AN: I switched into a fracture brace, and I'm really struggling now. Wow this hurts! I don't recommend it. I can definitely commit to at least posting weekly updates, but I'll still try for alternating days. Thanks everyone for your kind thoughts.
Sunlight streamed through the window, and Fiyero stirred slowly. A strange euphoria floated through him, so at odds with the crushing dread of yesterday. Waking tangled up in Elphaba made quite an upgrade from Aruc's hairy legs. She stretched languidly against him, rolling her neck, and his eyes fluttered closed at the pull of her body against him. Her cold nose burrowed into his shoulder with an adorable grumble. Where was his fierce warrior now? Hiding from the sunlight.
He brushed her wild hair back from her face and tipped close to kiss her temple. "I'd never have pegged you as a cuddler," he teased in a whisper.
She shoved him off, startled, and he caught her before she could tumble from the bed.
"Not that I'm complaining. Merely an observation."
She blinked at him. "Get out of my bed." When he didn't move, she shoved away and scrambled up. "Quick. Before they catch you here."
Let them catch him. He could think of several ways he'd enjoy trying to wake the castle so they might. She sent wild eyes at him, and he gave up any hope of stolen kisses in snuggly sheets. "Shuffling me out of my own castle? Careful, a man could feel a bit dismissed." He sat up and straightened his twisted shirt.
She groused her complaints, and he flirted his excuses while she edged him to the door.
He wound his fingers in her wild hair. Mmm, wild. She drove him wild. And she still hadn't told him no, only that others didn't approve. Her eyelids fluttered heavily. "You know, you look pretty enticing straight out of bed."
She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm sure bed-hair is extremely alluring."
"Oh, it is." If she knew how much, she'd probably dump him out the window. He traced his nose over her ear. "It compels thoughts of how it became tangled. Or might yet."
He felt the heat of her skin, felt the hard swallow as he skated down her neck to kiss her collarbone. Otherwise he'd have believed her even tone, "Goodbye, Fiyero."
He unleashed his finest charm, his most seductive smile. "Wouldn't you rather I stay and help you untangle it?"
"Out."
He let her go with a heavy sigh. "Don't pretend you're not tempted."
"Perhaps." He leaned forward to renew his persuasions, but she backed him up to the door. "But resolved."
Still, she'd admitted her attraction for him. That alone brought a grin to his face. And then, like a miracle, she pecked a kiss to his cheek complete with eye roll and deep blush.
"Go. Before you wake the whole castle."
He linked their hands together as they crossed the darkened sitting room. Every moment with her stole him another drop of hope. At the hallway, he pulled their hands to rest over his heart. "I fear you may have addicted me to waking up with you."
"Don't be ridiculous. You've a wife to think of."
He frowned reflexively. "She isn't who I think of."
"She should be." Elphaba crossed her arms. "Go on. Before you talk me into something else terrible."
He grinned. "Why? Is it working?"
She rolled her eyes. "Oz, you're insufferable."
"But you love me for it." He couldn't keep his eyes off her lips - those beautiful, kissable lips.
"Do I, now?"
"Don't you?" She flashed an enigmatic smile, and he half-growled at her. "You little minx. Are you trying to tempt me?"
"Don't be ridiculous." She glared at him, and then a smile cracked her stern exterior. "I don't have to try."
His eyebrows skyrocketed. She was actually flirting with him? Openly? He tutted in mock censure but leaned closer. "Well, that is certainly true."
"Prince Fiyero?"
Her father stood there, wiping the sleep from his eyes, and Elphaba flew away from Fiyero in a breath. A sharp odor stung his nose, and he frowned. Was that from Frexspar? It felt familiar, a strong spice like coriander or cloves. It bothered his memory even as he wondered what it could possibly matter in this urgent moment. Perhaps she'd given him a stroke. All that toying with his blood pressure…
"What are you doing here?"
For a flash, he could find no answer to her father's very legitimate question. Then he swallowed. "I came to deliver Miss Elphaba's necklace. She must have dropped it yesterday, and I didn't want her to worry."
She snapped up to stare at him, and he willed her to look natural. Frexspar flicked a scowl at her. "Very generous of you, young man. But surely you have other concerns this morning. I'm surprised to see you up so early."
Fiyero shrugged. "What's that saying?" His father adored maxims. Did that apply to all fathers? "Early to bed, early to rise? Is not steady occupation the cure to mischief?"
Her father nodded. "Ah. I prefer the scriptures of course: A lazy man is an abomination." He touched the book lying on the credenza with a subconscious superstition. "Though I doubt any would fault you today."
Fiyero grimaced a smile. "Yes, sir."
"Yes, well," Elphaba forced out brightly, half-shoving him out the door. "You've delivered the necklace, for which I am so very grateful."
"Are you?" he teased, and she predictably flushed.
She hissed through her teeth, "But I'm sure you've more pressing business to see to, yes?"
He longed to disagree, but he contented himself to merely fluster her. "Pressing?" He eyed her lips. "Yes, I believe so."
"So you'd best be going."
Fiyero complied with a bowed farewell that Fresxpar returned in his stiff manner. Fiyero started to say goodbye to Elphaba, but she slammed the door in his face. A low shout filtered through the heavy door, and he nearly knocked. No, she wouldn't welcome him back, whatever disturbance he'd missed.
Then it clicked in place, where he'd smelled that sharp scent before. What in Oz was Brother Frexspar doing with Master Jinul enough to steep in that smell?
Jinul, who'd been talking to Three. Three, who'd been followed by Aruc. Aruc, who'd been on secret business for his father. His father, who'd been afraid that Frexspar sought to disrupt their trade. Fiyero, who'd had far too little sleep to unravel that train of secrets except to know that he trusted Frexspar even less now. He had to tell his father.
He'd made it halfway there before a disconcerting thought stalled him.
How would he explain how he'd smelt the man? The necklace lie? Unwise. His father had an uncanny ability to spot lies. It always made Fiyero feel eight again, hiding a broken vase and certain to get caught.
Could he wait until breakfast, or would Frexspar have washed it away by then? He supposed there wasn't much choice. He ought to wash up himself, though he loathed the loss of jasmine still clinging to his skin.
He turned back to his room, and nearly there, was struck by another awful thought. Was his room still his room, or their room? He paced through the empty halls without purpose. He'd never been struck by so many thoughts in such an awful succession. What would he give to crawl back into the blankets with Elphaba and start this day over again?
He passed Nessa in the hallways and ducked out of sight before she could notice him. Cowardly. But it meant his room was free, so he doubled back to get cleaned up.
Subterfuge with Frexspar held little promise, but if Jinul had stayed the night, perhaps Fiyero could find answers there. Jinul would be at breakfast now, but then, so might Nessa. Instead he wandered the halls for hours in search of the spicer who might not even have stayed. Hours later, he smelt the sharp aroma before he saw the man.
Finally.
He rushed to the corner to peek around the edge.
"You're making it worse!" He jumped at the hand that clutched his shoulder and clattered over a silver pitcher decorating a narrow credenza. Water splashed, and Elphaba leapt back, thankfully dry, with a hand flung up to keep him at bay. He swallowed a deep breath to slow his heart rate.
Well, whoever had been there had to have heard the commotion. Fiyero sighed and let the chase go.
Her arms snapped across. "She's even more miserable than before."
He pulled her with him into a nearby lounge. Once private, he flopped back against the wall hard enough to thunk his head. "Oz, woman. What more must I do? I've married her, haven't I?" He drug a hand through his hair. "She knew what she was getting. Don't blame me if that's what she got."
Elphaba's hands spread wide. "She feels neglected. Unwanted."
"She is!" He caught her face in his hands, drawing every word out for intensity. "You are the one I want. Not her. You. Only you. Ever. You." Where was his flirtatious minx from this morning? He resented this pull back into these circular arguments that somehow he always lost. Did she just enjoy the tragedy?
He expected an outburst, but her face collapsed in a worried frown. "She was alone." Her voice fell to a whisper. "Helpless. What if she needed something? Who would help her?"
Guilt thundered through him.
No. She wouldn't suck him into this again. She wrapped him and his good intentions around her finger and packaged him off like a pig to the slaughter. He cloaked his regret in a callous shrug. "You share her bed. Then I'd be there in a heartbeat."
She wrinkled her nose at his lecherous remarks. "Stop being a cad." He gave her a hard look, and she shoved his shoulder.
"Stop pushing me off on your sister."
That hit the mark. She recoiled, arms around herself. "Your wife," she hissed.
"Whose fault is that?"
She stepped back as if he'd slapped her. He regretted her pain, but not the words. They were true, and Oz, did he mean nothing to her? She smiled at him one moment and skewered his heart the next.
She tilted her head back. "This is all so wrong. It was supposed to make everything better, when you married her. Now everything is so much worse." He shook his head at the complete lack of logic, but he leaned beside her, just the same.
"How could it help anyone that I'm desperately in love with the sister of my wife?"
She caught his hand, desperation in her eyes. "Fiyero, she needs you."
He felt his shoulders slump. "I suppose that's true enough." Always duty piled on duty. When would it end?
"Please, stop avoiding her."
He sighed. A simple enough request. He dipped a nod.
She stepped closer, and he immediately tensed. "And maybe tonight you could-"
"No." Hadn't he made this clear?
"I just mean, not that, but." She swallowed. "Just sharing. Not…anything else."
His jaw tightened. "No."
She glared at him. "Well, don't plan on sleeping in my room again. You might as well stay with her."
She couldn't keep on like this. He felt coated in filth as it was. He caught her chin. "Listen to me carefully. I will not now, or ever, sleep with your sister. In any way. In any sense. For any reason. No exceptions. No compromises. No barters. Never. Don't pursue this. Don't."
She drew a breath to argue and abandoned it by the look in his eyes.
"But I will stop avoiding her." He let his eyes close. "And I'll make arrangements for her to have help available. So long as we're clear that help will not be me." He ran a hand through his hair. "I did promise to take care of her, whatever my feelings on the matter."
He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. She tucked her fingers lightly against his shirt. They both stayed there, lingering for too long in each other's arms.
He twined their fingers together. "So when is our next lesson?"
Elphaba frowned. "What do you mean?"
He chuckled into her crown, twisting her braid between two fingers. "Surely you haven't forgotten them so quickly. I can never seem to stop thinking of them."
She pulled back. "Well, there's nothing to discuss now, so…"
"What do you mean? How is there nothing to discuss?" Her damned sister was all they discussed.
"You can ask Nessa directly. Assuming you'll ever be in the same room as her."
He narrowed his eyes. "So no lessons." She'd pulled the rug out from him again. What next? She'd disappear in the night until Nessa stubbed her toe?
Elphaba studied the scenery beyond the window. "What could I show you?" His arms slid around her waist, and he let his eyes show all the answers she'd discard. She blushed. "Don't be uncouth."
"Shan't I?" He brushed his lips along the nape of her neck, and she shivered. "I have no feelings toward propriety at the moment." He'd always been a tactile person, and frustrated and hurt and miserable as he was, he needed those lessons. Needed her. A little hair brushing seemed of comparatively little harm.
But she countered with a dry, "I've noticed." She spun away. "This is precisely why we can't continue lessons."
"Why? I haven't done anything." She lifted an eyebrow, and yes, he could concede that he should've added a 'yet.' But still. Hadn't he earned this by now? "I can behave, you know."
"Can you?"
"If you ever asked me to." She glowered at him, but he didn't give her the space to argue. "Beyond reminding me how we can't – quite unnecessarily I might add. That fact never for a second escapes me. I am brutally, constantly, achingly reminded."
They bickered, but as usual, Fiyero lost to her stubbornness. Great. Nothing to look forward to with his miserable life, then, huh. He stormed out, and nearly slammed headfirst into Aruc.
"There you are. I've been looking on all over for you."
"Not now, Aruc."
"Your father sent for you urgently. Where have you been? I've been trying to find you all morning to say."
He jerked a thumb toward the salon behind him. "Elphaba's in there. Maybe you ought to talk to her." Aruc grinned and slapped his back.
"Thanks, mate!"
He regretted the spiteful move as soon as his friend slipped through the doorway. He dutifully clomped off to his father's office. What now? What unreasonable demands were required next? Chop off an arm to wave the white flag with? Take Three as a concubine?
He already opened the door when he realized he ought to have knocked. He tapped a belated trio on the doorframe. "You called for me?"
His father frowned, and Balad swiveled to fix beady eyes on him. Jinul would have to wait. No chance he'd risk telling his father in front of that lunatic. The advisor pursed his lips. "Your tardiness is of issue, too, I see."
"I came as soon as I was summoned. How was I to know the time otherwise?"
Balad lifted an eyebrow. "Precisely as I said. Arrogance."
On most days, Fiyero would have swallowed the insult without complaint. He didn't actually care Balad's opinion of him, and his father valued diplomacy over pride. But with the constant quagmire his life had become, endless sacrifices thanked only with complaints, and the ever-present threat that Elphaba would be returning home soon, he couldn't maintain his silence.
"Yes, I think so as well, to make such a statement to your crown prince."
Balad flushed, eyes averted, but his father's jaw ticked forward.
"And an arrogant retort," his father said. Fiyero knew better than to think the soft tone mild. He was in real trouble. "Your title does not entitle you to be selfish."
He barked a bitter laugh. "I apologize for whatever selfishness I have shown."
"If only it were that simple." His father turned to the window. "Shut the door."
Real trouble indeed.
Fiyero stepped inside, his heartbeat loud in his ears. What had he done? Had he been seen with Elphaba? No. No, they couldn't have. They had been in the salon. Her room? Oh, Oz. At least his clammy hands didn't shake as he turned the knob.
"Hours of meetings, hours went into those words agreed upon." Words? What? The king glared at the lone cloud outside. "You attended those meetings personally. You knew what was at stake."
Meetings, with Nessa? Her training? Balad's eyes shone with a hunger that made Fiyero's stomach clench. "I-"
His father held up a hand. "Your so-called vows plunked quite the rock in the pond for us."
Oh.
He studied the edge of the carpet. "How may I atone?"
Balad's hands twisted together, but his father stepped away from the window. All his worst punishments came reflected in that pane. He let himself take heart that perhaps his father accepted his apology.
"The answer is not so simple I'm afraid."
He waved a hand for Balad, whose eyes lit with a vicious enjoyment at Fiyero's misfortune. "The Traditionalists are spreading dissention that our prince swore himself to this foreign girl who seems to have no interest or pride in Vinkun culture. She controls him like a witch, they say, with her lack of arms as the cost of her power."
The bigotry slammed into him. These were his people? The ones he constantly sacrificed every ounce of his happiness for?
"Harsh, but a symptom of their fear."
Fiyero shook his head. "I fail to see how some wording is the main contributor to that."
"You do?" His father's disappointment brought heat to Fiyero's cheeks. "They believed it a contract, a marriage of equals with equal vows. Then you bind yourself to her, how was it, 'beyond forever and deeper than eternity'?"
He paled.
"And here I thought you uncertain of her character, last we spoke."
When he'd begged not to marry her. He longed to confess why, but Balad stood there, preparing all the ways he'd tally up this information for his own gain.
"Her sister certainly has not helped matters, quarrelling so openly with Miss Three. And your bride's ignorance led her to offend Master Quiqon, undoing all our work to the contrary."
His forehead wrinkled. When had she seen the Yunamata ambassador?
"Thankfully your friend Master Aruc was there to smooth the encounter. He has been quite the help in the last few days, not the least of which in occupying your responsibilities while you were notably absent."
When he'd left her, when he'd run off with Elphaba. Of course the guests would still expect her to interact, but without his expertise of their cultures, he'd abandoned her to them. Perhaps he was selfish.
"What can I do?"
Balad shuffled some papers with a smug grin. "We have an opening, before he leaves. You'll need to find him, but with some pretense. If he sees you as soliciting favor-"
"He'll think us desperate and ripe for a takeover."
"But you also can't seem haughty," Balad looked down his nose at Fiyero with some difficulty from his lower height. "Let the incident stain your bride's reputation, not yours. Apologize for her poor behavior. She is learning. She is a child. You and the proud Vinkun people will teach her how true nobility behaves. We will reform the pampered girl into a strong, proud Arjiki."
Fiyero frowned. "Would that not risk relations with Munchkinland?"
"The Yunamata are a more pressing concern. And take Miss Three. No one might accuse you of witchery if you so publicly denounce her."
"Demean her, you mean," he sighed. He ran a hand through his hair. Whatever his thoughts of Nessa, he couldn't do this. "She is my wife, and you would have me ridicule her for short-term gain? That behavior is below us."
"Your behavior is what's brought us here," his father snapped. He had returned to the window. "You had the path before you and drove us into the dunes. Now there is no easy road, and we must haul ourselves out."
"At the cost of our future queen?"
His father shook his head. "I'm not any happier about it. I agree, this is below us. But our other choices have deeper impact than one girl's feelings."
"So does this." How did they not see that? "When her father hears? You know how he dotes on her. He will be incensed, and all this will be for nothing."
"What do you propose?" Balad sneered.
Fiyero sought out that cloud, too, following its path through the glass. "I'll speak with him, yes, and Three as well. But without ridiculing Nessa. What did she do, exactly?"
"Master Aruc can tell you better than I."
He nodded. "I'll speak with him, then. Surely there is a way that doesn't risk war from both sides." He shook his head. "Please let me try, Father."
His father drew a long breath, but Balad huffed, "You've no plan? How did your last improvised speech go? Perhaps she does have you under a spell, or is your arrogance really such that-"
"Choose your words," his father spoke, and Balad paled at the quiet intensity. "That is my son, and your prince, however foolishly he reminded you already."
"Yes, Your Highness. My deepest apologies." He bowed low, eyes wide. "That is to say, would not a carefully crafted speech be more prudent, given the origin of these disasters?"
His father studied Fiyero's face. "You believe you can do this?"
"Yes, Father. I'd like to try."
"You know the costs?"
War, raw and bloodied, all on his conscience. And his father would never trust him again. Fiyero drew in a heavy breath. "I do."
"Then it is yours to deal with as you see fit."
Balad's eyes widened so comically that Fiyero thought they might tumble right from his face. "But Your Highness!"
"I have decided. Go, son, and hurry."
He understood, he did, the need for all this, even the damned marriage. Nor could he guarantee Elphaba would jump right into marrying him if Nessa suddenly recanted. He served too many masters, though, and all in seeming conflict.
He took his time leaving with Balad's beady eyes on his back. He contemplated waiting by the door to hear the slander that snarky little twerp would level at him, but the better revenge would be success.
"Still wandering the halls?" Three sashayed up, and Fiyero fought back a growl. Why did he find everyone in the hall except the person he wanted?
"Miss Three. I trust your morning has been pleasant thus far?"
She tossed her hair back over her shoulder. "Brightening by the moment, my prince."
"Wonderful," he said through a frozen smile. Whatever improved her day undoubtedly darkened his. She and her cronies and their rumors…the urge to punch her, woman or not, was pretty intense.
She set a lingering hand on his arm. "And where is your lovely wife?"
"With her family, no doubt. She'll miss them when they're gone."
Her lips curled at the corners. "Are they, then? Going?"
He shrugged. "At some point."
"Poor Aruc. He'll be so lovesick for the sister."
"Elphaba." Three lifted an eyebrow, and he forced his face to stay blank, his voice casual. "Her name is Elphaba."
Her fingers slid warmly up and down his wrist. "What a kind beau you are, taking an interest in her family."
"Mine, too, now," he said carefully, though his thoughts for Elphaba were far from sisterly. Still, it offered his best protection to her. "He needn't despair yet. Their bags aren't exactly packed at the door."
"Oh?"
She tilted her head with interest. Had he said too much? "Sisters ought to be together, don't you agree?"
Her smile twitched, sharpened. "Yes. Sisters are a gift."
Those eyes, so out of place in this wicked face. "I'm sure you miss yours."
Her eyes widened. He never spoke of her, never, and certainly not to someone like Three. But he had to know. Was her grief genuine, her pride for her homeland sincere? Was she a conniving serpent, or merely his opponent by means of philosophy?
She gaped, swallowed, emotions flickering over her face too quick to be named.
"My…of course. I…" Her act shattered, she blinked at him as if coming awake.
"I do, too," he confessed. "Even now." He'd regret the sincerity later, but the tenuous connection of heart to heart, no matter how separated by ideology, allowed him to hope.
The door opened, and she snapped back. "Please excuse me." She slunk away to rebuild her shell lest anyone else see the person beneath.
Quiqon came out, Jinul beside, and Fiyero bit his lip at the swarm of questions that brought. "Gentlemen."
"Prince Fiyero." The trader inclined his head, wafting those spices that itched Fiyero's nose. "Were you looking for us, sir?"
He looked around as if realizing where he stood. "Oh, no. Miss Three and I were walking, and I must have lost track of where to." He nodded toward the corner where light steps could be heard on the hardwood floor.
"Miss Three?" Jinul's eyebrows disappeared in the mop of sandy hair atop his forehead, and Quiqon frowned.
"Yes. She's been staying with us."
Quiqon's forehead wrinkles deepened to Mount Rijiks' proportions. "Oh."
JInul dipped a bow. "I actually hoped to spare a word with her. Her father has a caravan advantageous for coordination. Transportation costs can eat quite a healthy profit. Excuse me."
Fiyero watched him go. What ripples would that cause? Sometimes he thought his father too afraid to chunk some rocks. Those ripples can map out the depth, or surface, farther and faster than the duck alone.
Quiqon took a step toward the opposite hallway. "I should be going as well. My transport should be here by now. Thank you for your gracious hospitality, and best of luck in your union."
"Thank you." Think, think. Fiyero held out a hand. "Please. Allow me to assist you with your luggage."
Quiqon looked down at his briefcase, obviously too light and too personal for stewards to carry. "No, thank you, Your Highness."
"I would like to apologize." He still hadn't talked to Aruc, so he had no actual idea of what Nessa had done. "I meant to find you at the reception, but I believe my wife was able to speak with you."
The man hesitated. "Yes."
"Good. I hope you shall accept her favor as a sign of mine as well."
"Favor?"
He tilted his head. "Naturally. You said she spoke with you, yes?"
Still that hesitation. "Yes." Oz, he wished he knew what he was cleaning up.
He conjured Elphaba's face to adopt the appropriately doting smile. "My proud Vinkun princess. She is still learning our customs, of course, but her heart carries such pride for her people." He leaned in. "I know she can run hot and cold, but she is so fierce! A true Arjiki."
"Fierce?" Quiqon shook his head. "If that is Arjiki fierceness, I worry for your guard."
Not an insult, then, or it would have made sense. Fiyero boomed a laugh. "As I said, her favor, not to unleash her temper after your offense." Quiqon's mouth opened, brows drawn, but Fiyero held up a hand. "Please, make no mention of it. The princess has already put it from her mind."
"She was offended?"
He frowned. "Of course." He stared at the man for a moment, and then finally, that subtle slope to Quiqon's shoulders. Yes. He'd remembered something which Fiyero could exploit. "But she is still new to our customs. I convinced her to put it out of her mind, for the good of our two noble peoples. Though it did take some of my best," he winked, "persuasion."
Quiqon's chuckle was just a shade of nervous. "Thank you."
Fiyero clapped a hand to other man's shoulder. "Think no more of it. Our people must stand together. An example of true strength. Vinkun strength."
They had reached the door, and Fiyero bid the ambassador farewell. He hoped that worked. Ugh, he felt dirty. He watched the carriage drive off, and then beelined for Aruc.
"What did she do?" he asked when he found him in, no surprise, the hallway. In a castle with so many rooms, why were the hallways suddenly like the Emerald City's Wizard Square?
Aruc turned and shook his head. "Nothing new."
Fiyero frowned. "What do you mean?"
"What do you mean?" Aruc tilted his head. They looked at each other. "Three," he answered at the same time Fiyero said, "Nessa."
"Three first," Fiyero answered. "You're tailing her?"
"Not anymore. Should I?"
Fiyero gave a hopeless shrug. "I suppose someone should, but I'm not privy to specific plans." Aruc frowned, but thankfully didn't comment on the tension with his father that suggested. Fiyero dug a hand through his hair. "Can you tell me what happened with Nessa and the Yunamata ambassador?"
Aruc made a face. "I'm not sure entirely. She was so nervous, which I suppose most brides are. I went to get her a bryla pastry and calm her down with some carbs." He shook his head. "I know, I should have just flagged down a steward."
"It's not your fault. She was my responsibility, not yours."
Aruc flashed him a sympathetic smile. "I shouldn't have left her. I don't know what he said to her, but she definitely accused him of having the worst mustache in Oz."
Fiyero boomed a laugh. This is what threatened the security of his people?
"And I believe ogling her…lady parts. But the crying seemed to soften him."
"It didn't." Fiyero pursed his lips. "And you don't know what he said to her?"
Aruc shook his head. "Is it true we're going to war with them?"
"We're doing our best to answer that no."
"And that probably tipped the scales. Great, I started a war." Aruc let his head hang back. "I'm sorry, mate. You trusted me, and I let you down."
"If anyone's let anyone down, it's me. You bear none of the blame for my negligence." Aruc wanted to argue further, but Fiyero shook his head. Would his friend be so quick to assume the blame if he knew why Fiyero had really disappeared? "No more of this, please. Did you notice anything off about Frexspar?"
"Their father?" Aruc frowned heavily. "No, why? Do you suspect him of something?"
Fiyero grimaced. "I can't speak for my father, but I don't trust him. I don't like how he treats his daughter." They shared a look, neither needing the clarification of who.
They split at a corridor, and at the very next corner, Fiyero turned straight into Nessa with a steward at her back.
He started to double back out of reflex, but he'd promised Elphaba. Oz, that woman and her promises. He nodded at the girl. "Miss Nessarose."
She eyed him coolly, "Husband."
His words ran out.
She pursed her lips. "I trust you slept well."
He met her challenge with an enigmatic, "I did, thank you."
Her eyes narrowed to slits. "You dare to say that to me? You dare-"
Fiyero tilted his head. "I would suggest you stop now. I've no interest in your embarrassment, but as I've spent the better part of my day repairing diplomatic relations you strained last night, I've not my usual patience just yet."
"Me?" she snapped. "You abandoned me."
"With Aruc, not thrown to the wolves."
She sneered at him. "Whatever you choose to believe, my prince," she cooed like Three. "Ugh. Why don't you run off to your little Jezebel?"
He shook his head. "Jealousy is not a pretty shade."
"Adultery even less," her nostrils flared, and his eyes rolled on their own.
"I've not been unfaithful to you." Physically. "If you want blame, look for your own stubbornness."
"Me!" she shouted. "I blame you."
"Careful, dearest," he returned, just as bitterly. He nodded toward the steward standing behind her, his eyes averted and distinctly uncomfortable. "We're in public. What is it your father said about being incapable of polite conversation?"
"That was about my sister," she snarled. "Not me."
Fiyero shook his head. Did she really believe that a retort? Oz, poor Elphaba growing up with these people. No wonder she jumped in to sacrifice herself. She'd been told her whole life how worthless she was, in comparison.
"Regardless, apologies, but I've no interest in being snarled at. Enjoy your day."
"Come back here," she demanded, but he strode past with a command to the steward not to follow. The man paled, but obeyed.
Still, he detoured through the east garden, trailing through the poppies to calm his nerves before he attempted any more of those dratted hallways for a bit.