Elphaba didn't want to open her eyes.
If she opened her eyes, it would mean she was awake. If she was awake, she had to face reality. And right now, reality was something she desperately wanted to avoid.
So she kept her eyes closed, and she tried to block out the noises of the jail. She ignored the quiet hum of magic on the cell bars and the slight rattle of the soldiers' guns as they walked through the hall. She ignored the quiet squeak of the boots of the guard who stood closest to her, just a couple cells down. She ignored the mumblings of the other prisoners, or the scuff and rustle as they shifted around. The man in the cell across from her—a Quadling who could have once been handsome, but was now too thin and ragged to be much of anything—liked to scratch at the floor of his cell. More than once, he clawed at the ground until his fingers bled. The sight made Elphaba's skin crawl, and she was forced to screw her eyes shut and turn away. She felt sorry for the man. Apart from a few broken phrases, he spoke only in Qua'ati, which made the guards despise him even more.
She didn't know how much time had passed. There were no windows—the only light came from flickering lanterns and torches set into the wall—and she didn't bother asking. After figuring out it burned her, spitting at her had become the guards' favorite response to anything she did.
Elphaba didn't really want to know the number of days, anyway. What use was it to know? This many days she had been rotting in the jail. This many days the soldiers had dragged her from one room to another, with their fists and their clubs and their laughter that scraped against her ears.
This many days since Peric…
Elphaba shook her head and pressed her fingers to her temples. There were chains at her wrists that trailed back and bolted to the wall. They didn't restrict her movement too much as long as she sat near the wall, but they rattled obnoxiously and echoed in the quiet hallway every time she shifted around.
She didn't want to think about Peric, or Malky, or anything that had to do with the Resistance. That was the information they wanted, and she refused to give it up. Not thinking about it made it just a little easier.
Of course, she couldn't really escape it. Many of her fellow prisoners were also agents, or at least supporters. After that first night, when they had dragged her through the city, into the palace, and down seemingly endless staircases to the dungeons, many of them had recognized her.
Elphaba didn't even know why she was still conscious then. The drain of her magic, the pain throbbing through her body, even just the horror of it all should have knocked her out ages ago. But there she was, nearly all of her weight supported by the soldiers who brought her in. She watched through lidded eyes as one of them took her broom and wandered down a different hallway. They tore off her cloak—the hat had been lost on the way there, and was now probably lying in the shadows of some dark alleyway of the city—but they somehow didn't take the scarf from around her neck, maybe because it was too tattered by now to be of any use.
She had heard the metal click of a cell door being opened, and then she was shoved inside, landing roughly on the dirt and straw.
"Welcome to the palace, Witch," one of them had spat, and she didn't even have the energy to flinch away.
When the guards' heavy footsteps had faded away and all was still again, a small voice had broken through the silence.
"…Fae?"
She had crawled to the door of her cell and peered carefully through the bars. Shadows moved in the other cells, shifting into the light of the hall. There were faces she recognized, just faintly, from her days living in the underground. Others she had never seen before, but they belonged to Animals or Munchkins, all of them frail and dirty, who had lived in the lower towns and just happened to know her name.
She didn't know who had spoken. It could have been any one of them. They all looked hopeless enough to match the voice. Elphaba had ducked her head and turned away, retreating from the bars. She had failed them. She had failed everyone.
"Miss Elphaba. How lovely it is to see you again."
However many days she had been here, Morrible had only bothered her once. It was a pointless trip. Tell me what you know had been met with a string of curses that Elphaba was still a bit proud of, and that had been met with a series of threats that Elphaba didn't bother listening to. She knew how this would go.
Truth be told, for all that Elphaba had been through in and out of the palace, Madame Morrible still frightened her the most. If she was in any mood to be amused, she might find it humorous. She had wandered Munchkinland and the Emerald City by herself for weeks. She had broken into houses and businesses and the most prominent bank in the city. She had seen Dr. Dillamond, and now Peric, killed in front of her. She had nearly died herself, and she had faced an infuriated Glinda because of it. Just this past week, she had been dragged around, beaten, tortured for information—and yet, to this day, nothing terrified her more than the woman who now stood in front of her cell.
Elphaba raised her head. "I'm sorry I can't say the same, Madame." She had fallen back on her biting retorts the last few days, a habit that brought her both satisfaction and pain.
"I'm sure you can't. Are you busy? I'd love to chat for a while." Morrible held up a ring of keys and unlocked the cell door, letting herself in without waiting for an answer.
"Oh, sure, make yourself at home," Elphaba said, though she shrank back ever so slightly back against the wall. "It's not very often I get visitors."
"No? The Gale Force aren't keeping you company?"
"Well, they're around so often, I can hardly call them guests, now can I?"
"In that case, I hope this is a pleasant surprise for you."
"Not particularly," Elphaba said. "I think I prefer the guards. They're not quite as hideous to look at, you see."
There was a cough from one of the cells down the hall that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Morrible narrowed her eyes at Elphaba.
"How amusing you are, Miss Thropp."
Elphaba gave her a wry smile. "Am I still considered a Thropp? I figured I had been disowned by now."
"Renounced, yes, but not disowned. At least, not to my knowledge."
"Renounced?" Elphaba tilted her head a little.
Morrible smirked. "I'm a bit disappointed in you, my dear. I thought you would have figured it out by now."
"Well, I've been away from home for a while," Elphaba said calmly. "But I suppose you mean when the Eminent Thropp was here. I suppose she betrayed me? Told you everything she knew about me?"
"Something like that, yes."
"Well I'm not too surprised." Elphaba paused. "Is that how you knew where to find me?" It didn't seem right, but she had no other guesses as to how they were ambushed.
Morrible's grin widened, baring her teeth a little, and Elphaba couldn't help but shudder. "I can't give away all my secrets now, can I, Miss Elphaba?"
"I suppose that's fair," Elphaba said, her voice dropping, "since I'm not giving away any of mine."
Morrible's hand whipped out faster than she could follow, striking Elphaba across the cheek hard enough to snap her head to the side and make her taste blood.
"You may think you're doing well now," Morrible hissed, leaning in. "But rest assured, my dear, this is only the beginning. I will break you."
Elphaba spat at her, earning herself an immense feeling of satisfaction when she saw her blood hit Morrible's blouse.
"You always had a taste for the theatrical, didn't you, Madame?" she said. Morrible growled and grabbed the scarf around her neck, yanking Elphaba up so they were almost nose to nose.
"I don't think you understand the position you're in, Miss Elphaba. This isn't you running around the city with your little friends, and it certainly isn't your childish antics back at Shiz. It's over for you. The only reason you're still alive is because I haven't decided to kill you yet."
Elphaba sneered. "Please. I have information you want, and besides, you enjoy watching me suffer too much to kill me."
Morrible let her fall back down to the floor and raised her palm. Ice sprang to life above her hand, and she grabbed Elphaba's forearm, holding it tightly for a moment while the ice formed a ring around it. Elphaba bit her lip hard, but a loud groan still managed to escape. The ice clung to her skin, biting fiercely even before it started to melt. She breathed in sharply through her nose and lifted her head to glare at Morrible.
"You're right, I do enjoy watching you suffer." A slow, horrible grin spread across Morrible's face. "And since I do, I think I'll let you in on another little secret. Have you wondered lately how your dear Miss Glinda is doing?"
Elphaba clenched her jaw and said nothing. She wanted to roll her eyes and scoff and deny any interest, but Morrible saw right through her before she could even try. She tsked, disapproving.
"These foolish feelings for her are going to get you killed, Miss Elphaba. They are the reason you are here now, after all." Morrible smiled more as Elphaba's eyes widened. "Yes, that's the secret. Did you not know? The night that you saved her, when she was wandering around the city—that's when it happened. It was a trap, she was the bait, and after you brought her back safely to us, it was all too easy to follow you home."
"You're lying."
"Am I? Or do you just not want to admit that she betrayed you? Without her, you wouldn't be in this prison. You would still be out there wreaking havoc, I'm sure. That little Bird friend of yours might still be alive, too."
Elphaba screamed and lunged forward, her hands flickering with magic, but it was useless. Morrible gave a lazy wave of her hand even before the chains could stop her, and Elphaba was thrown back against the wall.
"Poor, poor, Miss Elphaba," Morrible simpered. She rose to her feet and left the cell, closing and locking the door behind her. "I told you I'd break you."
Not an hour later, something moved outside the bars of her cell. Elphaba looked up at the trio of guards that were unlocking the door, her hands instinctively curling to fists. Whatever they did to her, she could take it. It would be nothing compared to what Morrible had done.
She grinned as they entered, though it was little more than the baring of her teeth. Two of them held up clubs and the third carried a gun across his back, yet they all looked nervous as they approached.
"Hello, boys. I wasn't expecting more company so soon," she said casually. "What horrors do you have for me today? Fifty lashes? Hang me by my ankles? A bucket of water, perhaps?"
The guards said nothing. Elphaba held her wrists in front of her and shook them, rattling her chains loudly. "Well, let's go then. You'll have to get these off me first. Oh, don't worry, it's three against one. What's a poor girl to do?"
The Quadling across the hall wrapped his fingers around the bars of his cell and frowned at her. Elphaba ignored him. She knew she was making things worse for herself, but she didn't particularly care. Her options were either give them the information she had and be killed right away, or stay silent and be killed over time. Since she wasn't going to tell them anything, she figured she should at least have a little fun.
Of course, the moment never lasted, and as soon as the middle guard freed her wrists, one of the others swung his club, hitting her solidly in the back and sending her sprawling forward. Two of them grabbed her by the arms and dragged her out of the cell, the third trailing behind them, now holding his gun in front of himself.
They pulled her up the staircases. Elphaba was quiet now, all her energy focused on staying on her feet. It was something of a hopeless cause, especially since they pushed her back down every time she managed anything close to balance. After a while, the hallways started growing lighter, and Elphaba had to duck her head and blink hard to adjust her eyes.
It was the first time she had been brought out of the dungeons, and Elphaba couldn't help the panic building up inside her. She tried to hide her trembling as they dragged her out of the last staircase and into a polished hallway. She might have managed it, too, had a certain blonde not shown up in that moment.
She wasn't even in her line of sight yet, but Elphaba felt it. She lifted her head and looked over her shoulder. Sure enough, Glinda was there, shining in her pretty dress and perfect hair. She was talking to someone—a guard or a servant, no one too fancy—and he blushed furiously as she gave him a smile and touched his forearm.
Elphaba tensed, magic and anger and fear and pain flooding through her all at once. She was torn. She wanted to look away and pretend Glinda didn't even exist, but at the same time, she was dying to break free from the soldiers and run to her—though she didn't know what she wanted more: to hug her close or to tear her apart.
Before she could decide, a gun poked into Elphaba's back, between her shoulder blades. "Head down, Witch," growled the guard.
Glinda heard the low voice and turned. The boy she was talking to hurried off, back to his job in the kitchens, but she didn't even notice him leave. She felt the air leave her lungs, and she fell back a little, reaching out to catch herself on the wall.
Elphaba was there, not twenty feet down the hall. Three guards surrounded her—two gripping her arms, pulling her along so her feet dragged behind her, and the third following, jabbing his gun into her back. She looked awful. She was skinnier than Glinda had ever seen her, the angles of her face sharper than ever before. Her hair hung lifelessly in front of her face. Her clothes were loose and tattered, but—Glinda had to swallow a cry when she saw it—Ama Clutch's scarf still hung around her neck. There were cuts and bruises on every part of her skin that was showing, and an angry red burn formed a ring around her arm, just below the elbow.
Worst of all, though, were her eyes. They burned straight into Glinda, accusing her, hating her, making her feel all the hurt and all the torture Elphaba was feeling. Glinda opened her mouth, but a tiny choked noise was the only sound that escaped.
A hand grabbed her shoulder and suddenly Morrible was there, holding Glinda in place. Something flashed in Elphaba's eyes, something far more painful than the glare she had been giving Glinda, and she let her head fall as the guards dragged her on.
Morrible's fingers dug into her shoulder, turning her around. Wordlessly, she led Glinda in the opposite direction and pulled her into a spare room.
"A little more discretion would be wise, Miss Glinda. If the wrong people saw you like that…" Morrible trailed off, letting her threat hang in the air, but Glinda wasn't paying attention to her words. Her eyes were focused on Morrible's blouse, and the small, dark crimson stain that was there.
"What did you do to her." It wasn't a question. It was little more than a breath. The air around them began to hum with energy as Glinda felt raw power surge through her. Morrible raised her eyebrows but gave no other reaction. She simply watched Glinda, waiting to see what she would do.
Glinda curled her fingers tight and forced herself to take a breath. Morrible wanted her to lose control. She wanted her to attack. But Glinda couldn't. Not here. She couldn't give Morrible a reason to throw her in jail. Not now, when she had seen how desperately Elphaba needed her.
"What," Glinda asked, the words tight as she tried to rein in her magic, "did you do to her?"
"The same thing I would do to any difficult prisoner." Morrible's voice was low.
"You won't break her," said Glinda. "She's too strong."
"But she has her weaknesses," Morrible sneered. "And you, my dear, are one of them."
Her magic flared, heat pouring through her, but she held it in check. "What did you do?" she hissed.
"I told her the truth. I told her how she came to be in our dungeon." Morrible raised her chin, looking down on Glinda. "Didn't you see the way she looked at you? Do you really still think you can help her, when she clearly despises just the thought of you?"
Elphaba's glare still burned into Glinda's mind. She shut her eyes and tried to erase the image. Her breathing became ragged. The little lantern in the wall above them started to flicker.
"Go on," Morrible said quietly. "Do it. It's just you and I, Miss Glinda. For once, show me what you're capable of."
Glinda wanted to. She wanted to rip Morrible to shreds. She pressed her fists into her thighs, digging her knuckles into flesh.
"Prove that you're not a total disappointment," said Morrible. "We both know you want to. The question is, can you?"
She could. For the first time, as Morrible pushed her to her limits, she could push back. And oh, it was so tempting. What if Glinda could beat her? If she fought her, and ran after those guards, if she could get to Elphaba and get out of the palace in time…
Then what? They had nothing, and nowhere to go. One wrong move, and she and Elphaba would lose everything.
Glinda felt herself trembling, and she gave into it. She stumbled and fell, landing on her hands and knees. Magic pulsed through her still, but she shoved it down and let her head hang, breathing heavy.
There was triumph in Morrible's step as she came forward. She crouched to Glinda's level and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her close so she could speak in her ear, "I guess some things never change." She pushed Glinda away and straightened. "Don't worry, dear. We'll keep practicing. Tomorrow afternoon, in our usual room."
With that, Morrible turned and left the room, letting the door bang shut behind her. Glinda held her breath and counted a full minute before letting go. When she did, the magic rushed out of her, almost painful in its need to be free. The lantern blew out and was knocked from its place on the wall. The floor beneath Glinda cracked, leaving a jagged scar in the stone tile.
Tomorrow afternoon, in their usual room. After today, their session was sure to be painful, which meant it would be just her and Morrible. Glinda thought of their training room—large, mostly empty, set away from everything else—and the beginnings of a plan started to form. It was all she needed. Tomorrow afternoon, she would be ready.
Glinda was restless the next day, but she had plenty to keep her busy. She packed a large, plain bag with a few things—a couple of tightly rolled outfits, her sketchbook, the architecture book, the jar of burn cream, and Fiyero's letters. She didn't know what else to pack, except food, but she didn't think know how to sneak into the kitchens without being questioned.
An answer came in the form of Ambree, who knocked on her door around mid-morning with a tray for breakfast.
"Good morning, Miss Glinda," she said. Glinda quickly clasped the bag shut and went over to greet her.
"Good morning, Ambree," she said. "Thank you."
"Is there anything else I can get for you?" There was a light in Ambree's eyes, and Glinda thought she might be asking if Glinda had another letter to send. She smiled a little.
"No. I'm afraid my needs are rather simple today."
Ambree smiled back and curtsied a little, preparing to leave, and that's when it hit Glinda.
"Actually, wait." Glinda ran her finger along the edge of the tray. "Could you—is it possible—"
"Anything you want, Your Goodness," said Ambree. "Just say the word, and I can get it for you."
Simple needs, Glinda thought to herself. "There are two things. I've been thinking about a picnic, out on the grounds, now that the weather is getting nicer. But I'd like to be discreet—I don't need half a dozen guards following me around. Do you think it's possible to get a basket of food without anyone knowing?"
Ambree smiled sympathetically. "Of course. And the other thing?"
"Oils," said Glinda. "For my bath tonight. I feel like pampering myself."
"That sounds lovely," said Ambree. "Should I try for any particular scents?"
Glinda's answer was automatic. "Pinewood."
"Yes, Miss Glinda."
She curtsied again and left the room, and Glinda allowed herself a little smile. The morning wore on as she continued her work. She dressed in her favorite oversized, worn, cozy sweater and tied her hair at the back of her head. She put on her makeup the way she used to, the way she liked it, and when she looked in the mirror, she didn't feel like Glinda the Good, she just felt like Glinda.
It was a good feeling.
Ambree returned a little ways into the afternoon with a picnic basket. It was packed full of fruits, crackers, cheese, little cakes and cut sandwiches, and tucked into the corner, wrapped carefully in cloth, were several bottles of oil. Glinda thanked Ambree profusely, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek, and Ambree blushed and stammered her way out of the room.
Half an hour before she was to meet Morrible, Glinda shouldered her bag and left her chambers without looking back. She first went to the hallway where she had seen Elphaba the day before. She slipped into the spare room Morrible had dragged her into and was relieved to see that it had been untouched. For a moment she paused, staring numbly at the jagged crack in the floor. Then she shook herself off and tucked her bag against the wall. When that was done, she slipped back into the hall and made her way through the palace, toward the rooms where she practiced sorcery.
This part had been tricky to figure out, but it was vital to getting Elphaba out of the palace safely. She stopped outside the door of one of her instructors, hesitating for a moment before knocking softly.
Most of her training had been with Morrible, so she didn't know the rest of the palace's sorcerers well. But the man who answered the door was old and quiet, and he always seemed to have a twinkle in his eye. He beckoned Glinda inside with a grin that was far younger than his years.
"To what do I owe this pleasure, Your Goodness?" he asked. "Aren't you meeting with Madame Morrible soon?"
"I am," Glinda admitted, "But I've been wondering something, and it's a bit too delicate for Morrible's advice. I'm afraid she wouldn't like my asking questions about it, even if I am only curious."
"Curious about what, child?"
She kept her tone light. "In the papers, I've read about the Witch's broom. Now, I understand journalism isn't exactly accurate, but if there's any truth to it, I find it fascinating."
"The broom?"
"Could it really allow her to fly?" Glinda asked. "If so, how? What sort of magic was used to create it? And how could it hold up to such a powerful enchantment?"
He chuckled a little. "I suppose it is an interesting little artifact. I'd never thought about it before."
"I'd love to be able to study it," said Glinda. "But, I suppose, the Gale Force destroyed it when they captured the Witch."
"I wouldn't make any assumptions," he said, waving his finger. "No, often times, they like to bring in any special weapons of their prisoners. It's bad form to leave your enemies' projects lying loose around the city, you know."
"So, the broom is here? In the palace?"
"In the dungeons, I'd wager. They keep all the prisoners' possessions locked away, in a little side room."
Glinda thought hard. "Oh. I suppose there's no hope of studying it then."
"Why ever not?"
She smiled a little. "The dungeons are no place for someone like me. They wouldn't let me down there for anything."
"Oh, it's only about halfway down, if I remember right. It's before you get to the bottom floor with the cells, anyway. I'm sure they'd let you go down there, if you asked nicely." He winked a little. "But that's for another time. Now you probably should be going. Wouldn't want to keep that Morrible waiting, now would we?"
"No, of course not," Glinda said. Side room. Halfway down. It wasn't much, but it was enough. "Thank you, sir."
"Anytime, anytime."
Morrible was smirking when Glinda arrived. She seemed to radiate victory, even as she calmly gave Glinda a list of exercises to do.
The afternoon light flooded in through the windows on the back wall, creating odd shadows near the pillars on either side of the room. Glinda stalled throughout the lesson, working slowly through the exercises, saving her energy and biding her time. She had been worried that Morrible would lose patience with her, but she seemed content to watch Glinda muddle through.
"You seem a bit off today, Miss Glinda. Is something troubling you?"
Glinda stayed silent. Morrible was trying to get a rise out of her, but it wouldn't work. Not yet, Glinda thought, glancing up at the windows.
Still, every time Morrible said something, she let it fuel her. She tucked the anger aside for later, when she would need it, and she kept working.
The light outside turned gold, then pink, then began to fade altogether. Morrible walked around the room, waving her fingers at the lanterns to light them. Glinda lowered her hands, gently setting the table she had been levitating on the ground.
"Did I tell you to stop?"
Glinda took a deep breath, gathering her courage. How long had she been terrified of this woman? She closed her eyes as Morrible walked toward her.
"Miss Glinda—"
Glinda opened her eyes and threw her arms out. The wave of energy hit Morrible, but she planted her feet and raised her hands against it, and she was only sent back a foot or two.
"Really, my dear?" she asked. Glinda clenched her jaw and glanced over at the door. It swung shut with a firm, echoing thud. Morrible raised her eyebrows. "Well. If you insist."
She sent a blast of ice at Glinda, who dove out of the way, rolling smoothly to her feet. Glinda summoned her flames and threw it at Morrible, but the headmistress deflected them with a flick of her wrist. She grinned smugly, raising her hands, and Glinda heard crackling as the hair on her neck stood on end.
Glinda reached for the table she was levitating earlier. It flew toward her as Morrible sent the lightning at her. The spell hit the table, which promptly cracked, flickering with flames. With a yell, Glinda pushed her arms out, sending it flying at Morrible.
Morrible caught it, but she stumbled back a few steps with the force of it. Her eyes narrowed and she tossed the burning furniture across the room. She held her hands in front of her, claw-like, and summoned her own flames. They flared brightly, flickering gruesome shadows across Morrible's face. Her eyes met Glinda's, and the blonde swallowed as Morrible threw the spell at her. Glinda raised her arms just in time, and Morrible's fire hit a wall of air, never touching her. But Morrible kept pushing, and the spell hovered between them, trembling.
"My dear Miss Glinda," Morrible said calmly. "If you think you can win against me, you are sadly mistaken."
Gritting her teeth, Glinda summoned her energy and pushed back. The flames fell back a few feet, but then Morrible growled and flexed her fingers, and Glinda felt herself stumble, barely keeping her shield up. The fire grew hotter between them. Glinda's arms started to shake and her breath grew shallow.
Suddenly she was back in the sorcery classroom, being taunted, tormented, told she wasn't good enough. Morrible was pushing her, tearing her down, pulling her apart so that Glinda could be put back together just the way she wanted her to be. From her very first day at Shiz, Morrible had been against her, and Glinda had never won.
Not this time.
With a cry, Glinda thrust her arms forward. The flames flared bright pink and flew away from her, straight toward Morrible. Glinda saw the shock cross her face, and then she was gone, crashing back into the wall.
The fire disappeared, though the heat lingered. Glinda crept forward, her hands still up in front of her. Morrible was slumped against the stone, breathing heavily.
"Foolish little brat. You can't save her. But if you had kept your head down and done what we told you, you could have saved yourself. You should have saved yourself." Morrible shook her head, looking at her with disgust. "Instead you're dooming yourself, and for what? A girl who doesn't even care about you anymore."
Glinda's fists clenched as a tremor ran through her. Morrible was lying. She was trying to manipulate her, control her to get what she wanted.
She thought of all the times she had lost control in Morrible's classroom, or around Shiz, or even here in the palace. She thought of all the times she had hurt someone in a burst of rage or despair. She thought of the strength and focus she had found these last few weeks. She looked at Morrible, then up at the pillar closest to them.
Her hand wasn't shaking when she raised it. When she summoned her magic, it didn't hum beneath her skin, yearning to break loose. Instead, it flowed steadily through her, completely in her command.
The stone cracked and groaned, tilting dangerously. Morrible's eyes widened, but Glinda thrust her other hand forward, pinning her in place as the pillar fell.
Morrible shrieked, even as the sound of the crash faded, and Glinda let out a tiny breath, suddenly filled with a sense of finality. She stepped closer and leaned over to look Morrible in the eye.
"I want you to know, Madame, that your greatest mistake was teaching me." Glinda's voice was low, deeper than normal, and far more dangerous. "You tore me apart. You forced me to continue sorcery, and then you pushed me beyond what any student should ever have to learn. You trained me, so I could take this job and do whatever you wanted. And that—" Glinda stood tall and gestured to herself, "—this, is your downfall."
"You can't help her," Morrible snarled. Outside, they heard heavy footsteps running down the hall, getting louder. Morrible pushed uselessly against the pillar that was pinning her down, then gasped in pain, falling still again. "Even if you reach her, she despises you. You'll fail, and you'll be thrown in there to rot alongside her."
"You're wrong. You always did underestimate me." Glinda turned to face the doorway and called out, "Guards! Someone, hurry!"
Three Gale Force soldiers appeared through the doors, rushing toward them. Glinda stumbled back, hugging her waist.
"S-someone attacked her," she said shakily. "They disappeared before I could see who it was. I-I-I can't lift the pillar, please, you have to help—"
One of the soldiers grabbed her shoulder gently, pulling her further away from Morrible. "It's okay, Your Goodness. We're here; you're safe now. Are you sure you didn't see who it was?"
"They were dressed in black, and their hood was up," Glinda said. She grabbed his wrist. "She was thrown against the wall, and then the pillar fell. I think she might have hit her head. She was incoherent when I tried to talk to her. Is she going to be alright? Is she—?"
"We'll take care of it," he said. "But you might not be safe here. Let me escort you back to your chambers."
Glinda nodded, but then looked at Morrible. "N-no, stay with her."
"Your Goodness—"
"Help her. Please."
He hesitated, but then let go of her. "Yes, Your Goodness. Don't worry. We'll take care of her."
"I'll send more guards your way. We need to get her out from under there."
The other soldiers nodded, already pulling away pieces of the stone. Morrible was cursing and snapping at them, screaming for them to arrest Glinda, but they paid her no mind. As Glinda backed away from them all, her eyes locked with Morrible's. She tilted her head up, staring down at her for a long moment.
Then she turned on her heel and hurried out, heading not up to her room, but down, far beneath the palace.