Chapter 24
He answered her with a kiss, one that felt like it took away all the breath in her lungs. Then her moved down against her neck, his hands slowly undoing the buttons of her shirt. His fingers slipped under her skirt, finding the thigh -high hemline of her tights.
The pads of Fiyero’s finger the inside of her thigh. His lips pressed followed the line between her breast, his free hand running over her collarbone till it felt the soft material of her bra strap beginning to push it aside.
Voices filled the other side of the door. Quickly Fiyero pulled back. With an equal speed, Elphaba sat up, buttoning her shirt and straightening her skirt. The voices were recognizably Fiyero’s younger siblings. They spoke so quickly and muffled enough that Elphaba couldn’t comprehend anything they said.
After a particularly loud sentence from Thana, she watched Fiyero smiled, holding back a laugh. Elphaba looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
“She just told my mother we should invite you to dinner.”
“And why is that so funny?”
“Because she basically called you my significant other?”
Elphaba thought back to her time in the Vinkus. She couldn’t recall the use of such a word. Most Vinkun she met were married or engaged at a young age. There were some exceptions, but they either didn’t have or didn’t mention such a term. Nor has she heard such terms in the Vinkun district, despite knowing people where in such a relationship. She had figured it was some level of cultural politeness.
“And what is the word for that in the Vinkun language?”
“There isn’t really a word in most tribes, except for thew Yunamata. The loan words from quadling country make up more of the language than standard vinkun.” Fiyero tried to explain. “It the same word for friend but using the conjugation for self. Or in this case, Thana used the masculine conjugation. Using a male possessive for a female friend implies a more intense relationship ,despite the fact that it would be translated as the same sentence in Ozian.”
He demonstrated the differences in speech, and Elphaba realized then that while she had heard a difference from time to time, she thought it was an odd grammatical usage of language, less so than a difference altogether. The flaws of not being a native speaker. Going forward, she would be more mindful of such hidden rules within language.
“I assume the idea was quickly put down,” Elphaba continued the originally conversation.
“Not really,” Fiyero mused. “Mama just said you weren’t my partner and left it at that. Amael pointed out that it wasn’t a no, but he didn’t get a response.”
Fiyero fell back against his side of the bed. A hand snaked around Elphaba, pulled her close as he laid his head against her stomach. Her hand drifted into his sandy hair, fingers running through the soft strands. Elphaba knew she should probably go. She should find Ozma like she had come her to do. In the moment though, she felt as if she was sinking into a cloud. There was a calming effect that came with Fiyero against her. Maybe it was the weight, or the way the world was quieter in his presence. Either way, it made it incredibly hard to consider moving.
There was a small tension though, unspoken words lingering in the air. What were they? Friends? Lovers? What did that make Glinda to them? All questions that would ruin the rather agreeable phase the three of them had been in since the night Elphaba chased Fiyero down the hall. They all knew they would have to work out the logistics eventually, especially when it came to how to present themselves in public, but it had felt like an issue to address after break.
Elphaba refused to linger on it, and soon found herself drifting off, settled in the far too comfortable beds of the Palace.
--
A wave of unease fell over Elphaba, caught in the veil between consciousness and something else. It was filled with scrambled music and mumbles. Screams and laughs, things that belonged in the same place and yet were so clearly in the wrong order. It was disconcerting and disorienting, like hearing a voice leaving the wrong mouth.
“I want them dead.”
A male voice rose above the rest, familiar but not. A voice she had heard in her dreams.
Then she saw a memory. That day in the class, when she grabbed the curse in her palms, letting in cut into her deep. She watched as Madam Margarette snapped each string, saw how the snapped back like elastics as the tension broke. Then the ground shook beneath her and she plummeted into water, cold shocking her system and seizing her muscles. Her lungs burned for air, and yet she couldn’t reach the surface, the rapids keeping her below the rushing river.
When she finally pushed forward and above the water, suddenly she was stumbling forward, still soaked, but this time due to the rain. She watched as a hooded figure made their way through the doors of a decrepit castle. The wind swung hard and the doors, already ajar swung backward and opened. The ivy growing against the building shifted at the harsh motion, ripping as the door moved in a way it clearly hadn’t in years.
Elphaba followed as the person as he walked into the building, shivering and heaving against the weight of her water-soaked clothes. She couldn’t see any defining features. Though rope ends seemed to hang from their wrists, followed by a pair of burlap gloves. He made his way through the building, passed the fallen chandelier and towards the stairs. Higher and higher they went, making their way through the halls and dark. Every so often, she heard an animalistic screech echoing throughout the castle, or a scurry of some hidden creature in the dark. Eventually they stopped at an open room, windows and torches lighting the space. It was an oddity in the otherwise dark castle. The figure made his way to the center of the room, knocking two, three times before swinging a hidden trap door open. Elphaba saw movement, the clear indication of something below. Before she could see who or what it was, a piercing light broke through, causing her to flinch away as it blinded her. A heaving force threw her against the ground. When she looked up, all she could see was smoke. She looked down, her body the only visible thing, even the ground beneath her gone. Then she saw her hand, not laced with swirling green, but fully covered, like a grassy field against her skin.
“This is extreme, even for you,” A feminine voice, once again from that damned dream she couldn’t quite put together. “You’ll send all of Oz into chaos.”
“That will only make it easier,” the male voice responded. “I won’t be held back by political acceptability from those hardliners in Gillikin country or traditionalists in Munchkinland.”
“And what about the girl?”
“Ward it,” he ordered. “Even if she could manage to break the ward, she wouldn’t be able to break both it and the curse it protects in time.”
Curses and wards. Spells and magic she knew, and yet her mind found it impossible to focus. The world spun; mist filled her lungs like dust. The ache in her shoulders that came and went suddenly sprung to life, sharp and vicious. A loud banging piled upon the disorientation and then her body jolted, waking her up.
The Pain in her shoulder still radiated. It was harsh and unrelenting. She might have cried out, if the sheer pain of it didn’t make anything but quiet whimpers possible. Fiyero was at the door, talking to someone in Arijikian Vinkun. Elphaba gripped the blanket, pulling herself upward. She didn’t have an idea of what she was doing, but it felt like she needed to move, an illogical survival instinct taking over. She barely made it to the edge of the bed before the pain had her legs giving out, her knees crashing against the floor.
Fiyero turned around, eyes widening. The words he was saying were abruptly cut off as he ran over to Elphaba, keeping her upper body from collapsing against the floor. Yelling was distant in the background. She gripped his shirt so tightly that the seam in the shoulder began to tear.
“Elphaba, wha-what’s wrong?”
She opened her mouth, small whimpers of pain coming out as she tried to speak. Words were choked by the burning hot feeling radiating from her shoulder. Fiyero saw how she grabbed it. He was quick to pull at her shirt, the collar, first, and second button all popping off, scattering against the floor. Underneath the fabric, he saw what looked to be a lash mark. Small, but distinct and stained deep black. Around the cut, veins intersected, turning black spreading against her collar bone.
“What is Lureline’s name is going on?”
It was the Vinkun King, Amael and Thana peeking out behind him. There was no surprise in her presence, and Fiyero either didn’t care whether his father cared about Elphaba’s presence, or that the King had already known.
“Ra..R..ain,” Elphaba managed to force out the hoarse word in bits.
“Rain,” Fiyero repeated, then turned to his dad. “Send for Rain.”
His father hesitated for a moment. Whatever was happening in the moment had him in confuse or shock, or something in between. Usually, he didn’t freeze at emergencies. The king couldn’t imagine how many battles he may have lost if he did so. Now though, harm so personal and apparent, so singularized as opposed to a battlefield where blood marred every step, this felt unfamiliar, new.
“NOW!”
The King snapped out of his stupor as Amael and Thana flinched.
Fiyero was always the quieter of the family. It had always been like that, to the point where the twins couldn’t remember a time, he ever raised his voice. When he was an infant, not even a minute old, the doctors worried when he didn’t cry. They kept worrying as he grew, only making enough noise to alert his mother he was hungry or needed to be changed. It wasn’t till he was three that he said his first word. Once he learned to speak, he was quiet, but it was no longer to a worrying degree. Then there as the incident when he was eight. One of the last conflicts resulting from the ongoing debate Arijikan royal lineage. He didn’t speak for over a year afterward. To hear him now, in fury and worry over the girl in his arms, it was akin to hearing a housecat roar as a lion would.
“Fi..” Elphaba tried to say.
The word died in her throat as her head fell against his chest, the closest thing to a sob exiting her mouth.
“Yero.”
She breathed against him, then her grip lightened. The blackness on her shoulder receded into nothing, disappearing like smoke against her skin.
“Elphaba?”
She pulled her head up, her body aching as she moved. His eyes took in every moment, every bit of movement. Any sign that she was hurt or in pain, readying himself to react.
“I’m okay,” she assured him. “It stopped.”
Fiyero nodded his head, his hand cupping her face, thumb gently brushing against her cheeks. His hand found it’s place at her waist as he helped her stand. Slowly, they walked back towards the bed. Elphaba leaned against the headboard, keeping herself upright as the shuffling of guards in the hall became apparent.
Then, with a rather roar, Lox announced himself to the room. The Lion’s amber eyes met Fiyero’s blue ones, a competition playing out in their stares alone. Lox looked at the man as if he had been the one to cause Elphaba suffering.
“Stop being so dramatic,” Elphaba bemoaned.
Lox let out a huff as he approached. Eyes still leering at Fiyero. It was as if he was strategically positioning himself to strike.
“If you think he’s dramatic then you won’t be able to stand me.”
In the doorway, a tall and lithe figure stood. His skin was a color between amber and umber. His eyes were dark, a mischievous glimmer in them. His hair coiled in soft curls, the black color framing his face.
“It’s nice to see you too Tip.”