In the Duke's Citadel, a sunstreaked brunette thrashed in her dreams. Suddenly she sat bolt upright, gasping for breath.
Sandry blinked as her room came into focus. The glowing crystal her friends had made for her revealed her room, empty except for her nightstand, bed, and the chest at the foot of it. A few stars twinkled outside her window.
Sandry had a nagging sense of almost remembering something important. She closed her eyes and willed her breathing to slow before trying to remember why her dream had scared her so badly, absent-mindedly tugging at a honey brown braid. Nothing. She concentrated harder, struggling to grasp the wisp of thought, and failed.
Her eyes snapped open as she sighed with frustration. Abnormally edgy from too little sleep and the lingering sense of information lost, she yanked an embroidery hoop from her nightstand and started to sew. Still shaking slightly from her disturbing dream, she slipped and caught the edge of a sleeve on the needle without noticing. A thread came loose when she moved to take the next stitch. Sandry glanced down when she'd felt the first tug. As if in slow motion, she watched the thread pull out of the fray. The slightest feeling of recognition hit her, causing a shiver. Panicking, she quickly pulled it away from the needle and ordered it to weave itself back into her sleeve before almost throwing the hoop back on the nightstand.
***
Sandry gazed at her letter to Dedicate Lark at Winding Circle, vaguely watching the words dance in and out of focus. She was almost afraid of going to sleep, in case she had another nightmare like yesterday's. But she was so tired…
Sandry woke in the same condition she had the night before, terrified, without knowing what the dream had been. She still had no idea what it had been about, except for a vague sense of something coming undone.
For comfort, she pulled out a spun circular thread with four lumps in it. Each lump represented her or one of her friends. She fingered it, noticing how the thread felt looser than she remembered it originally being. I have to stop playing with it, she thought. I've weakened the spin. I don't want to know what would happen if I broke it. She gently put it back in the box.
***
Sandry tossed and turned in her dreams for the third night in a row. This time, though…
A rope was being separated into four strands, slowly and painfully.
Unspun. The thought drifted to her like a whisper.
No, stop it, stop it, she thought as a sense of urgency washed over her. The rope had to stay together. If it came apart—
Sandry woke with a start, still breathing hard. It seemed the dreams were getting clearer. What did they mean? Some instinct told her to figure it out, that it was vital.
She sat there past the dawn, trying to puzzle it out while staring out the window into the distance. Suddenly she felt the slightest shift in her magical consciousness. They're coming. All thoughts of the dream flew out of her head as Sandry eagerly sent them a message.
Briar? Daja? Tris? Is that you? Are you coming home?
So much for the surprise, Briar mind-grumbled. Told you she'd notice. Where's my silver astrel?
I thought she wouldn't, replied Daja defensively. We never did mention when we'd come back.
Come on, Trader, you know her. She noticed when my sleeve popped three stitches—just three.
So? I'd see that.
From across the room?
Daja changed tactics. But she has loads on her mind—
This is the girl who nearly tackled me the day I came home from quarantine.
Still, who would have thought?
Um, Daja, Briar?
What? They asked in unison.
Welcome to the Ragat chorus, Sandry teased. Anyway, where's Tris?
Here, was the redhead's absent-minded reply.
Why didn't you say anything?
I'm in the middle of Tide Patterns of the Syth. Why do you three always bother me when I'm reading?
Because you're always reading, the other three replied simultaneously.
Great, said Briar. I leave you girls for two year's and I'm still doing that. I haven't even met up with the Bag yet.
Briar, you've known her for six years. She isn't like that. Aren't you ever going to give up on the nickname?
Fine. It doesn't annoy her as much as it should anyway. Got anything more insulting?
Daja sighed in exasperation.
How long before you return?
I don't know. Briar? Tris?
Don't ask me.
Niko says we should be back at around three. Can I finish my re—gods curse it all. I've never going to finish this book. Niko and Rosethorn are calling. We have to go.
Oh, fun. More riding.
It's not that bad, Briar. I go riding with Uncle nearly every morning.
That's you.
Can you try to enjoy it?
No.
Go.
Aww, come on. Don't you miss little old me enough to talk more?
No.
You always manage to throw it back in my face.
That's because you'll find any excuse you can not to get on a horse. Admit it—that was underhanded.
Briar inserted comical mock-hurt into his voice. How could you think I would—he cut off his sentence with a flurry of curses.
What's wrong?
Rosethorn twisted my ear.
Ohhh. That explains it.
Sandry felt Rosethorn lay a hand on Briar's arm, connecting with the mind-link. Sandry, came the dedicate's sharp mind voice. Mind letting the boy go? I'd let you talk to him as we ride, but then he'd lose his concentration and fall off the horse even more.
Oh, no, Rosethorn, of course I don't mind. Please, feel free to take him, said Sandry sweetly.
Hear that, boy? Just lost your excuse. No more delays. Come, now.
Sandry felt Rosethorn dragging Briar just before she ended the connection. Smiling, she got up and began to dress.
***
Sandry appeared downstairs in the plainest gown she could find in her wardrobe, a blue overgown on top of a dove gray undergown with tight cuffs and full sleeves. She found him in a study.
"Uncle!"
He looked up from his papers. "Yes, Sandrilene?"
"I heard from them, all three of them!" Sandry could hardly contain her glee.
He didn't need to ask who "they" were. "It's been…three months since you last heard from them?" he asked, then suddenly frowned slightly. "I don't remember any messengers."
"Mind-link, Uncle," she reminded him.
The Duke smiled ruefully. "Of course. How silly of me. What is the news?"
"They're coming back," Sandry answered, blue eyes shining.
"When?"
"This afternoon."
Duke Vedris summoned a maid. "Pack Lady Sandrilene's bags for a visit to Discipline—two to three weeks." She hurried off to obey.
"No," Sandry protested. "You won't get rid of me that easily. I came here to take care of you. If you're not watched, you'll fall into all your bad habits again. I'll just visit for the afternoon and come back."
"My dear, I know how much you miss your friends. I simply will not allow you to stay here and tend to me while your friends long for your presence." The Duke's eyes were kind, and now developed a twinkle. "Besides, how could I relinquish a chance to be free of my nursemaid, if only for a few weeks?" The sparkle in his eyes threatened to spread a smile to his mouth, which he battled valiantly to keep stern.
"Uncle, " Sandry said with raised eyebrows, as a little of the frustration she was feeling leaked into her voice.
The Duke lost the battle with his face, letting a small smile turn up the corners of his mouth. "If need be, as Duke of Emelan, I'll order you to go."
Sandry closed her eyes, hung her head, shook it, then came back up before opening them with an exasperated sigh. Normally, she would win this battle, but she did want to see her friends again, and it showed. "All right, I surrender. I'll go." She said, resigned.
Duke Vedris chuckled softly "if it helps, I'll be on my best behavior."
"You'd better be," Sandry threatened. "I'm sending Yazmin to check on you every day."
Waaaaahhhh! I've been planning this story since September, yes, September, and I went on fanfic some time ago and saw someone's summary with almost the exact same plot! This was supposed to be my own baby, my one original idea! *sobs* Why? Oh, well, I didn't read it, and never will, so if anything else resembles it, I can't help it and it's not my fault.
Okay, so as I said, it seems oh-so-typical at first, but becomes more interesting later. In a way, it still will be typical, but—well, you'll see. Chapter 1 is really a prologue. I've also changed some things from the CoM and TCO series to make this story work, which will be explained in chapter two. Also, I always thought a few things about how tight their mind-link was didn't work in a practical sense, so I'll tell you all now that they can talk to each other, but that's it, except for kinda sensing where everybody is. And I'm warning you now: this will be updated very slowly, but it doesn't depend on an exact number. Plus I won't have individual comments to each reviewer before the beginning of each chapter. People yelled at me for that last time.
For those who don't like Sandry, tough luck. Don't read another chapter. There are multiple reasons why she has to be the main character. The very plot depends on it—trust me when I say it all ties in.
Big thanks to Miss Chips, who helped me with some of the finer parts of the story I couldn't decide on. Couldn't have done it without you. Indirect thanks to Arsahi and Cami. If they hadn't kept on updating when so many others stopped, I wouldn't have started writing this a few weeks ago. The more good writing I see, the more I'm inspired to write.
Okay, I'll stop with the long A/N. Review! The more I get, the more likely I am to update sooner.
