The next day, Zuko tried to avoid as many people as possible. Dodging Katara and Sokka was almost too easy, as an impromptu guard had been set on the pair in anticipation of the next landing. Katara, every time they made eye contact, shot him a questioning look, but Zuko just turned his head as he continued past her.
Lu Ten was also easy to avoid, as there was certainly another mission to this transport quest they had been set on. His cousin was often in animated conversation with the mysterious third figure from the night before, who would smile at Zuko as they crossed paths.
Zuko tried to get his facts straight.
His mother was alive, but had done something that made her untrustworthy to parts of the guard. In his time, his father had made allusions to some traitorous plot Ursa had enacted, one large enough to warrant the awful end that she met. But nothing had ever been spoken plainly, and Zuko wasn't even certain if it was the same event being played out.
As for the wedding, Zuko was far from concerned. He remembered the nights when Sokka and Aang would talk about the North Pole, as they shifted the emotional strain from the horrific events to how Zuko had gotten beaten by Katara in a fight. Princess Yue had been betrothed, and a political wedding was certainly a place for diplomatic pandering. Still, he wondered why Lu Ten had talked about his safety, and why it was important that his mother would be there.
Whenever his thoughts drifted to his mother, about seeing her again, he felt an ache in his chest. He had missed her and had been desperate to know what had happened to her. In a matter of weeks, he would see her again.
But she would not be his mother.
This was not his world.
Setting his shoulders, Zuko resigned himself to one plan. He needed more information, that much was clear. All of the machinations already in motion would be meaningless to him if he didn't know who he was supposed to be or what had been happening.
After training with Piandao as a child, and from his own love of the theater, Zuko had mastered the art of stealth fairly early on. It was a benefit when he was trying to sneak around his father's notice, or away from his sister and her friends. Spying wasn't in his nature, but reconnaissance was important. Idle conversation could more often than not lead to promising finds.
Returning to his room, Zuko thought of a plan as he dressed in something more subdued and easier to move in than his royal garb. It was difficult, as most of it was either for hard travel or official meetings. Reaching toward the bottom of his trunk, he finally managed to pull out a training uniform; sleeveless but the pants were black and more fitted.
The fearful excitement gave him a jolt of adrenaline and as Zuko moved out into the hall, he jumped against the far wall to twist and grab an overhead pipe.
As his back refused to twist enough, his fingers missed the pipe by a foot and he slammed onto the hard metal floor.
The rush of blood in his ears was so loud, he could hear nothing else. The fall had hurt, and he had surely bruised his side, but that wasn't what knocked the breath out of him.
This was not his body.