It was, Tris considered, a supremely strange condition. For days Sandry's mental touch had seemed lighter, silkier… She knew what her closer-then-sister was going through. After years with Sandry, she could see it in the way she spoke, walked, ate, the way she would look up and back again every time he was in the room…

And, over the years, she had certainly read enough about it to recognise the symptoms. Sandry had gone and fallen in love.

And she was happy for her. Of course she was. But it was so like Sandry to go and complicate things.

Jon was the heir to the throne here; he was an only child; there was no possibility of abdication. Sandry belonged back in Emelan, in Summersea, with her uncle and her family. If she stayed here, they wouldn't even by able to mind-speak, the distance was so tremendous.

It was certainly troubling.

But love could certainly do funny things to people. Take Cythera, now. A lovely girl, admittedly, but a hopeless romantic. It wouldn't take a blind ant to see her feelings for Raoul- or his for her, but he was a boy, and didn't have to be subtle. Mila knew Jon wasn't, or Gary. For that matter, the only person around here who seemed to be in love without going completely insane and shouting it to the world was Alanna, and she was decently sensible about these things, thank goodness. Of course, there was always the fact that Alanna didn't seem to realise she was in love yet; there might well be a bit of fuss when she finally did.

Tris leant back in her chair, pushing her glasses up her nose and letting her book fall open to her lap. She was wearing her hair in her customary braids, and was wearing a black-and-gold day gown. She knew that the dress suited her colouring, but on days like these black simply made her sweat. The tiniest of smiles came to her frowning face as a maxim constantly uttered by one of her matronly relatives on summer days; "Men sweat; ladies perspire." Well, Aunt Alicia had sweated like a pig, anyway.

Shifting her position in the rather uncomfortable wicker chair, she stood, shaking herself irritably like a wet cat whose dignity has been ruffled, and decided to take a walk in the gardens, where she could find some breezes. Treading the labyrinth paths of the palace with caution, she managed to reach one of the small rose gardens without too much difficulty. Stepping outside, she let out an audible sigh of relief. Here, where the walls were low for maximum sunlight, the breezes were plentiful; the wind whipped up her skirt and flowing sleeves eagerly, delighting in the lowing black ilk with its shining treasure of golden thread. Lifting up one hand slightly, Tris sent out a call; the breezes, unused to such a power, resisted. After a moment, however, one or two approached, it seemed to Tris, out of sheer curiosity; the rest followed in their wake, unsure creatures tentatively following some brave leader. Folding her fingers in slowly, Tris tugged; the breezes flew instantly to encircle her. Tris smiled with genuine pleasure. These winds had never felt weather-working like hers before; they had no idea how to fight it, or even if they wanted to. She made sure that each one was brought close in, arranging them all comfortably to encircle her, before setting off on a stroll.

The rose garden was beautiful, clearly designed by some old courtier who knew what he was doing. The yew hedges must have been at least a hundred years old, and each section was tucked away in some secret fold that made the joy of discovering it all the more poignant and intense. Briar, Tris reflected, would love this place, if he had not been here already; although, by the flourishing look of the roses, he had. Tris paused to admire a particularly nicely arranged set of red and white roses-love and purity of intent, Tris recalled from Cythera's heartfelt speeches; before rounding the next corner, her breezes still tugging insistently at the tightly-bound braids. Chiding them gently, Tris looked ahead of her, keen to see what colours would appear next, and grinned. Before her was a simple oak bench, and on it was sitting Alanna, leaning back with her face upturned to the sun and her eyes loosely, idly closed.

Well. This was convenient.

Tris, smiling wickedly, sent over one of her breezes to encircle Alanna's head, and watched with amusement as her hair began to stir up and fly around wildly. Gasping, Alanna's hand flew instinctively to her head, and her eyes came open-only to see a chuckling Tris standing in front of her, with every part of her clothing dancing around her.

"Tris! Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"I thought warriors were supposed to be constantly on guard." Commented Tris, eyes dancing. Alanna glared.

"Not in bloody rose gardens, they aren't!" She growled, trying to stroke her flaming hair back into place. She eyed Tris's unruffled braids critically. "Don't they take ages to fix up?"

Tris raised a hand to her head absent-mindedly. "They're worth it, though. I store my magic in them." She explained matter-of-factly.

Alanna stared, then shook her head. "Nothing you say is ever going to surprise me again, Miss Chandler." she said bluntly.

Tris raised an eyebrow. "I highly doubt that."

"Me too, actually. Now give me that breeze back? It's sweltering out here."

Obligingly, Tris sent a few breezes over to Alanna, who laughed with pleasure as the swirled around her. Tris walked over to her and sat down next to her, leaning back on the-surprisingly comfortable-oak bench.

"Now," She said calmly, turning to her Tortallan friend, "tell me about you and Gary."

Alanna glared at her, but Tris was undaunted. The Lioness squirmed ever so slightly in her seat. "There's nothing to tell!" she protested, trying to sound exasperated. "He's just my friend."

"In case you've forgotten, Aly, you're getting married to him."

"Irrelevant!"

"Hardly."

Alanna folded her arms. "Do you ever give up?" She demanded.

"No. Do you?"

"Not known for it. Must be a redhead thing." Smiling at last, Alanna leant back, her position no longer defensive. Tris grinned triumphantly.

"So. Admit it."

"Admit what?"

"You're in love with him!"

Alanna, Tris could've sworn, turned ever so slightly purple. "I am not in love with Gary! Definitely, absolutely, totally, unarguably not in love with him. Not at all."

There was a pause. Then Tris said, "So you're in love with him, then."

"I just said…."

"Come on, Aly."

Alanna collapsed. Closing her eyes, she muttered, "Fine."

Tris folded her arms smugly. "What was that you said?"

"I said I was in love with him! Are you happy now?"

"Oh, yes."

All around them, the tamed breezes danced through the air, bringing the scents of roses to the two girls.

Red roses.

Love… and red roses.

As silently as she could, Tris got up, leaving Alanna to think it all through. She had two other lovestruck girls to attend to before supper.