Did you really think she would come? Tris asked through their magic. Give up her own place at court, at the empress’s side, to live on your generosity? Rizu’s proud, Daja. She has every right to be. As Mistress of the Wardrobe she decides what every guardsman and servant in the palace wears. She chooses the imperial wardrobe. What would she have in Summersea compared to all that?
But I love her! cried Daja, accepting the renewed connection between them without a struggle. I thought she loved me!
Tris sighed and patted Daja’s heaving back. At least she didn’t laugh at you when she found out how you felt, she remarked. At least she didn’t turn you into a joke for her friends. And she told you something about yourself you really ought to know: that you’re beautiful, and worth loving. Even for just a summer.
All the boys I went with in Summersea after we came back from Kugisko said I was cold, Daja replied wearily. I didn’t like kissing them. It was nothing special, like all the books say love is. Then, when I liked kissing Rizu…it was such a blessing. I’m not cold. I was just kissing the wrong people. Even living with Lark and Rosethorn, I never thought that maybe I should try kissing girls. None of them drew me. Have you ever…?
Tris shook her head. No interest, she explained. And the boys don’t want to kiss a fat girl like me. They’re also scared of me. That doesn’t help.
They sat in silence for a long time, Tris simply rubbing Daja’s shoulders. Finally Daja pushed herself up and turned over to sit on the bed. “They made a joke of you?” she asked roughly, and blew her nose.
“Twice,” Tris answered softly. “After that, I tried not to let boys know when I liked them. One time the boy set up a meeting in a garden. Then he and his friends dumped honey on me. They told me even a gallon of honey wasn’t enough sweets to satisfy a tub like me.”
“Miserable dung-grubbing pavao,” whispered Daja. “Did you…lose control?”
“I called the rain,” replied Tris. “To get the honey off me. All right. To run them off, too. But I’ve been trying to be good about it. About the weather.”
“And the other boy?” asked Daja, getting up to splash water on her face.
“They made fun of him until he came to hate me,” Tris said with a shrug. “At least both times we left the towns, eventually.” She could feel the heat in her face. If there had been light in here, Daja would have seen her humiliated blush. “I dove into my studies after that and tried not to notice any boys. Most of them just aren’t like Briar, you know. He’ll drive you to commit murder, but the only part of him that’s hidden is the good part. And he isn’t nasty to any female, have you noticed? Not to the little farm children or the old grannies who want to tell him how beautiful they were in their prime.”
“That’s because he knows Rosethorn would pull him out by the roots and throw him on the compost heap if he was,” Daja said. Both girls looked at each other and giggled softly at the image of Briar thrown out with the rotten leaves of cabbage and the heaps of dead weeds.
When they had quieted, Daja suddenly kissed Tris on the cheek. “I had forgotten that Sandry wasn’t my only saati,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
“Don’t go telling people,” Tris fussed. “I have a reputation to protect.” She slid off the bed. “I am sorry about Rizu, Daja.”
Daja sniffled, and blew her nose again. “I think it will probably hurt for a while,” she said. “I felt so free when I was with her.” She shook the wrinkles from her clothes. Obedient as always to Sandry’s wishes, the garments went as smooth as if Daja had never lain on them. “I’ll talk to Zhegorz. I wish he wouldn’t take things so literally, but then, he is mad. Isn’t he?”
“I think he’ll always be somewhat mad, yes,” Tris replied, following her down the gallery. “But he’s somewhat on the mend.”
They were all sitting down to a strained dinner when Zhegorz sat bolt upright. “A man with a blade,” he said, eyes wide. “In the house!”
Briar and the girls scrambled to their feet as a footman darted in from the kitchen, panic in his eyes. “My lady, my lord, he came through the servants’ gate,” he cried. “Forgive me, but the guard just stepped away!” There was a sword at his back, with Jak gripping the hilt. Briar readied his magic, as did his sisters; from the corner of his eye Briar saw Zhegorz grab a silver pitcher for use as a weapon.
“You dare,” cried Sandry. “You—”
Jak sheathed the sword and raised his hands. “I’m sorry, but I had to see you, and it’s not like you’re opening the door to callers,” he said, his eyes on Sandry. “I just wanted you to know I had no part in what Fin did. I’ll have no part in anything else of the kind. I swear it by Vrohain the Judge, may he cut off my hands if I lie.”
They all watched him for a moment. Then the tension in the room eased. Briar sat down and applied himself to his meal once more. If Jak wasn’t a threat, Briar wasn’t about to let his food get cold.
“Why?” Sandry demanded, quivering as if she might yet flee him. “Why do you have such a distaste for it, when so many other men do not?”
Ambros cleared his throat. “You judge us all by the actions of a few, Cousin.”
Sandry made a face. “I’m sorry, Ambros,” she apologized, her voice still raspy. “I’m overwrought, I suppose.”