For the first couple hours, Fiyero jerked at his bonds, scraping the chair and rubbing his skin raw. Once he managed to flip his chair, but that only accomplished a rough jerk upright from the guards and some truly remarkable bruises. They watched him struggle with a soundtrack of clucks and sighs. Whispers of 'bewitched' and 'stake' reached him, and he'd bleat uselessly against the gag with curses, pleas and moans that muffled incomprehensibly.
After several hours of this, aching and hoarse, his exhaustion and the hopelessness of his situation overwhelmed him. So he dozed, awful dreams haunting him until he'd jerk awake, sick and distraught that he'd wasted that time.
The door opened, and he jerked awake with a groan.
"What have you done to him?" His mother swept in. "Oz, Fiyero is your prince!"
"But, apologies Your Majesty." The guard dipped a bow. "His Highness commanded him to be restrained, after his last escape."
"Escapes," the other guard corrected automatically, and heat crept up Fiyero's neck.
His mother stalked to him and removed the gag. "Are you alright?"
Fiyero worked his cottony tongue and sore jaw before he answered. "No. I'm not alright. I'm tied to a chair while Father murders the girl I love."
"See? Bewitched," said one of the guards, and his mother turned on their pair. "Um, Your Majesty." Another bow.
"Untie him."
"But-" They shared a look.
She knelt and plucked at the knots herself, and they stared at each other wide-eyed.
The younger guard shuffled forward a step, but his partner caught his arm. "Your Majesty, please, stop."
"Or what? You'll toss me over your shoulders?" She lifted an imperial eyebrow that begged them to try.
The men paled. "But, we've orders-"
The guard beside jabbed an elbow. "Shut it," he hissed to his partner. He dipped another bow. "Perhaps we can escort you to His Highness and correct the commands."
She fixed him with a steady glare. "Perfect. I would like him to see personally who is responsible for the state of his son and heir."
They leapt to action, muttering apologies and dismissing any need for further action. His mother clucked over every injury, and he fought the urge to roll his eyes like a wayward teen. As if his raw wrists stacked up to Nessa's convulsions, or Elphaba's execution.
"Mother, we have to stop Father."
She held up a hand. "I'm not here to talk about that. She did what she did, and your father has already spoken."
His stomach sank. "But-"
She gave him a glare that shut him up. Not another word. They would be wasted if he bothered anyway, but she'd gotten him untied. Progress. If she could only get him free…
"Change your shirt," she fussed. "It has blood on it."
He rolled his eyes and tugged the offending garment off. His bruised ribs drew a frown, as did the angry scratch from his fall. He pulled on a clean shirt to hide his injuries before she could work herself up.
"Better." She tilted her head. "Brush your hair, too. You look like you've slept in a barnyard."
"Carriage," he replied automatically, and she sighed. He dragged a brush through his floppy hair. Why did all the women in his life bully him? "Anything else? Should I shave, too?" He rubbed his stubble with a sarcastic grin. "What exactly is execution etiquette?"
"Sarcasm is not attractive, dear. Alright, I suppose you'll do. Come on."
Both guards leapt to the door. "Your Majesty, please. We've orders." Truthfully, he shared their surprise, but his mother was a hurricane. Always smarter to get out of her path.
She turned her regal stare on them, and they quailed. "Escort us if you wish, but we are going now."
The guards shared a look and trailed behind like lost puppies them as his mother led him out. He assumed she'd take him to his father, but the walked past the stairs leading to the office.
"Where are we going?" His question drew her eyebrow, and he held up both palms. "Sorry, Mother. Shutting up."
Finally she stopped and knocked, and his forehead bunched together in confusion. Aruc's room? Why could she have brought him here?
"Remember an apology is not a justification. He doesn't need your reasons, only your contrition."
Fiyero flushed. "And if I've none to offer?"
She turned those fierce eyes on him. "Find it. With all your friend has done for you, contrition is the least you owe him."
The bald truth, he knew, but how could he regret loving Elphaba? Though if he were honest with himself, he had plenty to apologize for, if Aruc would even hear his confession. He knocked, but no answer came. He fought a knot of anxiety. What if Aruc reacted as Nessa had? Or his father?
But then Aruc turned the corner down the hall. "Your Majesty." His eyes flicked to Fiyero, but he did not otherwise address him. "I apologize. His Highness sent for me."
"To take custody of my son?"
Aruc nodded.
She turned to the guards. "There. You may go back to patrol."
Another collective shuffle of feet. "Your Majesty, apologies, but we ought to speak with His Highness directly."
"Well, go on, then. You know where he is." They shared a look again, but she ignored them to wave Aruc toward the door. "I imagine you'd like some privacy."
"Yes, Your Majesty." He bent and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. For a brief moment, his mother bore a resemblance to Three that would haunt Fiyero's nightmares. "Thank you for your assistance."
"Of course, dear." She turned on the guards. "What are you doing still here? I thought you felt obligated to clarify with my husband. How do you propose you do that from here?"
"But-"
"Or you imagine the queen to be lying?"
"No, Your Majesty. Of course not, Your Majesty. Apologies, Your Majesty." They half-tumbled over themselves scattering out of view.
A spark of hope flared in Fiyero's heart. "Father has relented, then? Is he rethinking Elphaba?"
She leaned in to make sure no guards could hear. "Certainly not. Men might make terrible liars, but I find most women excel at it, particularly as men believe us so incapable." His jaw dropped. She patted Aruc on his bicep with the shadow of a smirk curving her lips. "Be certain to keep track of him this time, though. We hardly need another incident like that dreadful debauchery before the wedding."
Aruc bowed and pressed another kiss to her hand. "Of course, Your Majesty."
She beamed at him. Then shook her head at Fiyero. "Contrition, son, and lots of it. And if you give him the least bit of trouble, I shall have your head myself." He swallowed hard. She probably would, at that.
Aruc waved him in and blocked the door once Fiyero stepped inside. His mother bade them goodbye with yet another supplicating kiss. Ugh, it was a little nauseating. If Elphaba got banished for kissing Fiyero, how would his father take Aruc flirting with his wife?
The door shut, and Aruc leaned back against it.
"I am, by the way," Fiyero started, fully prepared to break his mother's rule about rationalizations. "Sorry. But-"
"You've no need to explain."
He frowned, caught off-guard, and Aruc shrugged.
"I understand why you've done what you've done. And I won't lie, it hurt, but I doubt that was purposeful. I'm definitely jealous as Kumbricia, but I do understand. She's pretty impossible not to love."
"That's…wow." He knew in Aruc's place he would definitely not be as forgiving. "I don't know what to say."
"I'd already made my peace with it. She was never interested in me, no matter how hard we were pressed together." Aruc shook his head. "But I wish you had told me."
Fiyero flushed. "I wanted to, nearly did, but it wasn't just my secret to tell."
"I wouldn't have told anyone." His friend looked at him, a grown-up version of his pirate-sword waving partner, and Fiyero's pang of guilt flared into a fire, all the worse for his forgiveness.
"I know. I…I don't know what to say. I ought to have. It would have saved me all my foolish choices."
Aruc chuckled. "I'm no miracle worker, mate."
"I might need to apologize again." Fiyero nodded toward the door. Aruc lifted an eyebrow and smirked.
"Do you mean to fight me to get through this door?"
Fiyero grimaced. "I'd rather not, particularly after our heartfelt reconciliation."
Aruc boomed a laugh. "As if you could." He rolled his neck and stretched his shoulders. Fiyero eyed his friend, looking for weaknesses and all too aware of his own injuries. He definitely had the lion share of any handicaps, but he had the drive of desperation to pull him through.
Aruc feinted forward, and Fiyero leapt after him. Aruc dodged and boomed a laugh when Fiyero slammed into the door, rattling the hinges.
"Now, now, none of that. I can't have your mother thinking I asked for her help to wallop you." He offered Fiyero a hand up.
"Aruc, we have to help Elphaba."
His friend smirked. "Oh, you poor naïve fool. We don't have to do anything." Fiyero drew a breath, ready to beg his friend for help, but Aruc held up a hand. He pointed a finger in Fiyero's chest. "You will stay here and try not to break anything. I will rescue your beautiful girl, help her gain her freedom, and try to steal a kiss for my troubles."
He would help him? Fiyero grinned at his friend, a saint amongst mere mortals. "You needn't steal it, but fair warning, I'm a cuddler."
Aruc stuck out his tongue. "She's a lot prettier than you, mate, but it'd serve you right if I called you on that."
"It's a lot less undesirable than her neck in a noose."
That sobered the pair, and they fell to planning. Once they had worked out how to reach Elphaba, Aruc clapped a hand to his arm. "Leave the rest to me. I'm a great improviser."
"You're terrible, and you know it. But I haven't any other option." Fiyero rubbed a hand through his hair. "I don't know how to thank you for helping us."
"You can thank me by keeping your butt in this room so I don't replace her neck with mine."
"About that…"
Aruc frowned. "Nothing good for me ever follows that."
"I think I ought to punch you."
He lifted an eyebrow. "I think you might want to reconsider that."
"Father will be furious at Mother, but he won't banish her. You, on the other hand, there's no guarantee. If he thinks I escaped-"
"No escape. Butt in this room," Aruc repeated firmly.
"I can't stay in here." Aruc pursed his lips, and Fiyero pressed on. "We have to help Nessa, too. Elphaba will never leave her, and I'm the reason Three had those herbs in the first place. I have to do something."
Aruc chewed his lip. "Ugh, fine. Come on, then. And brush your hair. If you're going to play the doting husband, you can't look so ridiculous." He tossed a comb at him. "You look like a shaggy dog in a tornado."
"I have to make a stop first. We need Three."
His friend shuddered. "A terrible sentence I want stricken from my memory." Fiyero flashed him a commiserating look. "Why do you think she'll help you?"
"Your charm, my good looks?"
"Dog, tornado."
"Fine, my charm, your good looks?" His friend lifted eyebrow, and Fiyero sighed. "Your muscles, my title?"
Aruc pursed his lips. "That one might work."
"Oh, it'll work. She's helping, even if I have to drag her to Nessa by the hair."
But Three had likely anticipated their plan. She didn't answer the knock. Damn. He needed her to help save Nessa. He knew a little about common poisons and antidotes, but nothing he knew could cause that. He needed to know what she'd been given.
Fiyero locked eyes with Aruc, and his friend shrugged. "Hey, it's your palace."
Fiyero bit his lip. Everything in his culture demanded he stay out and respect the guest-host relationship, but Three had poisoned his wife, whether he wanted her or not. Surely she'd lost her privilege at that.
He cracked the door, and found the room empty, its contents bare.
Aruc peeked over his shoulder. "Well that's not good."
"We'll have to try Frexspar's room." He'd peek, but he wouldn't rummage. "Come on." A steward passed by, and Fiyero spun around like a guilty child. He swallowed and pushed his shoulders back. "Did Miss Three return home?"
The steward dipped a bow. "Apologies, Your Highness. Miss Three switched rooms." Probably to avoid just this.
"Can you show me to the new room?"
"I'm afraid I don't know which. May I send her to you?"
Fiyero grimaced. "No, thank you. I'll find her after I visit my wife."
"Apologies, Your Highness," the steward bowed low, "but if I might be so bold, I never believed you to be bewitched."
"Thank you," he replied, pressing away the question mark at the end.
"I believe in our royal family to lead the great Arjiki." Fiyero and Aruc shared a look. They hadn't time for this. "And so, I believe it is not a betrayal to say, I do not believe Miss Three shares my loyalties."
Fiyero bit his lip. That had cost the man something to say, so he tried to emphasize his thanks. "But I apologize, we are in a bit of a hurry."
"You might find this of some use, Your Highness." Another bow, and the steward placed the narrow list of herbs scrawled in Three's elegant handwriting that had sat in Fiyero's pocket mere days ago.
"Where did you get this?"
"Miss Three also forgot this." He handed Fiyero a letter, crumpled as if from a trash can, and then bowed low. "May your reign last as long as the stars in the sky."
"What does it say?" Aruc peeked over his shoulder. "Anything about the figure?"
"What figure?"
Aruc frowned. "Didn't your father say?" He drew a troubled breath. "Well, I guess if I'm breaking you both out, this is definitely less of a crime. I caught her spying on some figure in the garden. I never saw who. She went out almost every night, but I never saw her actually meet anyone."
"I'm afraid we haven't time for this." Fiyero shoved the letter in his pocket. "Go to Elphaba. We can't risk much later. I'll work out Nessa, and hopefully this while I'm at it.."
"Be safe."
"You, too." They clasped hands, and then Aruc disappeared off to their childhood hiding places to rescue Elphaba. Oz, he had to figure something out. Every piece added more puzzles, and he was running out of time. What if Nessa…no, he couldn't think about that.
He smoothed the paper out and read as he walked.
"I have received your message. It will be where you say. Do not write of my debts. It's foolish when anyone might intercept this, and I need no reminders. I do still need assurances that she will be safe."
It was unsigned, but the slanted handwriting did not belong to Three. She had annotated the edge with her own curvy script, "West Garden?" and crossed it out. Underneath, another swirled word, "East."
He hadn't time to riddle this out now. He stuffed both pages back into his pocket and threw back his shoulders. He marched to Nessa's door, and the guards stumbled to attention. "Your Highness. You're here?"
He embodied his best impression of his mother's indignant regality.
"Of course I'm here. My wife is in there dying." The guards shared an awkward look, and FIyero tipped his chin back. "Do you presume to stop me from entering?"
"No, Your Highness." They bowed, and he stalked past, all fiery regal wrath. They waited until they thought him out of earshot to descend in hurried whispers, "He's under guard here, at least. The king can't be too mad."
"Unless the witch enchanted him to murder the princess for certain, now."
"Well, she's dying anyhow."
"I'd rather not join her."
Fiyero turned back, and they all sprung up, spears clunking. "Has anyone fetched the physician?"
They shared a look. "I wouldn't know, Your Highness."
"So you've been guarding her without caring for her?" He eyed them coldly. "My wife. Your future queen. You didn't think to send for help."
"Apologies, Your Highness," said the thickest guard, arms like baby tree trunks. "I believe His Majesty sent for one."
Fiyero narrowed his eyes. "Believe. Hmm."
"I could…check."
"Go retrieve the physician yourself. Quickly."
"Yes, Your Highness." He sprinted off, and the other two shared a look. Fiyero crossed the room and reached for the doorknob.
The one with graying temples kept his eyes trained on Fiyero's progress as he whispered, "Well, if he sent for the doctor, he ain't enchanted to kill her, right?"
"Sure." The other guard took a step toward the hallway. "But still-"
Gray Temples grabbed Babyface Guard's elbow. "Oh, no. You're not running off and leaving me alone with this."
Fiyero shut the door behind him, and drew a long breath to steady his nerves. He turned to Nessa.
She lay there, so tiny and frail and skin nearly grey. She might have been a corpse if not for the occasional shiver coursing through her delicate body. He did this. His idiocy.
He pressed a hand to her forehead, and despite the shivers that made her seem chilled, her skin roared with warmth. He drew some water from the stand and wet a cloth. She twitched again, and he rolled her on her side, just to be safe. The physician had been here already from what he could see. A poultice of kudzu root scented the air with the sharp medicinal taste he associated with death now.
He crushed the poultice and replaced it atop the shivering girl's neck. She sighed, but still the quivers took their turns wracking through her body. Where were they, then, if the doctor had been here, or did they find discussing her death an impossible idea with her in the room? And Frexspar, Oz, what would that monster do with his greatest treasure lying thus?
Fiyero dragged a hand through his hair. Nessa twitched like a voodoo doll, and he watched, powerless, helpless, and fighting not to be hopeless. Another wife, and him sitting beside her deathbed, with Elphaba facing execution. If they got free, he'd make her swear never to marry him. He couldn't stand it if he killed her, too.
Nessa moaned, and he brushed back the fine hairs sticking to her forehead. She sighed. Whatever his frustrations with her, he hadn't wanted this. Never this.
A thump by the window drew his attention, and Elphaba appeared like an apparition, startling him back. His dream swam in his mind, and he blinked. No, that was really her. She tugged at the window, and he sprang to her aid. Oz, what was she doing outside?
He dragged her inside, and then, because he couldn't resist, wrapped her tightly in his arms, alive. Not poisoned. Not executed. Not falling to her death. Alive, so alive.
"How did you get here? Did anyone see you?" He pulled her back to him, last night's fears all crashing through him at once. "Oz, I thought I'd never see you again."
He bent to kiss her, but she turned. "Aruc. He's behind me. Hold on."
She half-hung herself out the window, and though he couldn't see from this angle, a thud and her swallowed cry spurred him into action. Even so, she'd tipped dangerously forward by the time he'd reached her. He slung his arms around her to help grab Aruc, who dangled precariously beyond.
Fiyero braced one arm on the sill and the other on Aruc's wrist. His skin scraped over the rough stone at the weight of his friend. Those thick muscles and thick skull didn't fall on the Elphaba side of the scale, for sure. Elphaba tightened her grip and together they yanked up as hard as they could.
Aruc's balance shifted. Fiyero's muscles screamed at the angle and resistance. His friend's hand slid an inch, and Elphaba grunted at the new position. Another half an inch. She couldn't hold him.
His stomach clenched. He couldn't let go to improve his grip without risking his friend's plummet to a very unyielding ground too far below. Oz, if he lost them all…and in a single day…
He locked both his hands tight. Aruc feet scrabbled uselessly over the stone, but finally a toe caught. They stabilized. Inch by inch, they hauled him up overhand until Fiyero could reach his shoulder. Aruc gripped the sill, and with a grunt, they dragged him through.
The inertia bowled them all to the ground in a tumble, and he lay still a moment to catch his breath. He knew what to get Aruc for Lurlinemas now – climbing lessons.
"Alright?"
"You know me," Aruc panted. "Always love to make an entrance."
Fiyero dragged himself up and offered a hand to the others. "Idiot. Be glad you didn't get yourself killed. Don't you know how to rappel?"
"Not like I had a carabiner and spikes handy."
Elphaba shoved between and knelt beside her sister. At once the room seemed to dim. "How is she?"
How could he answer that where she would not get herself killed? He set a hand on her shoulder. "There's nothing you can do for her. We've got to get you out of here to somewhere safe before anyone finds you."
He steeled himself, and sure enough, she gave the line he'd predicted. "I'm not leaving my sister."
"And I'm not letting them kill you." She glared up at him, and a wave of love and protectiveness and regret swamped him. "I should never have brought you back here."
"That's for damned sure." He spun to look at Aruc. But his friend shook his head. "I already tried to get her to leave. She won't until Nessa's okay."
Elphaba drew a shuddery breath. Her hand smoothed over Nessa's forehead, eyes darting over the girl in search of any signal. The desperation tore at him, and Fiyero knelt beside her. He smoothed a hand down her back wishing he could help. "She's so pale."
"The fever. Nothing seems to stop it."
Nessa twitched with those awful shudders, and Elphaba half-lay on the girl as if she could physically take the fever away. She pressed her forehead to her sister's, eyes closed, and Fiyero felt like an intruder at her grief. After a moment, she whispered, "We need to figure out what Three gave her."
He leapt to his feet and retrieved the paper. "That I found: akudjura, quisawood, star anise and jimuak."
"You gave her what?" Aruc snatched the paper out of his hand. "Star anise with akudjura? That's poisonous! Didn't you pay any attention in Botany?"
Fiyero narrowed his eyes at him. "Oh, shut up. You only did because you found my tutor comely."
"Are you two going to bicker or help?" Elphaba snapped, and Aruc ran a hand through his hair.
"We can do both. The greenroom has what we need, I'm pretty sure."
Elphaba smoothed her sister's hair with such poignant tenderness. "Hold on, Nessa. Just hold on." Then she stood. Time to get to work.
"Alright," Fiyero said, with a weary hand over his eyes. "I'll go first and distract the guards. Maybe they won't notice I'm not alone."
Elphaba caught his fingers. "We can't leave Nessa on her own."
Fiyero's forehead scrunched up, and he tilted his head. Of course not. Then he realized she expected him to stay. He shook his head.
She adopted her tutor tone, patient and condescending. "Aruc is the one who knows what we need."
"Exactly. You're not going."
Her scowl nearly made him roll his eyes. "I most certainly am."
"Why? So you can get captured again? 'No unnecessary risks', you promised, and yet, you're just dying to get yourself killed here."
Aruc stepped in. "Your sister needs you, not us. You're the best one to stay." He took her by the elbow and turned her back to Nessa. "Do you really want to slow us down? Think how we got here – catwalks and hiding and rappelling down walls." That shot Fiyero's blood pressure up, but it made Elphaba nod. "Fiyero and I can just walk up there and back."
She crumpled back to Nessa's side. "Hurry then."
Fiyero swiped a pouch of the dresser and emptied it of the creams inside. "Stay out of sight until you know for sure it's us. And for Ozma's sake, be careful."
She rolled her eyes, and he wanted to refuse to go. His stomach clenched at the thought of leaving her there, unprotected. His brave warrior might have no fear, but he knew better the reality of what she faced. He'd seen how merciless his father could be to protect his people, and they were out of warnings. If she was discovered, she'd be a corpse before he could blink.
Had Nessa's life not been on the line, he'd have hauled her kicking and screaming out of the palace. She could be mad, but she'd be alive. He already regretted honoring her choice to come back. Is that why no one ever gave him choices? He was too terrible at them?
No time to think of that now.
She slipped out of sight, and he led Aruc out into the sitting room. The guards startled. "Your Highness, where, um, what is he doing there?"
Fiyero lifted an authoritative eyebrow and frowned.
"I mean, apologies, Your Highness." Graying Temples bowed. "But we did not remember another visitor here. Our orders-"
"Of course Master Aruc was with me," Fiyero snapped. His heart lodged in his throat, but the two had managed far more elaborate deceptions than this. "Everyone knows his friendship for my wife. Who is dying. You thought he wouldn't bother to visit his friend's death bed?" They both winced. "So you might not want to pester me now unless you favor a reassignment to the hottest corners of the Great Desert."
They stammered their apologies, but something about Babyface Guard unsettled Fiyero. He hadn't fully believed them. They'd have to be fast.
Aruc led the way, racing up and over to the greenroom atop the East turret. He started scouring the herbs as Fiyero locked the door.
"Come help. I can't find the kho vindeca."
Fiyero set to it. At the first table, he snagged his sleeve on a thorn. He went to unhook it and the leaf sliced his finger. "Ow!" He stuffed the bleeding digit in his mouth.
Aruc looked up and laughed. "You two really are made for each other, huh?"
"Shut up," his complaint muffled by his finger. "I didn't do anything to it."
"No, Elphaba." Aruc thumbed through the herbs in a box by the window. "She managed to cut herself on the same plant. You're looking for puffy, round leaves. Kinda red capillaries."
Fiyero took the box on the far end and dutifully shifted the leaves around to find them. A scent of jasmine struck him, and he snapped his head up to yell at Elphaba for joining them. She wasn't there, only a trailing basket with drifting vines. They seemed to laugh at him.
Of course. A thousand scents were here, all competing until he felt like he almost couldn't smell anything at all.
"These here?"
Aruc came to check, and shook his head. "Nope. Dischidia. Maybe Cremnosedum."
Fiyero smirked.
"What?"
He shrugged. "Just never knew you were such a plant nerd."
Aruc rolled his eyes and shoved his shoulder on his way back to the other box. "Good thing I am, mate. I'm the one saving your wife and all."
Fiyero flipped through the next box, but without luck. A familiar scent stung him, and he almost moved on anyway, after the jasmine. But something about it tickled his memory.
He leaned in, sniffing. Aruc laughed at him. "But you make fun of me."
"Shut up," he said, half-listening. What was that? Why did it jog his memory like that? It felt important, but he couldn't place why….
"Frexspar." Fiyero stood up and called Aruc over. "What is this?"
His friend frowned at the plant. "These leaves aren't puffy at all. Did you-"
"Aruc, what is it?"
"Red mint. Why?"
Fiyero fingered the leaves absently. "This is what I smelled on Frexspar that made me think of Jinul."
"Jinul, the spicer?" Aruc shook his head. "Probably not. Jinul doesn't carry Quadling spices."
"Quadling?"
Aruc frowned. "Yeah, they drink that tea all the time. After the Drought of Akushda, the only Vinkuns that still use Quadling spices are the Yunamata. Doesn't make sense for Jinul to carry them, since his business interests are Arjiki and Scrow."
Fiyero's head throbbed at the strong scent he kept inhaling, the leaf now staining his fingers as he rubbed it. So Frexspar, Three, the Quadlings, and the Yunamata? He thought back to when he'd smelled the sharp spice on Jinul, but the Quadling ambassador had been there, too. How did the pieces fit?
"I think Frexspar might be dealing with Yunamata." Aruc lifted an eyebrow. Fiyero told him about the smell, and his father's suspicions, and the mysterious not-missing orders. "We have to find out."
"After Nessa. I've got the herb."
Fiyero shoved a handful into the pouch, and they headed back. "Okay, so you take Nessa, I'll search Frexspar's room, and then I'll get Elphaba out of here until you've presented it all to my father."
"A solid plan."
They turned the corner, and Fiyero paled.
"Your Majesty."