Glinda had the next day to herself. She spent the entire morning in bed, her sketchbook in her lap, drawing aimlessly. Someone had knocked on her door with breakfast, but after taking the tray she had asked, as politely as possible, to be left alone for the day. No one had disturbed her since.
For the first time since arriving in the city, she let herself enjoy the palace's luxuries. She drew a bath around noon and spent well over an hour in it, trying out different soaps and oils that filled the cabinets. When the water cooled, she drained the tub and refilled it, this time washing off the palace's products and putting on her own until she smelled like herself again.
She grew restless in the afternoon and decided to go for a walk around the palace. It was still a maze of corridors and staircases, and she knew that she hadn't even seen most of it, but she was beginning to learn her way around. She could get from her room to the dining hall where she usually met Morrible, she knew the way from the dining hall to the large, open sorcery rooms on the third floor, and she knew how to get to the entrance hall from all of those places. Not that it mattered, of course. She only needed to ask, and half the servants in the palace would come running to help her get where she needed to be.
Today, though, she didn't care about getting lost. She wandered aimlessly down the halls, and whenever she came to the end of one, she chose the way that seemed to have the least amount of people.
This was how she ended up in a narrow, richly decorated hall, pausing as she heard voices through a slightly open door.
"I came here to make peace," she heard Nessarose say. Glinda held her breath and looked around, but the corridor was empty. Carefully, she took a crept closer.
"Yet you start a revolution against me," the Wizard said. Glinda heard the soft squeak of wheels. So Nessa was in her chair. Maybe she hadn't quite mastered walking—or maybe she didn't want anyone to know that she had.
"It's not a revolution," said Nessa. "We don't want war. Just our freedom." Her voice was steady. She wasn't about to yield.
Apparently the Wizard knew that. Glinda heard him sigh, then the sound of a chair being pulled out. "Then at least we can agree on one thing," he said. "But you have to understand, Miss Thropp, I can't just let you divide Oz however you please."
"Perhaps you should have thought of that before you started stripping our rights," Nessa said coldly. It was a dangerous response, and Glinda tensed, but the Wizard merely sighed again.
"This isn't the time to bicker about what has been done, Miss Thropp. Now we must focus on what will be done."
"Munchkinland will separate from Oz," Nessarose said. "Whether that process is peaceful or not is up to you."
The Wizard was quiet. Glinda pressed her lips together and furrowed her brow. She didn't understand how such an average-looking man could be the leader of Oz. There was nothing special about him. He looked like he could be one of her father's friends, or a professor at Shiz. She remembered Elphie telling her once that she suspected the Wizard had no real power. Glinda believed it. Yet, somehow, he was still frightening. Even now, with all his sighs and his tired voice, he had to be up to something.
"You remember meeting Miss Upland yesterday, yes?" he said eventually. Glinda froze, blinking.
Nessa was just as confused. "Y-yes?" Her voice wavered, part of the stubborn demeanor fading.
"I believe you two have been put in similar situations. She was…ah, hesitant, at first, to leave Shiz and take this job. But my associate at the school worked with her. Eventually we found a solution that worked for everyone. Perhaps you and I can make a deal as well."
"What kind of deal?" Nessa sounded wary—rightfully so, thought Glinda. She'd been given threats, not deals. What was the Wizard plotting?
"Munchkinland is its own nation," the Wizard said. "We draw up the peace treaty and sign it now, while you're still in the city. We restore trade and travel between our countries, and everyone is happy."
There was a pause. "The Munchkinlanders who live in Oz?" Nessa asked.
"Oh, there will be some sort of process or paperwork that we'll come up with." The Wizard sounded bored. "Of course, I can't control the prejudices that already exist between our people, but legally, they will be treated as honored guests of Oz.
Sure, thought Glinda. She had a feeling those prejudices would turn into Gale Force violence the moment Nessarose was out of the city. She thought, sadly, of Boq. But had there ever been hope for him?
Nessa was silent. Finally, she asked, "What's the catch? What do you want from me?"
The Wizard's words were heavy. "You help us find Elphaba."
Glinda pressed her hand to her mouth, stumbling back. Her ears were ringing, but somehow she still heard Nessarose's response. It was agreement.
She backed silently away until she was out of earshot. Then she screwed her eyes shut, turned, and ran.
Elphaba ducked into an alley, Malky at her heels. Peric hopped down from the rooftop and landed neatly beside them.
"Fae, check it out," he said, craning his neck to nod across the street. She followed his gaze to a small newspaper stand and fought to keep her face blank.
"What's the headline this time?" she asked, dully. "Good witch or bad witch?"
"Your sister," said Malky, tilting his head. Elphaba blinked at that, but he was already halfway across the street. He hopped to the top of the stand and grabbed one of the rolled up papers, then returned to them in the alley.
Elphaba took the paper from him and unrolled it. Peric shifted a little and looked around them, but they were in a dirtier part of town, and it was abandoned for the night.
"She's in the city," Elphaba whispered, scanning the paper. "They're negotiating the secession."
"Negotiating?" Peric asked, a touch of bitterness in his voice.
"Actually, yes." Elphaba turned the paper toward him and pointed at a quote, reading aloud, "'Details of the meetings are confidential, but an inside source tells us that treaties are being finalized and the separation of Munchkinland will be peaceful.'"
Malky lowered his head. "What kind of deals did the Eminent have to make to manage that?"
"I don't…" Elphaba paused. She did know. What did Nessarose have that the Wizard wanted? "Me."
Peric shifted his wings. "You think she sold you out?"
"As much as she could." Elphaba sighed and rolled up the paper again. "Thankfully, that isn't much. Come on. We should get this back to the Resistance. I don't care what the Wizard promises—the minute Nessa leaves the city, all hell is going to break loose for the Munchkinlanders."
Malky flicked his tail. "We should all go back to the underground. They're going to want to hear everything you know, Fae."
Elphaba simply nodded, ignoring the surprised look Peric gave her.
Peric and Elphaba returned to the corn exchange a few hours before dawn. Malky had stayed behind, probably to get some actual information, since they'd been given nothing. Elphaba had been questioned about Nessarose, and she calmly told them everything she knew about the secession and Munchkinland's plans. Throughout it all, she stayed quiet until they asked her something. She didn't protest or interrupt like she normally would have. She didn't ask her own questions or demand explanations. She supposed she just didn't have the energy for it. Peric had watched her, that surprised look never leaving his eyes. Even now, as they slipped into the building, he continued studying her.
"Yes?" she asked, moving over to her bed and setting her things down.
"You're…quiet."
"Are you complaining?" She smirked slightly, but Peric's eyes hardened a little, unamused.
"You're never quiet."
"That's not true."
He huffed and fluttered his wings. "When you first got here I couldn't get you to stop asking questions. But now, back there, you never said a word."
"Yeah, well." Elphaba rubbed the back of her neck. "I guess I've learned."
"It's not like you," Peric grumbled.
She sighed. "We have our job to do, right? I'm just trying to get it done."
Peric looked like he was going to protest, and Elphaba resisted the urge to shift around. This was heading into dangerous territory, and she really didn't want to deal with it. But, luckily, she was saved, for at that moment Malky appeared in the window and started making his way down toward them.
"What's the news?" Elphaba asked. Then she turned toward Peric. "See? That was a question." He snapped his beak at her.
Malky looked between them for a moment. "We're working on getting Munchkinlanders safely out of the city."
"They're all evacuating?" Peric asked.
"Other places in Gillikin might be safe for a while," said Elphaba. "But the city won't be. They want to get out before everything is finalized."
"Yes," said Malky. "And not all of them are leaving. Safe houses are going to be set up in the lower districts. Some don't have homes back in Munchkinland, and others just don't want to leave the city."
"Could the Eminent have hired some of them?" Peric asked. "She would want eyes and ears still in the city, right?"
They both looked at Elphaba, who shrugged, realizing that she honestly had no idea what Nessa would do.
"More importantly—for us, anyway," Malky continued, "is the flood of new recruits we've gotten recently."
Elphaba smirked. "Munchkins?"
"Many of them, yes. It would appear that the Wizard is continuing to make enemies."
"No surprise there," Elphaba muttered. But then, he was also making allies, wasn't he?
She wasn't really concerned about Nessa selling her out—for she was sure that was what had happened. What information did she have that the Wizard didn't already know? None, and any trick they tried would be pointless. Maybe Nessarose knew that. But Elphaba was still offended that she had been used as a bargaining tool. Nessa had given her up in exchange for Munchkinland. Father would be so proud.
She supposed she shouldn't be so surprised. Besides, this wasn't the betrayal that hurt.
It doesn't matter, she told herself. She shook her head a little and focused once more on the conversation with Peric and Malky. As far as she was concerned, Glinda the Good was just a silly puppet. She meant little to Elphaba.
Malky was talking about their job for the next night, and Elphaba put all of her attention toward that. She had chosen this life, and Glinda had chosen hers. That's all there was to it.
Glinda sat on her bed and swung her legs back and forth so her feet hit the baseboard. Her fingers twisted together in her lap and she furrowed her brow before smoothing them out again.
It was her fault. Despite her age, Nessarose was more than capable of being the Eminent. She was doing everything she could for her people, and she was holding her own against the Wizard—until, of course, Glinda had been mentioned.
If she hadn't done what Morrible told her to, if she hadn't gone in and been kind to Nessa, would things have gone differently? Nessarose hadn't been out of her wheelchair in public, but Glinda's work had clearly impacted her. And because of Glinda, her resolve against the Wizard had wavered.
Glinda hadn't been thinking of the Wizard when she enchanted the shoes, or of Morrible, or even of Munchkinland and the secession. She had only wanted to help Nessa, the way she could never help Elphie. But in the end, she had only hurt Elphaba. And for what?
The other day, Glinda had worked up the courage to ask Morrible about the negotiations. She had been distracted during her sorcery session, and Morrible had gotten fed up enough to actually answer her questions.
"Why would the Wizard give up Munchkinland so easily?" she had asked. "Oz is still dependent on them for agriculture."
"Trade is still open between the countries," Morrible told her, hardly paying attention.
"Isn't that risky, though? If we're dependent on their exports, doesn't that give them an advantage?"
"What does it matter?" Morrible had snapped, waving her hand. "Let them have their new nation. The Wizard will conquer it again soon enough."
It was what Glinda had expected, but her heart still sank at hearing it. She sighed angrily, pushing off from her bed. She had come here to help, and look at all the good she was doing. Because of her, Elphaba could get hurt, and Nessa would be gaining nothing.
Without really thinking, Glinda walked quickly out of the room and down to the first floor. Her feet were bare against the chilly stone floor, but she ignored it.
It was late evening, meaning Nessarose would probably be in her room. The negotiations were moving along remarkably fast, and most of her time was spent in meetings with the Wizard and his politicians, but she always spent her nights alone, eating dinner in her chambers.
Glinda only paused for a moment before knocking on the door. She knew she wasn't supposed to know anything about the negotiations, but…
"Enter," Nessa said, once again in that strangely mature voice, and Glinda wondered vaguely who she had picked it up from. She slipped inside, and Nessa relaxed just slightly when she saw her. "Miss Glinda."
"You betrayed Elphie." The words weren't supposed to come out. Glinda pressed her lips together and looked down, a little ashamed.
Nessa took her time to respond. Glinda glanced up, watching the emotions flash ever so briefly across her guarded face. Finally, all she settled on was, "…Elphie?"
Glinda felt herself flush. "Elphaba. You—"
"I did what I had to. I'm here as the Eminent Thropp, not Elphaba's sister. My priority is to Munchkinland."
"You think it'll be that easy? The Wizard isn't going to let Munchkinland go, just like that. He's using you, and once you think you're secure, he'll—"
"Double cross me? Attack Munchkinland? Murder my people? Yes, I know." Nessa folded her arms over her chest and scowled. "I may be young, but I'm no fool, Miss Glinda."
"I didn't say you were, I just—"
"Maybe I sold my sister out, but she abandoned me long ago."
"She has always done what she could to protect you," Glinda said heatedly.
"Don't pretend to know our relationship." Nessa's voice was cold. "Besides, don't you think you're being hypocritical? Can you really accuse me of betraying Elphaba, when you're sitting here working for the very people she's trying to bring down?"
Glinda winced. "It's not like I had much of a choice," she said, trying to hold her ground.
"Did you? Or is that just what you tell yourself when you feel guilty?"
Glinda said nothing. It was a mistake to come here, to confront Nessa. It was all her fault, anyway. She hugged her elbows and looked at the ground, beginning to turn away. She was almost out of the room when Nessa spoke again, her tone formal, yet far softer than before.
"I don't expect I'll see you again before I leave—at least, not where we can speak freely—so I'll thank you now, once again, for the shoes. And…" Nessa paused, waiting for Glinda to look up before she went on. "I wouldn't worry too much about my sister. I don't know enough to give the Wizard much information, and she'll know better than to trust anything I'm involved in. Of all the people in this palace, we're not the ones that can hurt her."
There was an accusation there, but Glinda chose to ignore it. She nodded and left, heading straight for her chambers, where she stayed for the rest of the night.
Nessarose was right; they didn't see each other again until a few days later, when the same crowd that had welcomed Nessa gathered to send her off. It was less formal this time, and most of them just shook hands with the young Eminent and wished her well. Glinda took a couple small steps away from Morrible when Nessa approached her. She was in the chair, but the jeweled shoes glittered on her feet.
Nessa held her hand out to Glinda, who took it, then bent forward to kiss her lightly, formally, on the cheek.
"Good luck, Nessa," she whispered, quiet enough that only the two of them heard. "You'll need it."
Nessarose studied her for a long moment as she straightened. Finally, she squeezed Glinda's hand and let go, murmuring, "You, too."
The Wizard came by and led Nessarose out the front door. Most of the farewell party dispersed, but Glinda slipped outside to watch the carriages leave.
A handful of Munchkins were moving about, loading bags and checking the horses. Nessa wheeled herself next to the cab, then turned as the Wizard said something and shook her hand one last time.
Two Munchkins approached Nessa, probably to help lift her into the carriage, but she waved them off. She wheeled back a little, gave the Wizard one last look, then pushed herself to her feet.
The Wizard nearly fell back a step, but Nessarose turned away from him and climbed into the carriage. The Munchkins stood dumbfounded for a moment, then quickly packed up her chair and hopped in themselves. The driver clicked his reins, and then they were off.
Glinda ducked back inside before the Wizard could completely shake off the shock. Two Gale Force officers were still in the entrance hall, chatting casually, and they lit up when they saw her. Glinda curtsied and giggled and made small talk for a moment before excusing herself.
Back at her room, she toed off her shoes and flopped onto the bed, grinning up at the ceiling. She still felt confused, overwhelmed, guilty, but Nessarose's display—the look of complete shock on the Wizard's face—almost made it worth it.
After Nessa left, Glinda was surprised to find herself settling back into a routine. At the beginning of each week, she would have breakfast with Morrible, who would go over her schedule for the upcoming days. Most days were spent training, usually with Morrible. Some days, she went out to the city, meeting people and waving at crowds. Sometimes, they would dress her up in glittering ball gowns with giant skirts and she would go put on her brightest smile as she shook the hands of a dozen bankers after setting up a charity fund. She hated those times, but other times, when she put on something simpler and went to visit an orphanage, or bring firewood or food to a shelter—those times, she actually felt like she was doing good.
"Miss Glinda, would you like to pay attention?"
Glinda resisted the urge to say no and looked up at Morrible, who studied her with indifference.
"Would you like to tell me why you're so distracted today?"
"I'm tired," Glinda mumbled.
"Yes, you're always tired. That's what I'm trying to fix."
"By fighting me?" They had been dueling all morning, throwing spells back and forth until someone—always Glinda—messed up and was knocked back.
"By making you stronger," said Morrible. "Fighting you is just a perk. Shall we?"
Glinda scowled, but she bent her knees a little and held her hands up, summoning her fire in one palm. The flames were darker again—a darker shade than ever, in fact—but she didn't take the time to notice. Morrible waved her arm and sent a wave of energy at her, and Glinda jumped to the side, throwing the flames toward her.
They went back and forth, Glinda breathing hard and Morrible eerily calm—bored, almost. Morrible sent a bout of ice toward her, and Glinda melted it before it could hit her. Glinda thrust her arms out and sent a burst of wind, but Morrible flicked her wrist and it disappeared. On and on it went, until Morrible curled her fingers, summoning a strange, crackling sound, and threw a stream of lightning at Glinda.
She yelped and rolled to the side, narrowly dodging the attack. Anger pulsed through Glinda as she felt her hair stand on end. A lightning spell? She had never learned a lightning spell, never learned to counter it. Morrible was pushing her, trying to knock her down, trying to break her. With a cry, Glinda summoned her fire and thrust both arms out.
The flames poured toward Morrible, but she raised her hands and pushed back. The spell changed direction, flying at Glinda instead, and she was forced back, landing hard against the wall.
Glinda slumped, the fire biting at her arms before flickering out. Her head throbbed and her skin burned, and across the room Morrible stood watching her, expressionless. Glinda tried to sit up and had to bite back a whimper. Every session seemed to go like this. Morrible pushed and Glinda got pummeled, and unlike at Shiz, at the end of it all, there was nowhere to run to. Morrible had complete control of her, every hour of every day, and Glinda could do nothing but take it.
Or, she could fight back.
Morrible walked over and grabbed her arm, pulling her roughly to her feet. "Again," she said, all too calmly, and walked back to her place.
Glinda took a deep breath and straightened her dress. There was nowhere to run, but there was also no one else to get hurt.
When Morrible sent the first spell at her, she was almost too slow to block it. But she did, and she sent a blast of ice in return. This time around, she found a focus that hadn't been there before. She was exhausted, she was a little slow, but she was steady.
Glinda was growing stronger. That much was clear from their sessions. She could even see it in Morrible's gaze, every once in a while. A month ago, she would have been unconscious by now. Even a year ago, when her magic was at its best, she hadn't had this kind of endurance. They'd been at it for hours, and she was still standing, still countering Morrible's spells and throwing them back.
She lasted a few minutes before Morrible hit her with a blast of ice, but this time, Glinda managed to stay on her feet. She shivered, feeling the cold flood through her before fading again. Morrible lowered her arms.
"You are improving, Miss Glinda. Though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. It takes a lot of talent to pull off the enchantment you did the other day."
Glinda tensed. "I…"
"You were sentimental, perhaps. Or you did your job too well." Morrible shrugged. "Either way, it's no matter now. So the brat can walk. That changes nothing."
Glinda winced, but Morrible didn't seem to notice. She went on, "Anyway, my point is, you are displaying a focus I haven't seen from you in a year—maybe ever. It seems that getting away from your life at Shiz has done you well."
She wanted to protest—Oz, she wanted to protest—but Morrible turned and left, barely looking over her shoulder to say, "We're done for the day," and it was all Glinda could do to stay on her feet.
Best of all were the days when Glinda had time to herself.
Sometimes she took walks around the palace, or she bundled up and walked around the grounds—though they wouldn't let her out without an escort. Other times, though, she simply stayed in her room.
This time, late one evening, she was sprawled across the bed on her stomach, her sketchbook in front of her. It was the only thing that kept her sane sometimes. If she shut the door and focused on her work, then she could almost pretend she was back at Shiz, sprawled across Elphaba's bed, or the floor of the lounge in the boys' library.
She was drawing a chapel. The Emerald City wasn't as dazzling as Glinda had once imagined it to be, but one thing that did catch her eye was the architecture. Most of the religious buildings were centuries old, and had rarely been renovated.
A knock on the door surprised her, and a servant peeked inside. "Your Goodness?"
"If you don't have a soul, then tell me, what do I have that you don't?"
"Your goodness."
Glinda blinked away the memory and tried not to wince at the words. The title had started in the city, but it was quickly spreading among the palace staff. She was still getting used to it. Every time someone said the words, she was reminded of that conversation back in her dorm room at Shiz, when she was trying to convince Elphaba that she did indeed have a soul. I'm not as good a person as you think I am. But more importantly, you are not nearly as wicked as anyone—including yourself—believes you are.
It was eerie, how the words still rang true.
"Your Goodness?" the servant girl asked again. "You haven't eaten all day. We were getting worried." Her eyes swept over Glinda then, taking her in—stretched lazily across the bed, her hair tied back into a messy knot, no makeup or jewelry, wearing her old, worn sweater. "I-I apologize," she stammered. "I can come back later."
"No, no, it's fine. Please, come in." Glinda pushed herself up and sat with her legs crossed. "I'm sorry. I meant to come down for dinner, but I lost track of time."
The servant entered, carrying a tray to her bedside table. Glinda smiled at her, but she was distracted, her eyes darting back down to her sketchbook.
"Did you draw those?" the girl asked. She immediately blushed as Glinda looked up. "I mean—I'm sorry, I shouldn't be looking. I'll—"
Glinda cut her off with a smile. "It's okay, really." She turned the page toward her. "I've been inspired by some of the Unionist chapels in the middle districts. What do you think?"
"It's gorgeous," said the girl. Glinda studied her for a moment. They couldn't have been more than a couple years apart.
"What's your name?"
"Ambree, Your Goodness."
"Well, Ambree, that's very sweet of you. But if I wasn't Glinda the Good? What would you think, then?"
Ambree glanced up at her with a soft smile, then looked back down at the drawing. "It's clearly inspired by the city's chapels, and it's gorgeous, but I think it could be improved."
"Oh?"
"Not the drawing itself," she said quickly. "But the chapels." She pointed at the sketch of the sanctuary. "There are so many statues and icons on the main floor, it's so crowded, and people are afraid to move for fear they'll break something. Especially the elderly, or someone with children. And the balconies have the greatest view, but to get to them you have to go further into the chapel, and…"
"And the poor or non-Gillikinese aren't usually allowed past the sanctuary," Glinda said. She nodded a little and took her eraser to part of the floor plan. "You're right. This could be more open. Wider entrances, maybe. And larger windows, to let in the light. They call them sanctuaries but design them like tombs." She turned the page and sketched out a quick outline, jotting some notes down beside it. "And you're absolutely correct, it's designed for separation. It's so…elitist. Maybe if…" She drew a few arrows, moving things around, and jotted down more notes.
Ambree watched her, slowly sinking onto the bed. "You have quite the talent," she said.
Glinda smiled, hoping it didn't look as sad as she thought it might. "I considered studying architecture, for a while," she said quietly.
Ambree tapped the page lightly. "The city would have been in better hands, had you designed it," she said. Glinda blushed a little. Ambree looked down at herself and quickly stood. "I should go. I'm still needed in the kitchens. I—I should—"
She curtsied a little, but Glinda caught her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, calming her. "Thank you, Ambree."
Ambree smiled, small but genuine, then hurried out of the room. Glinda watched her go for a moment before turning back to the drawing.
"If you set the altar further back into the wall," she mumbled to herself, pressing her pencil to the paper, "And put in benches along the sides, make it more accessible…"