Chapter 4
Elphaba would have to get used to asking the staff for things. She stood dumbly in front of the chestnut-haired girl with messy braids, the girl for her part waited patiently for Elphaba to find her words. She smoothed out the pleats of her dark blue pinafore skirt and apron while she waited.
Elphaba had called for someone via the bell, she remembered this part from their last stay in Kiamo Ko and found it quite exciting. A bell sat in every royal room of the castle, connected to a network of bells in the servants quarters, where a corresponding bell would ring to let the staff know what room was calling for assistance. It was a brilliant design, she couldn't help but note that the engineering was years ahead of other Ozian comforts of the same type. The Emerald City's nicest homes wouldn't see similar systems till maybe 50 or 60 years after they had been perfected in the Vinkus. She had been reading quite a lot on the subject lately.
"Do you have a garden?" Elphaba finally found a way to ask her question as she shook the thought of the intricate and old bell system of the castle from her mind, fascinating as it was.
The girl looked confused, "There are plenty of walking gardens-"
"No," Elphaba shook her head, "Like an herb garden, do you grow fresh herbs?"
"Oh!" The girl caught on, "I manage the kitchen garden! We have more lemon balm than I know what to do with."
"Cinnamon? Nettle?" Elphaba asked.
The girl thought for a moment, "Cinnamon, I have. Nettle, maybe. We didn't grow it this year but I should have some dry in the cabinets."
Elphaba nodded, "Bring me some boiling water, some teacups, the cinnamon and the nettle if you have it." She pondered for a moment and added, "Do you recommend the lemon balm?"
The girl beamed, "It's my favorite!"
"Then I'll take some of that too."
The girl trotted away and Elphaba closed the door. She turned to where Fiyero lay on the bed. She planted herself next to him and met his eyes as she laid on the pillow, "Tea is on the way."
"If it's lemon balm, it won't taste as good as the ones from our garden." He warned. He had reached a level of exhaustion in his crying fit and rolled his eyes at himself with a bitter expression, like he found it ridiculous that he had any feelings at all. Like it was something to be ashamed of.
"What a miserable start to the adventure." He offered up, "I'm already back in the madhouse."
"Can I ask a question that I already know is ridiculous?"
Fiyero's brow furrowed, "Of course."
In the tender safety of each other's arms, they found an honestly they couldn't have with anyone else. Elphaba grew weepy as she said it, like it came from somewhere within her that she had a hard time exploring, "You know that I would never use magic to change you, right?"
He melted for her, "Oh Fae." Their arms wound around each other and they pulled in close, he cupped her cheek with his hand, "I trust you entirely. And I love you, I know that's not a spell."
"I told you it was ridiculous." She lamented.
"I'll never forgive Nor." Fiyero said, and he meant it.
She shrugged, "I'm predisposed to being disliked."
"Plenty of people like you."
"And we left them all back home, with the cats."
"The cats, who also like you."
"Because I feed them."
"I won't let my family speak to you that way." Fiyero said, and he meant that too.
"You can't spar with your brother like that again," She said, "Kings should be especially mindful of where they throw their fists."
"Which philosopher is that from?" He asked, she had been pouring over books on monarchies, especially the ones filled with the opinions of the people being ruled. She was full of sobering quips lately.
"That's from Elphaba Tiggular, the wisest advisor to King Fiyero, the great. They say she saved her brother-in-law from a painful death with her perspicacious sensibilities. You'll have to take a higher road than he takes, you're the one with the power."
"How are you so calm about this? You should be furious."
"I am furious," She shrugged again, "I don't enjoy what they call me, but we've known about it for quite some time. It feels sort of like Shiz did, with everyone whispering behind my back. I guess I've just grown used to it, I have a thicker skin about that sort of thing." She shook her head to emphasize her point, "So you don't have to worry about me, or how it makes me feel."
Fiyero wasn't satisfied with that, "You're doing that thing again."
"A thing?"
"Yes, you do this thing; you decide that there is no room for your emotions, or you act like they don't matter. You shut yourself down."
"I do not." She sat up in the bed, "I just have thick skin. This isn't even about me."
There was a gentle knock at the door, the girl with the chestnut hair had returned with their tea. She launched herself up and away from her husband's perception. She opened the door and caught the girl as she tried to enter and place the tray down. Elphaba took the tray in her own arms and insisted that there was no need for all that. She thanked the girl profusely and sent her on her way, closing the door behind her with her foot.
She shrugged at Fiyero, "I still don't like the idea of being served. Forgot to ask her name, I'll be sure to introduce myself properly the next time she's around."
She set the tray down at the table, he moved to join her in the armchairs. She opened a covered bowl and smiled, there was dried nettle and cinnamon. Spilling out from its own bowl was an abundance of freshly picked and washed lemon balm. The teapot was hot, the girl must have rushed it up here to make sure it would still be boiling. Elphaba was grateful, but she missed her kitchen, her own teapot, her own lemon balm.
Fiyero watched her make tea, layering the metal tea strainer over a teacup. He recognized it, he used to get that one all the time when he was little and asked for raspberry leaf tea. It was gold, and the holes were shaped like little stars. A small constellation floating in his cup, universes begging to be explored. Elphaba sprinkled in the nettle, and followed up with a pour of steaming water. When it filled to the brim, she stirred it around three times with a cinnamon stick and let it plunk down into the strainer.
She pushed the cup across the table towards him. He took it, she was hypnotic when she brewed. For herself, she skipped the strainer entirely. She crushed a generous handful of lemon balm in her hand and dropped it directly into the teacup. Like Fiyero's, she poured hot water to the brim, spun a cinnamon stick around three times and dropped it into the glass to let it settle at the bottom.
"The lemon balm won't be as good." He jabbed playfully, waiting for his tea to steep.
"Maybe they'll let me use their kitchen garden, I could grow herbs like I do back home."
"Let you? You're the queen of the Vinkus, they're your staff."
She rolled her eyes, "They still get an opinion. I wouldn't want my employer lording over my garden." She looked at the balcony, towards the sky, "I could tear up one of the walking gardens, make my own space. Make it home, little by little."
"I barely recognized him." Fiyero said bitterly when the tea had steeped enough for his liking and he removed the gold strainer.
"Your brother?"
Fiyero was about to continue but swallowed it down, still too difficult to say aloud. He did manage a nod.
"I didn't ever get to know him well," Elphaba conceded, "But I didn't like what I saw. Do you think the drinking is a recent development? We all have our own ways of mourning."
Fiyero shrugged, letting the steam from the nettle tea fill his nose.
"Do you want me to stop talking?" She offered.
He shook his head in the negative, "I love when you talk." More tears came up, from nowhere it seemed, but they surged through him powerfully and he quaked, "I just hate change. And I hate responsibility. I loathe this song and dance, who's allowed to sit in my fathers chair, who has to tell who it's time to sit down at the dinner table. My father was given all that power and it made a very unlikeable man out of him. I don't ever want to be what he was. I've spent my whole life determined to convince everyone that I'm not right for this because I don't want to be right for this life. Look what it's done to Nor."
He let out a few embarrassing, ragged sobs, "And it's stupid of me to cry."
"You aren't stupid for crying." Elphaba said, "Now you say I have 'a thing' about my emotions, but you're busy judging yourself for feeling anything at all."
"You have a way with words, you can be such a tender asshole about things."
She shrugged, "You used to call that my most enchanting quality."
She took a sip of her tea, finally. It was surprisingly good. Not quite like the one she grew back home, but she knew nothing would compare. Her soil was different, her garden felt like magic. But she was determined to make new magic. Her insides were boiling with anxiety, with pain and sadness, she missed her cats, she missed the people. She mostly missed how happy her husband was there.
But at least the lemon balm was good.