Elphaba clutched her lemonade. The others drifted off as Fiyero collected the last script.
The stubborn bitterness coursing through her had no real contribution from the prince but would be his wages nonetheless. Avaric, Galinda, Pfannee, all needling them together, for whatever reasons. All pestering and pressuring until she bent to their will.
"Shall we?"
No, she thought. But she trailed behind him with lips stretched tight. "After you."
"A gentleman-"
Her teeth formed more shark than smile. "You know the manor much better than I."
He gestured forward, to the edge of the veranda. At the short steps, he held out a hand, which she promptly ignored.
How long would she be stuck with him, with this stupid play? He snuck another pathetic attempt for a clandestine look at her, and she snapped, "What by Kumbricia to you keep staring at me for?"
His eyebrow lifted. "Do I?"
"If you toss me some pathetic compliment, I shan't be responsible for my actions."
His lips quirked up. "Hardly setting the mood for our dramatic love scene, are you?"
She pursed her lips.
He led them around the corner, eyes firmly trained ahead. "Funny, since I hear tell that you are infatuated with me."
"Don't flatter yourself," she snapped. Teasing tone or not, she'd little tolerance for more arrogant men.
"I'd never dare, certainly not to presume your intentions." He cleared his throat. "I had thought you interested in our swashbuckling pirate as of late?"
Oz, that embarrassment. She shrugged. "My only interest lies in my books. I confess, I agreed to my friend's foolish idea to try this romance and flirting, but I do not believe it's taken root with me, nor shall it."
"A shame." He held open the tall, ivy-draped gate enclosing a small hidden garden, complete with bubbling fountain and stone bench. Galinda would have oohed herself into a puddle at the sight. "You are quite gifted at it, you know."
She rolled her eyes. "I see you are also delusional. Hardly an encouragement to spend time locked alone in a garden with you. Is my life in jeopardy?"
He leaned close and adopted a sinister expression. "Of grave certainty."
She laughed, quite against her intentions. He quirked a crooked smile as well, and a light breeze stirred the scents from the garden to flutter in swirling eddies around them - gardenias, jasmine, honeysuckle. She supposed there were more torturous ways to spend the afternoon.
Oh, fine. She could spend time with the boy. It was a play, not a marriage, for Oz sake. She stepped through the gate, and he let it swing shut behind them with a dull metallic clank. The chain of her choices latching in place. "So we are to be fairies?"
"Yes." He made a face. "Apparently we are doomed lovers that have been parted, and as fairies, we wreak our vengeance on the mere mortals below by dividing their loves."
"The vengeance sounds appealing, but I fear the fairy part shall more than make up for it."
"I'm afraid you're right." He led them to the stone bench. "Shall we?"
She sighed and sank to the seat beside him. "Let's get it over with." He held the script between them, and they passed the time easily reading the scattered attempt at a plot.
"Ah, here we are." He pointed to a large on the page. "Reunited."
She read the page, cheeks warming as she took in the increasingly dramatic love scene.
Fiyero cleared his throat. "Finished?"
She turned the page. "This is dreadful. They're still going?"
"Well, a dramatic death scene requires commitment."
"If you die, why do you still have lines?" She wrinkled her nose, and he chuckled at her expression.
"Special fairy powers?"
She knocked her shoulder into his to settle his mirth. "This is awful." She pushed the script away and stood to roll her neck. "I refuse to read more of this without a break."
His smile dropped. "A break, or a chance to run off to that stable hand of yours?"
She whirled on him. "What did you say?"
"He's only-"
She snatched the script and whacked him with it. "It's none of your business what he is, but he certainly isn't mine. And if you were half the gentleman you claim to be, you'd stay out of matters that don't concern you." The nerve of him!
His voice fell soft. "You concern me."
"I most certainly do not." She tossed the script at his feet and stormed toward the gate, fighting a sudden unwanted sing of emotion.
He caught her hand, and she swung around, fist raised. He dodged. "Wait." She glared at him, but held still. When she didn't flee, he gave her fists an exaggerated stare.
"Honestly." She rolled her eyes, but dropped her hands. "Scared of a girl?"
"Damn right. I've seen you in action."
It didn't earn him the smile he sought, but she did lower her hands.
"I apologize." He made a face like the words choked him. "It was uncouth of me to interfere, whatever my reasons to distrust him." She narrowed her eyes. "And whatever choice you make for your," he swallowed hard, "desired company, I shall respect it. I'll not mention him again."
"For which I'd be most grateful." Her acid tone did not fully match the appeasement his apology had brought.
"Would you...if you'd like to go see him-"
"So help me," she snapped, grabbing his face with both her hands. Wide, shocked eyes stared into her own at the contact. "If you don't shut up about it, I shall shake you silly. I'm more than aware of my own autonomy, and seek no permission from you whether you'd give it or not." But if he didn't stop needling her about Avaric, making her think about that idiot and all the hurt still swarming at the memory of his face, she might do worse than shake him. She might even cry, and it would serve him right if she did. Brainless buffoon. "Do you even know what not mentioning something means? Or do you always immediately bring up with you're not going to say?"
"I-"
She flung her hands away and paced back. "Honestly. If the next words you say are anything other than about this play-"
He dipped a bow and started toward the gate. She frowned and caught his elbow. "Where are you going?"
"To take my burdensome presence from you." Despite the melodramatic words, his tone held only contrition. "You're right. I'm a fool. Please forgive me."
She looked to the sky to save her. Oz, for a charming prince, he was truly exhausting. "You'd abandon me to this monstrosity alone?" she said with a wave toward the neglected pages fluttering by the bench.
"You'd have me stay?"
"I can't very well kiss myself."
His face melted into a smile at that. He dipped his head, a hand rubbing over his neck. "I'm happy to serve, though I confess I'm terrified you might slap me at such an attempt."
"I likely shall." She picked up the book, "I shall show you a tale of such laughter and woe." She held it to him for his half of the line. When he didn't answer, she met his bright eyes. His gaze asked for something, but what she couldn't say. So she rolled her eyes at his grin and nudged his arm.
His obliged with his line, "As ever a people have cause to know."
She pressed her lips together, and unbidden, a smile found her face as his fingers brushed lightly against hers. The ridiculous lines blurred, and they'd reached the last pages.
"I shall share your fate."
She flushed at the prompt to kiss, and found herself blurting out instead, "Why do you care about Avaric, anyway?" She didn't want to ask, but the words came nonetheless. Maybe she was a brainless buffoon as well.
He frowned. "I thought I was not to mention him?"
Here. The perfect chance to correct this idiotic conversation she'd stupidly restarted. But instead she said, "Only if you explain."
"What is there to explain? You…" He shook his head. "He is a cad, and doesn't deserve you. A lout that toys with women's emotions."
She huffed a mirthless laugh. "That's rich, coming for you."
"How so?"
His wounded expression tore at her, but she refused to fall for the charade. "Considering what you do."
"What I do?"
She waved her hand all around.
"Oh." He sighed. "Perhaps. But whereas I see this as a chance to share kindness and chivalry, he views it as a chance to spread heartache. I certainly would not have left you in danger. Or tears."
She bristled.
"And before you say it, I know you see yourself immune to both. But I can't help it. I long for your smile, not your heartache."
"I've no heartache over him." Lie, her conscience echoed, but she refused to acknowledge it as such.
"Good." He pressed his lips tight, and looked off at the bed of daisies. His mild expression hid his simmering tone. "Have you been keeping to your room at night, now?"
"What do you-" The meaning caught up to her, and she stood, eyes flashing.
He caught her arm. "I didn't mean…that. I meant the gardens. You shouldn't be alone after dark. They aren't safe."
"Yes, the roses are quite vicious."
"You know what I refer to." He dropped her arm and turned his back to her. "Have that cad at least escort you to your room, if you must go with him."
She could tell the words cost him, but she'd had enough of his commands. "I'm not a fool, you know. And even you acknowledge I can defend myself."
"Perhaps." He looked unconvinced, and she sent a playful tap to his chin. He caught her hand, and held it there for a moment.
"Have I bruised your ego along with your jawline?"
He absorbed the tease without losing any sobriety. "Hardly. I admire your resolve."
"To bruise you?"
"To defend yourself. And honestly, to do anything which you have chosen to. I've never seen anyone as thoroughly an embodiment of resolve." He brushed a thumb lightly over her cheek, drawing a warmth in his wake far greater than the heat of his finger.
"Please, madame, unhand me. This is most improper!"
Crope tumbled through the gate with Pfannee latched around his neck. She flung herself in another incomplete kiss, and he nearly fell into the tree.
Elphaba caught Fiyero's shoulders and yanked him out of sight behind the statue before they were seen. She met his eyes, and held a finger to her lips.
"But come, all the other lovers kiss. Surely the goddess of love would seduce her beloved as well."
"It is not in the script, Miss Pfannee."
A peek from behind the statue showed the pair, the pirate looking woefully rumpled. This is why she'd needed Elphaba's help? Honestly.
"We must follow as the muse leads."
Crope dodged another flung seduction. "I'm afraid we must have differing spirits, then, milady."
Pfannee launched herself again, and his dodge sent her splashing into the fountain. Elphaba choked on a laugh, trying desperately to stay quiet.
Crope hesitated. His face bore the quarreling urges to run or to rescue the girl. Ever chivalrous, he leaned over to offer her a hand, and she pounced on him, both tumbling to wrestle in the water.
The silent quaking of Elphaba's laughter drove the breath from her, and she lost her grip on the statue as she fought not to collapse. Fiyero caught her into him, shaking himself. She muffled her suppressed cackles against his chest, hands fisted in his jacket to keep in control, and he pressed his face into her hair for the same reason.
"Ma'am! Please compose yourself. This is not a brothel!"
Eyes hidden to the mirth, she slowly regained her faculties, and the voices of the others dimmed, no doubt continuing the chase to another venue.
And with their removal came the realization of how she was pressed into Fiyero. Sobered, she immediately pulled back.
He tilted her face up and whispered. "At least we aren't cast in those roles."
"I don't believe they were acting."
"Surely not." But her expression must have convinced him of the truth. "How brazen! In that case, I must doubly thank you for my rescue."
She glanced around to make sure they had left, trying hard to ignore the twinge of conscience at his words. She'd saved Fiyero, perhaps, but only by knowingly condemning poor Crope. She shook her head and took a grateful step back. "I thought the prince rescued the maiden, not the other way round."
"I'm not so foolish as to agree to that, and I, for one, am happy to be rescued."