Shirayuki finally breathed a sigh of relief when they approached the gates of Shenezard Castle. While the pain in her arm had dulled to a throb and her nausea had eased as a result, her heart was still tight. She had only dared to peek back at Obi a few times during their ride, doing her best to see over Mitsuhide's shoulder, but her knight had stared resolutely ahead. He hadn't even had the decency to try to look contrite. It was uncommon that she and Obi disagreed, but this time she was determined to not be the first one to apologize. A small guilty part of her told her that no one actually needed forgiving. They were attacked, she was hurt, but everyone would live to see another day. There wasn't much better that they could hope for, but it still rankled that he saw himself as disposable, as less important than her.

The gate guards waited for them approach, having seen them approach from a distance away. Mitsuhide nudged his mount forward to announce them.

"Zen Wisteria, second prince of Clarines, here to see His Highness, Prince Raj." He gave a short seated bow, trying not to bump into Shirayuki in front of him.

Sakaki strode past the guards and bowed in return. His eyes skated over the group and his eyes lingered a moment longer on the girl, taking in the sling and the tightness of her face.

"We've been expecting you. His Highness is currently resting, but he has asked me to see you to your rooms and he will gladly meet with you this evening." He turned and walked into the courtyard, where stable hands waited to take their horses. They all dismounted, with Mitsuhide easing Shirayuki gently off the mount. Servants stepped in and grabbed their bags and the group followed Sakaki.

"How is he doing?" she asked, not missing the dark circles under the prince's aide's eyes.

"As well as one could," he answered, "I'm sure he'll find comfort in you being here."

Before long, they arrived at the guest wing. Zen, Kiki, and Mitsuhide were shown to vacant rooms, and Obi and Shirayuki were taken to their usual set of rooms. Though their visits were usually quarterly, the rooms were left vacant for them and the maids had unofficially dubbed them the "Friend of the Crown" suites. Their bags were deposited inside the doors and one of the maids lead Shirayuki further into her room. A fire was already burning merrily in the fireplace, and the maid indicated to the bathroom the joined rooms shared.

"My lady, I've drawn a bath for you." She looked dubiously at the sling and the ginger way the girl held herself. "Would you like some assistance getting undressed?"

Shirayuki opened her mouth to protest, to say that it was no bother, then snapped it shut. Shyly, she nodded and followed the maid into the bathroom. A steaming tub, indeed, greeted her and she sighed, ready to ease her aching muscles. A clean dress was also hanging in the room, aired out and waiting for her. With a little maneuvering, and a lot of blushing, the women worked her out of her riding clothes. Unsure of what to do with her splinted arm, she decided that it might as well soak and get cleaned off as well. Easing it under the water, she winced when the hot water touched the wound.

The maid gathered up all of her dirtied garments and bundled them into a hamper. Turning back to Shirayuki, she sent an appraising eye over the girl.

"My lady, may I help you to wash? I know you prefer to bathe on your own, but please allow me to at least help you with your hair. I am sure that it would go much easier with more hands."

Trying to push down her embarrassment, she slid a little further in the water. Her hair now grazed just past her shoulders and it would be a challenge to wash one handed. "Yes, please. That would be very helpful."

Between the two women, they managed to get her washed and dressed with minimal jostling of her wound. Afterwards, Shirayuki sat in a plush chair by the fire, shaking out her damp locks and letting them dry. A towel rested between her and her splinted arm. She knew she would need to rebandage it and get it dry, but for the moment, she closed her eyes and eased back into the comfortable warmth. The chair had been one of her favorites in the castle's library, and Prince Raj had declared that it belonged, instead, in her suite. She was embarrassed, but grateful as it was, indeed, the most comfortable chair in the castle.

What felt like only moments later, she startled awake, hearing the shared door of the suite snick shut. Tiredly, she turned her head towards Obi, who was now rummaging through her medicine bag. He, too, had cleaned up and was now in his dress blacks. She thought about sniping at him about being uninvited, but she was so tired. She knew their fight was unreasonable, that no one was truly in the wrong. But she felt so strung out, so overwrought with hurt after hurt that she had let her grief for Raj and her fear for Obi morph into a black, bitter thing.

When he turned back towards her, medicine bag over his shoulder and bandages in his hands, she knew she had already forgiven him.

"If you've rested enough, Miss, we'll change your bandages." His voice was polite, respectful, and absolutely not her Obi. Her heart pinched at how distant he sounded.

"I'm sure I can handle it myself now," she said, guilt lacing through her voice.

"And I'm sure you could, Miss, but I'm supposed to take care of you, and that's what I'm doing, so please let me." His gaze was soft and he knelt in front of her chair, readying the bandages and medicines.

"Obi, I'm sorry," she breathed out, unable to handle the distance that felt like it was yawning between them. "I was scared and I lashed out and –"

"Miss," golden eyes pierced hers and stilled her. "You have nothing to apologize for." His hand caught her uninjured one and she looked down into his eyes, earnestness shining back at her. His thumb swept across the top of her hand and her stomach flipped. Backlit by the fire, he glowed and she suddenly ached to touch his face, hold onto him before he could shatter apart into flecks of embers, swirling away from her. The moment was broken when he lightly squeezed her hand and broke her gaze.

"Sakaki was here just a bit ago and told me that Raj would be ready to see you shortly. Let's get you fixed up and then we'll go and see him." Lithe fingers danced over her injured arm, untying and removing the sodden bandages, then carefully replacing them until she was splinted once again. From the arm of the chair, he procured a shawl the maid had draped there, tying it deftly into a sling that matched her dress.

Through it all she had watched him quietly, noticing how practiced he seemed, how sure of himself. When she leaned her head forward for him to tie the shawl behind her neck, he gently brushed the hair away to keep from knotting it up.

"Obi, could I ask you for a favor?" her voice was hesitant, unsure.

"Always, Miss."

"Could you help me tie my hair back? A braid, if you know how. It's just so inconvenient when it's down. I should just chop it off again," she sighed.

"Let's not get hasty," he said, mouth quirking up. He'd never told her, but he'd enjoyed watching her hair grow out, and in turn her confidence as the people of Clarines stopped being so shocked by the unusual color. "Regular braid or French braid?"

"You know how to French braid?" Surprise colored her voice and he chuckled.

"Well of course, Miss. Took me a bit to learn, but raising sisters will do that to you." His eyes turned distant for a moment, but he shook it off and repacked the medicine bag, then straightened. Moving to her dressing table, he found a brush and a small ribbon. She watched him curiously until he moved behind her and started running the brush through her hair. Her eyes closed and a sigh slipped from her lips. Brushing her hair was something her grandmother had done for her as a child, and the gentle care felt so intimate.

Cool fingers soon replaced the brush, sliding through her hair and shifting it around until he was satisfied and could start the plait. Obi took his time, letting the silky strands slide over his fingers. He had always had to stop himself from slipping his fingers through her hair, brushing it from her face. His fingertips tingled and the closer he got to her neck, the harder it became to keep his hands dedicated to their work.

"Sisters, hm?" she startled him from where his mind had turned, picturing himself running his hands down her neck.

"Yup, three of them," he said, absently. Shirayuki was surprised he had answered. Normally he was tight lipped about his past.

"I bet they adored you," she said, trying to picture him with three little girls tagging along.

"They bossed me around more than Miss Kiki," he said, a soft smile crossing his face. Sadness washed over him at the memory and his hands stilled for a moment.

"I'm sure they miss you," she said gently, opening her eyes and staring into the fire.

Obi hummed noncommittally in response. They had not parted on good terms, despite how he had tried to care for them, to protect them. Shirayuki noticed his stillness and understood the topic was closed. She leaned back a little into his hands and he startled slightly, then continued braiding. After tying off the bottom with the ribbon, his resolve cracked and he ghosted his knuckles up the side of her neck before stepping back.

"All done, Miss," he turned to put the brush back on the dressing table and missed the shiver that creeped over the red-head.

A knock sounded at the door, and they both turned to it.

"Come in," Obi called, and the door swung open.

Sakaki stood framed in the doorway, looking wholly unsurprised to see Obi in Shirayuki's room. "His Highness is ready to receive you."