Briar reached out in the darkness and felt the thick, wavy hair of tonight's companion spread out over his pillow. He did not remember this woman's name, nor did he remember the names of any of the others. It did not really matter anyway, for none of them were anything except sub-par substitutes for what he could never have. They all were judged on what they were not, though none of them knew that. Of all the women who had ever seen the inside of his room, there was only one whom he really wanted to lay beside him. Unfortunately, she was the only one – not counting the two foster sisters who he really thought of as blood relations – who had not stretched herself out on his bed and emitted noises which made him blush.
Every time he woke up to see blonde, black, or brunette hair on his pillow, Briar had to recognize that he had been lying to himself the night before. Each time he ran his hands over the smooth skin of another stranger, Briar closed his eyes and imagined it was someone else's skin, that it was a different person in his bed. He knew that this destructive way of trying to forget her would not work, that someday soon it would all end in disaster. But when the choice was between laying alone in bed tormented by phantom hands, drowning in images of scarlet curls, and moving as one with another person who – just for a moment – he could believe was the one he wanted with him, the decision was a no-brainer.
In the mornings he would kindly tell last night's substitute to be gone before the sun rose, otherwise he would have to introduce her to everyone, which was the absolute last thing he wanted. In fact, he would prefer to be stuck in that cave with a horrendous earthquake raging around him than introduce any of the women to his foster sisters, especially Tris. There had been one time early on when he hadn't been quick enough in getting the woman to leave, and therefore when they went down in an attempt to sneak her out without catching anyone's attention, he had been met with three very different expressions. Sandry had been disapproving, though he could tell that she was mildly amused. Daja, on the other hand, was having a very difficult time not surrendering to hysterics right then and there. But it was Tris's expression which had cut him to the bone: she had been glaring so ferociously at him that Briar thought he would instantaneously combust, and miniature lightnings were dancing through her hair. But somewhere far behind the cold fury Briar thought he saw something different, something very close to pain or betrayal. However, Briar dismissed that as wishful thinking, for if Tris was hurt by the visual evidence of his nighttime activities that would mean that she actually felt something other than sisterly affection for him. Which was ludicrous.
This morning Briar managed to get his companion out of the house before anyone was even close to waking up, which meant that he got the luxury of going back to bed and trying to fall asleep with images of snapping gray eyes and prickly red hair haunting his thoughts. Briar didn't know when it was that he had stopped thinking of Tris as a sister and started thinking of her as a woman on the same footing as those he took to bed each night. Perhaps it was when he saw how she treated Glaki; or maybe it was when he realized that out of all of them, Tris was the only one who had actually been hurt by those related to her. It could be any combination of things, but either way it hit him like a ton of bricks the first time a man showed any kind of romantic interest in her.
As a child and young teenager, Tris had always carried a bit of extra weight, but that changed when she had a late growth spurt at age seventeen. She would never be willowy or as graceful as Sandry was, but Tris had definitely left her chubby days behind her. After their catastrophic trip to Namorn, Tris had decided that she actually enjoyed dressing nicely every so often, and therefore she, Sandry, and Daja had completely revamped her wardrobe. Suffice to say, Tris no longer lacked for dance partners at the balls hosted by Duke Vedris.
And Briar hated it. All those courtiers were so materialistic. Why should she like them now when they hadn't noticed her when she wasn't dressed in silks and didn't appear to be a court lady? But he never voiced those selfish thoughts, for he knew that beneath her uncaring exterior, Tris enjoyed the attention from the males. What he did not understand was why she had not ever actually gotten involved with any of them. Even he would admit – grudgingly – that some of them were decent enough fellows. But Tris just didn't appear to be interested, and that bothered Briar. He knew she was not like Daja: Tris was interested in men, she just didn't seem to like any of the ones she had met so far. Again, Briar did not bring this up with any of his foster sisters. Daja would just shrug and look at him oddly, Sandry would read too much – or perhaps just enough – into the observation, and Tris would most likely shock him lightly with lightning and tell him to get his neb out of her business. So he stayed silent, and he tried to tell himself that he didn't care that he was running out of time.