Disclaimer: All characters and locations owned by Tamora Pierce. Plot-line and actual written words are owned by myself. The Only Way
His back was turned to her, and a shiver ran down her spine; she knew he was crying, and he didn't want her to see. She'd cried, too, till her throat was raw and her voice raspy, but now she wasn't crying. She was looking at him, his pride, refusing even to acknowledge what they both knew. It was ridiculous of him to turn his back on her – she was inside his mind. Still, she sat and waited for the realization to sink in him, for him to come to terms with it. Like she knew he would, once he came to terms, he faced her. They'd been four, but Daja, and now Sandry, were dead.
They stood and looked at each other. As much as they both loved words, none, spoken or unspoken, could express their grief. The silence weighed heavy before finally she broke it by holding out her arms to him. He accepted her embrace, and things just went on from there… And that was the only way it could happen. For years they'd been united in mind, and it had been utterly impossible, even if the idea of touching had occurred to them. But their sorrow did the impossible and brought together their bodies. Now, with Daja and Sandry both gone from their lives, it seemed only natural.
Tris leapt out of bed and ran across the small room to the wide-open window, half-throwing herself out of it. The room was too close and stuffy, her own flesh warm, flushed and almost feverish. She gasped for fresh, cold air, trying to bring it into her lungs to clear her mind. She just had to stop thinking like that! Nothing in this world could make her wish for Sandry and Daja's deaths, nothing! Certainly not something like that. The door creaked open, and she turned back hastily and, to her mind, guiltily. In the doorway stood a sleepy Daja in a white nightshirt, rubbing her eyes.
"What's wrong, Tris?" she asked softly.
"Nothing," replied Tris stubbornly, shaking her head and holding her cotton nightgown away from her body.
"I can tell you're upset, merchant-girl," remarked Daja, stretching lazily and yawning.
"It's the heat," Tris said with dismissal and turned back to the open window. Daja shook her head, muttering something in Tradertalk about crazy weather witches, and went back to her room across the attic. A sigh of relief erupted from Tris, though she hadn't exactly lied. She just couldn't bear the thought of her closest friends knowing she had thoughts like that about Briar… or anyone, for that matter. And it wasn't like she was in love with him, or anything! She couldn't control it. Being seventeen was just so hard.