath him.

Twenty minutes later, as he closed in on the plinths and columns of Prevan Academy, he breathed deep, sifting through the leafy, earthy spice of nature and the fleshy smell of students for that sharp, spicy scent that was his Given. At last it hit him, the barest hint teasing his nose. He let out an elated screech and dove after it, the wind whistling in his ears.

As the scent grew, so did his excitement. He knew just what to do. He would fly her to one of his favorite spots—a mossy cave sunk into a cliff off Northfall River. And then they would...well, he wasn't sure what. Sit together. Enjoy the glint of the sun off the water. All he knew was that her scent called to him as sure as if she shouted his name.

He spotted her: a tiny dark figure marching toward the training sands with a long, metal spear in her hand. Angling low, Weysh swooped in and grabbed her in his arms. She yelled, the spear slipping from her grasp. Flapping his great wings, Weysh shot off for his secret cave.