The characters belong to Tamora Pierce, but this little story belongs to me. Thanks to everyone who reviewed- I never expected this story to get so much attention. I am sorry this chapter took so long, but the characters were giving me a few issues. There will be one more chapter.

I am using canon from The Will of the Empress

Springtime
Sandry, he won't do us all a favor and kiss her if you're staring. You're making him nervous, Daja chided.

He wasn't nervous with anyone else.

That's why we know this is different. I already threatened him about thinking she's the same as everyone else.

Should I threaten someone for you? Sandry asked, regretfully moving away from the dance floor. It was fun to coax a relationship into starting, but once it was there- she wouldn't be seeing as much of Tris or Briar.

Sandry, I-

You can't honestly think that you are one of two.

Leave it alone, Sandry.

Like you left Tris and Briar alone? Sandry demanded.

Daja repressed the urge to roll her eyes. Sandry meant well. That was different, Sandry. I don't have a single person in mind- and you're one to talk! Have you even said good evening to the man you keep looking at?

Daja!

I didn't peek. You projected that loud and clear- it wasn't my fault at all.

I did not project anything, Daja.

Sandry, you know that we can't get visuals without projection. The leatherwork on his belt- well, I suppose that's one place to look. Daja's lips curved into a smile for the first time since Briar had brought Tris out to the floor before the first song even began. If you ask really nicely, I'm sure he'd let you look. If not, you could just happen to notice that the cuff of his shirt needs a fast mend.

His shirt doesn't need to be mended, Daja.

It would if you pulled at a few threads, Daja remarked innocently. Oh, cut the gasp, Sandry- you know you want to, she teased.

That's part of the problem.

Why?

Well, it doesn't seem very fair.

Fair? He's going to have the best stitch-witch I've met fix it up afterwards, probably better than it was before, and he gets to talk to you. How does he lose out?

This will be all your fault, Daja.

Unless it works, Daja countered.

I'll still give you some of the credit. Now?

Wait for him to be distracted, the waiter's coming by with hors d'oeuvres. There's a little flaw in the metal that just might catch his sleeve.

Daja, you're denting the tray?

Already did. Go on, do your magic. I'll fix it afterwards. Now hush and have a good evening.

Daja smiled as she eased back into her seat. Within ten minutes, Sandry and fixed-shirt guy were dancing. He had watched her stitch-magic without more than surprise- Daja would call his expression fascination. The two had talked while nibbling at finger-food that neither was particularly interesting, and Sandry had finally asked if he wanted to dance. Daja saw the entire scene from two hundred feet away.

"Excuse me, but are you Daja Kisubo?"

"Yes." Daja turned, surprised. "I don't believe that we have met."

"We haven't, actually. My name is Genevieve." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I hope you pardon me, should I be wrong- but there were rumors that you were different."

Daja stood cautiously, not sure what the stranger was implying. "Different how? I am an ambient mage."

"Different enough that you might sometime make your way to the upstairs parlor. There is a dance floor, and the hostess sends up caterers with drinks- the music comes up through the floor."

"If I went up there to dance, would you dance with me?" Daja didn't lower her voice to a whisper. There was nothing to be ashamed of.

"Yes."

Daja passed a careless thought to Sandry. Her friend wouldn't mind a moment's interruption now. I'll be upstairs, Sandry.

Briar heard. He wasn't sure if Tris did. She loved waltzes, but a few of the steps still confused her. He recognized that scowl, and knew that it was directed at her own feet. He watched as Daja left with Genevieve. Gen was a sweetheart, and a very fast worker. She had made a few very quiet inquiries, after a few observations of his own. Someone needed to get Daja to lighten up a bit, and she'd been the one telling him that moving forward was the only way out.

The other bleaters are finally going to leave us alone, he told Tris. He could have talked out loud, but her mind was even closer. You're doing great, Tris. Don't worry about that step.

I am not worrying about that step.

Then don't fuss at it.

I want to do it right, Briar.

Okay, okay- here it comes again. Don't step too far with your left, maybe, and keep on your toes just until you have the move down- no one else can tell with that skirt. Here we go- left cross turn. There, see?

You could have done that before, she said without a trace of venom. She was too pleased that she had finally learned the trick.

You're too cute when you're irritated with something that isn't me.

Whenever I say you're cute, you fuss about it.

Guys aren't supposed to be cute, Tris.

Who cares what people are supposed to do?

She had a point, and he recognized that stubborn look. If he didn't get her to lay off, Sandry and Daja would have even more reason to tease him. What do I have to do to win an argument with you, Tris? You keep coming up with arguments like that- I'm not supposed to be cute because you are, okay? Maybe that would work.

We can't share adjectives? Briar, where is this relationship going if we can't share an adjective?

She was smiling, but he thought that he had caught a hint of worry. Where were they going? They were going slowly, for one thing. He wasn't going to rush one moment. We're going right here, he said, and he kissed her.

She completely forgot the music, and they both forgot the steps of the dance. They just stood there, stationary in the middle of the dance floor, and she couldn't think of a better place to be.