A/N: Here's number 3! I had a bit of fun with this one. The bold is other ppl (namely Tris) talking in Briar's head. The italics are Briar's thoughts. Well, most of them are. Anyway- enjoy.

Disclaimer: I wouldn't dream about thinking about saying that I owned Tamora Pierce's work! 0;) ---does that look like an angel to you?

Breakfast was never considered a big deal at the duke's citadel. Briar would usually head to the kitchen half awake, cracking open one eye only to risk serious injury. He had never been a morning person. Grabbing a piece of fruit and a water flask, Briar would head out to the gardens for the remainder of the morning. He rarely saw the girls till lunch, when they would gather for a meal.

Great he thought fiercely, a whole peaceful morning before I have to deal with Miss Noble. Briar grimaced, remembering their argument the night before. He had said some things he probably would regret. But she deserved it! Prancing around those men like a tavern wench. It was disgusting.

I would hardly call it prancing.

Tris! Get out of my head! Briar roared.

You should talk to her. Apologize. she suggested, ignoring him like always.

I need to apologize--!

I'm glad you agree. I'm giving you till lunch. I will not sit through another uncivilized meal. Remember last time? Briar shuddered.

How was I supposed to know she could throw like a shepherd boy?

Yes, well you got a nice shiner from that orange didn't you?

Briar muttered under his breath as he dropped to his knees and began weeding.

Dang-cursed nobles. All fired up at a few words in passing.

Briar, you called her a slut.

Well she was all over that man from the merchant guild!

I don't want to hear it. Apologize. And with that Briar could feel her withdraw from his mind and seal herself off.

"Go stuff yourself," he muttered, causing nearby gardeners to look at him strangely. He hesitantly prodded his tie to Sandry. Nothing. Gray and dull it seemed as if it wasn't even there. Briar shivered at the thought. He did maybe go a bit too far, he could admit to that. Yanking out a weed and strengthening the ivy it had been draining, Briar decided he'd make it up to her somehow.

Time passed quickly, and before Briar realized it the sun was burning directly over head. Sitting back on his heels, the plant mage wiped sweat from his forehead. Lunchtime.

Heading to his room, he washed and changed, then went to the small dining hall in the east wing. Cautiously, Briar poked his head inside the door, ready for flying projectiles. None came, but Duke Vedris, Daja, and Tris were seated and quietly conversing over salads. Sandry was nowhere to be seen. Briar entered all the way and plopped down on his chair. The duke nodded at him, then frowned at Sandry's empty chair.

"It's unlike Sandrilene to be late," he commented. "Do any of you know where she is?" Briar squirmed, as though under direct accusation, and Tris glared at him.

"I haven't seen her all morning," Daja mused, Tris nodded in agreement. "Maybe she's still her room?" Daja shrugged at the puzzled look Duke Vedris sent her.

"Maybe you should get her, Briar. You haven't started eating yet," Tris suggested – very strongly. Briar grinned weakly and stood.

"Good idea, Tris. Er… I'll be right back." And with that Briar found himself in front of Sandry's door. How did he get himself into these things?

Sighing, he knocked.

"Sandry? Lunch is ready." No answer. He knocked a little harder. "Look, about last night. I'm sorry for what I said, it was out of line." Still nothing. Starting to get frustrated, Briar turned the door knob. It was unlocked. "I'm coming in…."

The door swung open, revealing…. an empty room. Briar felt slightly sheepish for talking to himself. He was about to leave when something caught his eye.

A light, dimmed in the sun rays streaming through the window, sat on Sandry's bed. Briar hesitated, then walked closer.

It was Sandry's night light! She would never go anywhere without it. For her to not have it, it must mean… Briar's imagination kicked into overdrive, all kinds of horrible possibilities flooded his mind.

Just as he turned to dash from the room, he saw an envelope on the desk. Picking it up, he saw it had the word 'Uncle' in Sandry's neat handwriting. Without thinking, Briar tore it open and a single piece of paper slipped out.

Dearest Uncle,

I'm afraid I can no longer be happy with living the life of a noble. It is cowardly to run from my problems, I know, but I have to do this. I'm tired of living a life set out for me.

I beg you to understand and to forgive me.

Your niece,

Sandry.

Briar gaped at the note in disbelief.

She was gone.

A/N: Whoa. Didn't see that one coming. Review and let me know what think of my story!