EM: A Circle story from my heart. Thanks for the continued reviewing everyone. I love you all so much. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: All that is Circle belongs to Tamora Pierce.


Chapter 11

The 11th day of Mead, 1044 K.F.
The Duke's Citadel
The Kitchen

"It's a letter," Sandry said softly.

Daja was seated at a small table with Sandry, eating the cured meat the cook had set out for her, and picking at the bread and honey. Sandry's tea sat untouched in front of her, a biscuit next to it.

"What do you-." Sandry slammed the paper on the table before her, rattling the china and startling the cooks behind them.

Daja gave them a reassuring smile, and then turned to back to Sandry. "I can't believe he sent me a letter!" Her infuriated shout sent a few of the maids scuttling out of the kitchen.

You're scaring off the ladies, Sandry.

"Briar!" Sandry fanned the paper in Daja's direction, ignoring what she had said between their shared bond. "He sent us a damned letter!" Sandry threw her hands in the air and the letter with it, the sheet fluttering to the ground. Daja snatched it up quickly. Her eyes found Sandry's, her brows arched high in question.

"Are you telling me that getting a letter from our brother doesn't bother you?" Daja wasn't sure what she should be more surprised at; Sandry swearing or Sandry this upset at Briar. Daja could tell that either way she answered wouldn't matter. Sandry was in one of her moods now.

"It's a lett-."

"We don't need letters, Daja! He could do it the old-fashioned way!" Sandry looked at her pointedly, fingers wiggling around her head. Daja wanted to laugh because Sandry looked ridiculous but she sighed resignedly, and looked over the letter.

It was concise, not really Briar's way about things even if it was his handwriting. Daja suspected Tris may have had a thing or two in what was said in the letter. Which was why she suspected they were getting the letter in the first place.

"You know why we're getting this, saati." Daja placed the letter on the table and chewed a piece of bread thoughtfully. He was mad, simple as that.

"No, I don't Daja. What could it possibly be this time? Because you know I don't have time for his-his humbuggery!"

Daja chuckled and grabbed Sandry's hand in hers, an image of Rosethorn invading her thoughts.

"He's mad at us, Sandry." Her eyes narrowed, lips parting slightly. Daja spoke quickly.

"Because we left Tris, alone, at the house." Sandry gaped and then her face flushed. She pulled her hand roughly from Daja's, and then pushed away from the table harshly, the chair crashing to the ground.

"She didn't want us there!" Daja ran a hand over her face, breathing deeply. Ever since the letter from Frantsen had arrived Sandry had been on edge, biting off the head of anyone who came near. She had thought Sandry was beyond it, but when the Duke had shut her from his study during one of his council meetings, Sandry had taken that hard. And now everything made her testy.

"Shurri defend me! He can't fault us for something that she wanted. And he certainly doesn't need to send me a letter to talk to me." She snatched the piece of paper out of Daja's hand and began to tear it to pieces, the little sections falling gracefully to the floor at Daja's feet.

Wyan walked through the door then, eyes finding Sandry's hands. She whirled on him, eyes flaring. "What do you want?" She demanded hotly. He took a wary step back, eyes finding Daja's. Sandry noted this and anger shook her shoulders.

"Either you spit it out Wyan or I cocoon you with your trousers!" Wyan's face went placid and he squared his shoulders.

"The Duke wishes to see Daja in his study."

Sandry-.

"Fine," she responded curtly, turning away from both of them.

Saati, please.

"Go, Daja. Don't keep the Duke waiting." Her voice sounded cold and small, and Daja was sure that the moment they left she would cry.

"I'll be right back," and I'll tell you what he wants when I do.

Sandry didn't respond and Daja left, her heart going out to her sister. When the door fell closed behind them, Wyan turned to her.

"What's going on with Lady Sandry?" The concern in his voice brought a smile to Daja's face. She looked at him; found his face pinched with worry.

"She's been taking the Duke's actions to heart lately." Wyan stopped, his eyes narrowing at Daja.

"He's been keeping her at arm's length, Wyan. Pushing her away from everything that's been going on. And you've been keeping your distance as well, which she's very frustrated with because she likes you, very much." Daja watched as his cheeks turned a deep shade of red. "And now the Duke calls me to his study, to discuss Oti knows what, when he hasn't spoken to Sandry about much of anything since the letter from Frantsen came." Her eyes softened. "How do you think she's taking all this?"

Wyan's face took on a faraway look, his hands fisting at his sides.

Yanna bless them, she thought. He truly does like her, he's just too afraid to admit it.

She laughed. Or face the Duke.

"Let's go," she said, taking off for the study again. "The Duke has something important to discuss, yes?"

The Council Room

"You can't possibly be thinking about letting Frantsen move back home." The Duke rubbed his face warily, his shoulders sagging. Daja bit her cheek, knowing she should have held her tongue but also knowing full well that she couldn't. Frantsen, moving back to the castle, for good, would ruin Sandry. Infinitely.

"Sandry will never be the same if you do this to her, you know that." The Duke turned on her then, his eyes blazing furiously.

"And what would you have me do, Daja?" He retorted forcefully. "My son, my son Daja, returns home to shove me into the ground, and bury me, so that he may take over my country as his own," he yelled, arms waving frantically now, the notion reminiscent of Sandry. "How am I to tell my own son that he cannot come home?" The Duke looked lost then. And Daja knew that as much as he wanted to tell Sandry, he hadn't yet figured out what he was going to do about Frantsen. "I wouldn't doubt if he brought a shovel for the hole!"

Daja stood stunned. She couldn't believe that the Duke was telling her these things when it should be Sandry. The door to her right opened, and Yazmín entered.

"Love, everyone can hear you when you shout like that. I'm sure Daja would appreciate a civilized conversation?" She turned to Daja, questioning, yet her face held a look that asked her to avoid the topic that they were discussing.

His son should just stay wherever he was, Daja thought.

The Duke blew out a heavy breath, and sagged in his seat. He beckoned to Yazmín, and she went to him.

"I don't know what to do, dear. Even if I make Sandry my heir, it won't just be Frantsen coming after her," he conceded dejectedly. And Daja blanched. Sandry, the Duke's heir? Was that what he was truly considering?

"Are you…serious? You would make Sandry your successor?" The Duke didn't respond right away. Yazmín reached forward and kissed him tenderly on the forehead, and then on the lips. Daja turned her head slightly, to give them their moment.

"I'll be at the studio if you need me," she whispered. He squeezed her hand as she walked away. Yazmín gave Daja a look as she walked out the door and Daja knew that if the Duke had his way, Sandry would have been his successor a long time ago.

"Shouldn't you be telling Sandry all of this? She knows far more about these things than I do, especially when it comes to politics." The Duke rubbed his face wearily and sighed.

"Daja, my dear, Sandry has come to mean more to me than…" his hesitation made it clear that he didn't want to finish his sentence.

"I know that Sandry would fight for me, would fight for all of Emelan. And I know that she would be the best Duchess that Emelan could ask for." Daja could feel the weight of his deliberation.

"This is why you won't see her, isn't it?" He turned to the window and slumped further down.

"You feel that that the moment you and her talk you'll make your decision then. That you'll make Sandry your successor." He blew out a breath.

"I'm tired, Daja. I'm tired of my sons fighting over who will get to sit in my seat when I am gone. I am tired of feeling guilty for wanting it to be Sandry over the children of my own blood." He closed his eyes and leaned forward, elbows resting against his knees. He rubbed his temples methodically.

"Sir, you shouldn't be ashamed of your feelings. Sandry thinks of you as a father." Daja rounded the desk and placed a hand on his shoulder. "For you to think of her as your child doesn't make you a bad father."

The Duke patted her hand comfortingly, but his face was still etched with worry.

"Things have been out of sorts recently. The pirate attacks have been unusually bold this summer, I've had to raise the tax to cover for the damage throughout the country, and now Frantsen sends this letter?" Daja would not wish this upon the Duke, or Sandry for that matter.

The door burst open then, a weary soldier panting, sweat dripping from his face.

"Sir," he breathed, one hand clutching the sword at his waist, the other gripping the doorframe for support.

The Duke stood, his shoulders set, his face now unreadable.

"Sit son. Catch your breath first." The soldier was shaking his head, but did as he was told. Wyan entered the room behind him. The Duke poured him a glass of water, passing it over. He placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently.

"Tell me what has sent you into my rooms so urgently."

The soldier's face pinched in shame, looked about at the room he was in and took a large swallow of water. Daja saw the Duke's lips tilt up in a smile.

"Don't worry boy. You came here for a reason. Tell me what it is."

He nodded and breathed deep.

"Pirates, my lord." The Duke's smile vanished.

"From the northwest, sir." Daja lost her train of thought.

The Northwest. Winding Circle was to the East. The Circle House was…

"How close?" Daja burst out, before the soldier could say anything further.

"Six miles out to sea." The boy took a breath, stared at Daja intently. It wasn't much time to go by, but they would be able to do something about it.

"Two and half miles out by land." The breath stopped in her. She could only see Briar and Tris in her mind, alone at the house.

Where she had abandoned them.

She turned on her heel, and stormed from the room without even a parting goodbye to the Duke. Her parents were sure to be rolling in the sea at her disgrace.

"Daja," the Duke called.

"I left them alone, sir." She turned to face him at the door. "Weather mage, plant mage, whether they hold medallions or not, they are my family. I have to go."

She saw the Duke nod slightly and ran from the room.


Reviews are a sign of your kindness.

A/N: It took me a while to get this one out. I kind of went AWOL from betaing, reading, and writing for some time. But I'm back again! With a little action to stir things up.

See you next time.