Menedrion bent forward and, unclenching his teeth, just managed to kiss his mother without growling.
‘Mother...’ he began again, purposefully.
Nefron waved a silencing finger in front of him. ‘Let me look at you,’ she said, reaching up and brushing a maternal hand over his tunic. ‘I haven’t seen you for weeks and weeks.’
‘You said, “Don’t come so often,” the last time we met,’ Menedrion protested immediately in irritable mitigation.
‘There, there,’ Nefron said, irrelevantly, at the same time taking his arm. ‘Sit down, you’re too big for my little room.’
Menedrion cast a brief, ironic glance at the large, ornate receiving room, then followed the prompting of his mother’s hand like a convalescing invalid.
Nefron sat down in front of him and looked at him earnestly.
‘Tell me exactly wh
