Given

by Nandi Taylor

  Sylvie stared after her, eyebrows raised in concern.

  “How are you holding up, conductor?” he asked her.

  She laughed softly. “You know, it’s funny you should say that. I made some new friends, and a couple of them are tram enthusiasts like me.”

  “Truly? That’s wonderful, Sylvie!”

  “Yes, I like them a lot,” she said, and her smile warmed his heart. “We’re all part of the same group: Sainte Hosha Girl’s Society of Magical Advancement.”

  “Oho! Sounds impressive! What sorts of things do you discuss?”

  “All kinds of interesting things! We read journals on experimental incantations, theoretical applications of existing magical spells—it’s fascinating, Weysh!” As Sylvie went into detail about her new friends, some of the color came back to her cheeks and her eyes brightened. “Weysh, I’ve been thinking about something. If I tell you, will you promise not to mock me?”

  “Of course, Sylvie. What is it?”

  “I want to be able to take care of Maman too. I think when I’m done second school I want to go to Grande Magus Academy. I want to become a magical engineer and work on the trams, perhaps even develop a new type of tram or maybe even a flying machine!”

  Weysh blinked. She held her chin up, watching him defiantly. Weysh had always thought of Sylvie as the little sister he had to support and protect, but she was growing up before his eyes. He’d told Yenni she would be much more than simply someone’s wife, and it dawned on him the same was true of Sylvie as well.

  “A flying machine? So you’re trying to put me out of business, en?”

  “Ah! Well, I didn’t think of that—”

  Weysh laughed. In truth he’d been itching to get out of the ferrying business of late, especially after today’s run. He’d flown a stuffy young merchant couple to their villa on Sainte Ventas. They were the type of passengers Weysh liked the least but were unfortunately most common: not quite high enough on the social scale to have dragon relatives but flush with new money and something to prove, so they insisted on riding dragonback. They were slow to heed his signals, complained about the wind, and took forever to dismount when they finally landed hours later. Weysh didn’t trust himself to change from dragon to man and bid them farewell. Thank the Kindly Watcher they’d paid in advance through credit at the bank. He had only to deposit them at their gaudy summer house, sketch them a shallow bow, and take off.

  “You know what? If it makes you happy, I think that’s a fantastic idea, conductor.”

  “Yes and it makes me feel better, the idea that I can take care of myself and Maman. I’m still scared for Papa but knowing I’ll have some sort of purpose when he’s gone, makes things . . . not better, but less terrifying. And you’ll be free to live with your Given.”

  Weysh reached across the coffee table to take her hand. “Lovely, no matter what happens, and no matter where I live, you can always count on my support.”

  This was what Montpierre didn’t understand. Weysh could never just abandon his family, and he couldn’t on principle let the man go to his grave thinking so ill of him. Weysh stood.

  “Where are you going?” asked Sylvie.

  The look he gave her was resolute and sober. “To visit with Montpierre.”

  Weysh had to hold back a grimace upon entering his parents’ bedroom. Montpierre was sitting up in bed, supported by a pillow. His face was pale, marked by blue-black shadows under his eyes, and the white duvet covering him was speckled with flecks of blood. On the left-side night table a stick of incense sent wispy trails of smoke into the air, and Weysh knew that if he could smell, his nostrils would be clogged with the herbish bite of cam-cam weed.

  Montpierre’s eyes went wide when he spotted Weysh, then narrowed.

  “Do you not knock before entering a room?” Montpierre rasped. “I was under the impression that your Given was engendering within you some much-needed civility, but apparently I was wrong.”

  Weysh met Montpierre’s eyes boldly, refusing to be cowed, and for the first time in his life he saw something in the man’s face he’d never seen before. Perhaps it had always been there, and it was Weysh’s own brush with tragedy—his fears of a future with no sense of smell—that finally allowed him to see the stark reality. Behind that rage-filled glare was raw, agonizing terror.

  Weysh felt slim fingers close around his wrist. “Now is not the time, my heart,” said his maman, trying to tug him away. But Weysh stood firm, his eyes never leaving Montpierre’s.

  “Why are you just standing there, staring like a lackwit?” Montpierre barked, and though such disrespect normally caused Weysh’s blood to rise, today it provoked only pity, because Weysh knew instinctively that the terror eating Montpierre alive was not directed at him. It was far too sinister for that. It was the terror of a man about to lose everything he’d ever worked to build, and everyone he’d ever deigned to love.

  “Weysh!” his mother said firmly, tugging him again. But he put a hand over hers and turned to her.

  “It’s all right, Maman,” he said softly. “I’m not here to cause trouble.” He focused once more on his stepfather. “Montpierre, I only wanted to say this: whatever may happen, Maman and Sylvie can always count on me for protection and support. I would never abandon my family. So, on that front, at least, you have nothing to fear.”

  That gave Montpierre pause. The tension fled him, leaving him sagging against his pillow. “You had better not,” he grunted.

  Weysh crossed his arms. “Maman told me everything,” he said to Montpierre. “I know now why you hate me.”

  “Montpierre doesn’t hate you, lovely—”

  “Yes, I do.”

  Weysh had to physically flex, as if taking a blow. He’d always suspected Montpierre despised him, but to have the man say it to his face, in front of Maman? That hurt. It was the type of strike that crashed through every layer of defense to his core, to the small boy who used to pray every night for a way to make Montpierre like him.

  “Montpierre, how can you say that? Weysh is our son!” She’d shouted the last two words, and when, shocked, Weysh looked at his maman, he saw that her cheeks were red and tears made tracks in the powder on her face.

  “I’m sorry, Bernadette, but I do. And if you would be honest with yourself, you might find that you do as well.”

  At that, she clutched Weysh by the arm. “No!” she spat. “Never!”

  Weysh hugged her and smiled against the top of her head. She was literally standing with him in opposition to Montpierre. “Thank you, Maman.”

  Montpierre watched the two of them for a moment, then nodded wearily. “Fair enough. Women are vastly superior to men when it comes to this sort of thing, mothers especially.” He looked again at Weysh. “I may hate you, but that is due to my flaws, not yours. You have—” He fell into such a fit of hacking coughs that Maman rushed to his side. Weysh cringed in discomfort. When at last the fit passed, Montpierre lowered the bloodied handkerchief from his mouth and continued. “You are a permanent reminder of how dismally I failed the woman I love.”

  “Oh, Montpierre,” she whispered, cupping her husband’s cheek.

  “And yet,” continued Montpierre, “I don’t believe you to be a beast. The creature that sired you is a special kind of evil, and despite what I said in anger, I’ve never seen that in you. I apologize.”

  The words I apologize sounded so strange coming from Montpierre’s mouth it took Weysh’s ears a few seconds to register them. And the amount of vindication Montpierre’s apology brought Weysh was equal parts soothing and irritating. He’d hoped by now that his stepfather’s opinion wouldn’t matter as much, and one quick “I’m sorry” in no way made up for the years of torment he’d suffered at Montpierre’s hand, so why did receiving an apology from him have to feel so thrice-damned good?

  Of course, Weysh kept his whirling thoughts and emotions
from his face. He simply nodded. “Thank you, Montpierre. I accept your apology.”

  Quite suddenly Weysh felt drained. More than anything he wanted to collect Yenni from her classes, fly her home, and fall asleep with her in his arms.

  “I need to be going,” he said. He bowed to Montpierre and kissed his maman on the cheek.

  “When will you come by again?” she asked.

  Weysh smiled. “Soon,” he said. “I promise.”

  At last the sun was setting, and Yenni was home. A new type of home, curled up with Weysh on the rooftop, watching the sun paint Imperium Centre gold and pink. Who knew home could also be a feeling, rather than a place?

  “I received a reply from my parents,” Yenni told him.

  Weysh perked up. “Oh? And?”

  “They have told me to bring you home, to the Yirba islands.”

  “En? But that’s wonderful!”

  Yenni bit her bottom lip.

  “That’s not wonderful?”

  “I’d expected more resistance. I’m happy they are being so accommodating, but I’m nervous as to why.”

  “The threat,” Weysh said darkly.

  “Yes.”

  He sighed. “I hope that I can be of use as I am.”

  Not for the first time, it saddened Yenni to hear him talk like this. Before his injury Weysh had always been so sure of himself, too sure of himself at times. But these days he often had episodes of melancholy and self-doubt. He’d never completely bounced back after he’d lost his sense of smell, but she hoped that with time he would.

  “I couldn’t even track you when Noriago snatched you away.”

  “And yet you saved us, and used your runes to do it. Whatever you may think, I’m proud to call you Given, Weh-sheh. I love you.”

  He rested his forehead to hers. “And I you. So what’s the plan?”

  “Well, tomorrow I’m meeting Deedee’s sweetheart Nanette for the first time.”

  “Nanette—but that’s a woman’s name.”

  “Yes.”

  “I see. Well, I quite like Diedre. We should all go four go out together sometime. But I meant the plan for our future?”

  “I think once final exams are done, and we’ve graduated the year, and you’ve graduated your schooling, and you’ve taken your post, and my Orire N’jem is complete, we make for the Moonrise Isles, so you can meet the rest of my family.”

  “The rest of your family, my heart?”

  “Yes,” Yenni whispered. For in her time at the academy, Weysh, as well as Diedre, Harth, and Zui, had become her family, her home away from home. They had been with her through the most trying year of her life. And whatever challenges awaited her in the future, whatever the Gunzu might throw at them, she’d have family to help. Her iyaya. Her n’baba. Jayeh and Ifeh and Dayo and Jumi.

  And Weysh.

  Though she stood at the chasm of something great and unknown, she knew she wasn’t standing there alone.

  The End

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to my family: my parents, immigrants from whom I derive my adventurous spirit, and who worked so hard to give me the best shot they could at success. To my sisters, Nik and Lee, and my cousin, Thayne, who indulged my earliest writing attempts with wonderful enthusiasm.

  To my writer’s group and beta readers: Victoria, Katie, Aya, and Justin. Your feedback and insights were invaluable, and this book would not be what it is without you.

  To the Wattpad editorial team: thanks for the Wattys! You made me think I might just be good at this writing business. To my editor, Jen, who was right there with me in the trenches gunning for the deadline. To my agent, Marisa, who makes navigating the world of publishing much less intimidating.

  To my Wattpad readers: your votes and heartfelt comments brightened dark days and kept me going.

  And finally to that intangible, god-given something inside me that must be expressed, and won’t let me quit.

  About the Author

  Nandi Taylor is a Canadian writer of Caribbean descent based in Toronto. She’s a two-time Watty award winner, and her Wattpad story Given has garnered over one million reads and earned a 2018 Watty award for the Worldbuilders. Nandi grew up devouring sci-fi and fantasy novels, and from a young age wrote books of her own. Her books are an expression of what she always wanted more of growing up—diverse protagonists in speculative settings. Common themes she writes about are growth, courage, and finding one’s place in the world. Given will be published by Wattpad Books in January 2020.

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2020 Amanda Taylor. All rights reserved.

  Published in Canada by Wattpad Books, a division of Wattpad Corp.

  36 Wellington Street E., Toronto, ON M5E 1C7

  www.wattpad.com

  No portion of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the express written permission of the copyright holders.

  First Wattpad Books edition: January 2020

  ISBN 978-1-98936-504-5 (Hardcover original)

  ISBN 978-1-98936-505-2 (eBook edition)

  Names, characters, places, and incidents featured in this publication are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events, institutions, or locales, without satiric intent, is coincidental.

  Wattpad, Wattpad Books, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Wattpad Corp.

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication information is available upon request.

  Cover design by Suzy Li

  Illustration by Te’Shawn Dwyer

  Map illustration by Jason Flores-Holz

  About the Publisher

  About Wattpad Books

  Wattpad Books, a division of Wattpad, is the leader in data-backed publishing. Leveraging billions of daily insights from Wattpad’s global community of 80 million book lovers, Wattpad Books combines the best of art and science, using human expertise and story DNA machine learning technology to identify the trends, voices, and stories that are the future of publishing. By elevating the stories of diverse communities around the world, Wattpad Books is creating new space for writers and fans of every genre.

  Wattpad Books

  A division of Wattpad Corp.

  36 Wellington St. E.

  Toronto, ON M5E1C7

  www.wattpad.com