AN: Special thanks to RavenCurls for the beautiful art! So talented!

By dinner, Fiyero felt more in control. Aruc bounced around him in flirtation with Elphaba, but when she appealed to his help, he obliged with some pretext about rooms. It let him question his friend about Three, but Aruc had nothing to add.

Fiyero returned to find Nessa hiding her tears. She fled at the sight of him, and while he ought to feel sympathy, he could only worry she'd burned Elphaba again.

He took a step to check and stopped short when Elphaba matched the step away. He'd done nothing, yet a guilty pit formed in his stomach. "What was that about?"

"What do you think?" Elphaba rolled her eyes, and he shook his head slowly.

Unbelievable. He wiped a tired hand over his face. "I suppose that means I've been excommunicated again, until your conscience swings back in my direction?"

She bit her lip.

He slumped against the wall. "At least you can't accuse me of ignoring her. She's the one who left."

"To hide her crying, you dolt. She's devastated by your affair with Three."

"Three?" Ugh, what an awful thought. "Why in Oz would she think that?"

She stared at him as if realizing he were very stupid. "Because Three is shameless, ogling you, draping herself on you. It's disgusting."

He pursed his lips. "Thanks."

"Your wife is literally in the same room half the time. I can't believe she'd be so brazen."

He let his head fall back with a thunk, waiting out the complaints. She crossed her arms.

"Don't you have anything to say?"

He shrugged. "It's not as if I've encouraged her. But if you come to me in search of outrage that one might consider adultery, I fear you court the wrong sympathizer."

She snapped at him, and they bickered. She stabbed a finger in his chest. "Don't play martyr, like you're the only who's sacrificed here. You're just the only one unwilling to see it through."

"See it through?" He caught her chin. "How would you like me to see it through? What must I do to make you happy now? Shall I murder Three in cold blood for annoying you?"

He read her silent glare like a master sommelier tasted wine. Narrowed eyes, breath fluttering, fingers clutching his wrists like talons – frustration, yes, but more fear. She was scared, and mad at herself for feeling such, and mad at him for letting her.

Scared of the wild spinning lack of control either of them had in this.

That melted his annoyance. He was scared, too. "I will. Say the word, and she's gone," he teased. His eyes traced her lips. "Nothing matters compared to you." He let a thumb trace the path his eyes had blazed. "Would poison suffice or must I have her burned at the stake?"

"Tarred and feathered," she returned, and they shared a laugh at the absurdity. He let go of her, and she leaned against him. "But don't. She isn't worth it."

He let his eyes close and pressed the top of her head in a tender kiss. "You are. Worth anything and everything."

Even if it consumed him whole, which he realized more and more would be his destiny.

They spent a few precious moments in quiet acceptance, and he left her with a centered calm feeling spreading through his heart. As he headed to bed, he caught sight of Three reclining in the western lounge with a parchment and quill.

Per his father's orders, he trudged over to befriend her. "Might I join you?"

"Of course. A pleasure." She slid her correspondence away and refolded herself, legs and arms crossed to best display her figure. "Your book discussion went well?"

He smiled at the memory. "Very pleasant, thank you."

"I would enjoy reading this book I think."

His smile froze in place, though she couldn't know the implications. "I imagine you would."

"Has your darling wife read it also?" He shook his head to clear that image away. "Perhaps you should give it to her first. I do love to savor my reading. I find it so much more satisfying to take my time and soak it all in. But I doubt she'd want to wait until I'd finished."

They needed to change the subject before his ears caught fire. "Have you been for that ride with Aruc yet?"

"Not yet." She set a hand on his arm, her elbows pressed to her chest to present a direct view of her décolletage. "Are you offering to take me?"

Elphaba's complaints swam to mind, but his father wanted Three won over. "Certainly. We should all make a day of it."

"Lovely." Three's hand squeezed his arm. "Forgive me, but your bride," she chose her words, "can she share in such a pastime?"

"She has ridden with me before, yes."

"How reassuring. Of course, strong as you are," her hand trailed over his arm, bicep to wrist, "I'm sure you'd be more than capable of providing any assistance she needed."

He forced a smile. What did she search for in these questions?

"I wonder if Munchkinland men are as gifted with muscles as our Arjiki."

Her hand still had not stopped, and he leaned back to limit her range. "I imagine so. Farmland requires brawn to maintain."

She quirked a smile. "A pleasant picture."

He laughed. "You're welcome to enjoy it for us both."

"How considerate you are of a woman's needs."

He shifted at the innuendo, the specter of Elphaba's disapproval chasing away his charm. He channeled the memory of her to draw a smile. "I do my best."

"Your reputation proceeds you." Three sent her meaning with hooded eyes. Well, fine. He had no intentions of offering proof. She leaned in. "What is your secret?"

He juggled so many now, but none what she meant. "My secret?"

She smirked.

"Simple. I pay attention." More than she'd expected him to, no doubt. "And I do as I'm told."

"Be still my heart," she sighed dreamily. "A man who listens."

He laughed despite himself. "It's getting late. Perhaps we'd better continue this conversation tomorrow."

"Will you walk me back?"

"Of course."

The flirtation probed for deeper meaning behind the innuendo. She already knew he didn't prefer his marriage. Did she suspect her chances possible? His refusal to consummate left an opening, if she knew and could prove it, but she couldn't. Regardless, he wouldn't regret the one decency he'd managed to carve out for himself.

Perhaps she held no more sophisticated plan than to seduce him. He spent the better part of the walk to her room discarding excuses to use if she asked him in. But at the door, she only flashed a sultry smile. "Until morning, then, my prince."

He replayed their conversation in search of the barbs, but it led him, as most thoughts did, to missing Elphaba in his bed. He'd happily show her a man who listened, to prove his attentiveness to her every desire voiced or otherwise. The pleasant dreams held him late, until a bright sun and musical bird came to wake him.

He breezed in to breakfast. "Have I missed much?"

Elphaba rolled her eyes. "Only extreme civility today."

"You're opposed to civility now?" He laughed, and she shot him a look.

"Pass the bryla, please." Aruc held the basket gingerly, and she huffed. "Oh, for Oz's sake! You can stop this. I forgive you for yesterday. If you never pull that stunt again." Right, he'd forgotten the rescuing.

"Yes, ma'am." Aruc mimed a lock and key on his lips, and Elphaba patted his cheek just as Three sauntered in.

"I see you've taken our discussion to heart."

Elphaba snapped her hand back with a glare at Three's uninvited solidarity. FIyero tilted his head. "What discussion?"

Three leaned close as if confiding a secret. "What an adorable couple they would make." She set a hand on his. "Don't you think they would have beautiful little babies?"

A vision he certainly did not need in his head. He hoped his grunt passed as typical male aversion to conversations of romance.

Aruc's smile flooded with hope, though, and he set a gentle hand on hers. "And you? What did you think?"

Nessa pursed her lips. "She is determined to be obstinate, I'm afraid, despite your obvious suitability for each other." Fiyero drew a measured breath. Did Nessa ever interact with Elphaba without condescension or command?

Elphaba's sigh dripped with weariness.

"Honestly, Fabala, who else would be patient enough to put up with your constant tantrums?"

"Yes, who indeed?" he teased wickedly, and Elphaba turned her glower on him.

"Can't I be left in peace?"

Fiyero propped himself back with hand behind his head. "What of Aruc's peace?" he taunted with a grin. "Is he to be constrained to a life of misery pining for you? Wanting you without the slightest chance to express it?"

She crossed her arms. "It's his own fault for pining."

"Is it?"

He asked a different question, and from her face, she knew it. But Nessa misunderstood her silence. "The poor man has been wallowing at your feet since you've arrived. Surely you could allow him the opportunity to court you."

"Fine. If it will shut you all up."

"A real chance," Nessa bullied, "not an evening of beratements and insults."

Elphaba rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes." She glared at her would-be beau. "Nothing from you? No two cents to throw in with everyone else's?"

Aruc worried his lip. "Every time I speak, I tend to offend you somehow."

She scoffed. "Yes, a marvelous pairing."

Fiyero watched the interchanges with more amusement than he ought. His friend continued his best seduction, with Nessa championing on the side, unaware why Elphaba's attention drifted.

Three leaned in, a hand ever-present on his arm. "She is clever to make him chase her," she whispered, "but I think she will give in."

"No, she's too stubborn to be browbeaten into it." He swallowed a smile. "I'd offer a wager, but as a lady, I know you'd have to refuse."

"If I weren't a lady?" Three's full lips parted to match her bedroom eyes, as affective on him as week-old custard. "Too bad. A tempting offer."

Elphaba glared at Fiyero suddenly. Had she heard? "Alright, Aruc. Tonight."

Quite an about-face, but her haughty glare at Fiyero made clear the reason why. To punish him. She'd told him to stay away from Three, and he'd told her not to toy with his friend's heart. His lack of obedience spurred hers.

His stomach clenched, but he forced a flippant grin. "We ought to make it special, then. Miss Three, will you help me arrange it?"

"Of course," she oozed. "How splendid."

The opportunity to investigate Three about the spicer made a giftwrapped bonus. "Come, let's discuss the menu."

The day passed in preparations. Surprisingly, Three applied herself with integrity to the task. When she dropped the seduction, her calculating eyes seemed shrewd, intelligent. Nothing struck him to aid his query, but for the first time, he thought he saw the real girl beneath the blustery seductions and grabs for power.

"You're very gifted at this," he offered as she arranged the poppies and yellow roses. The unusual pairing highlighted both vivid colors in contrast without clashing. "Have you much experience with spices and scents, then, in your new occupation? I'd imagine your father's trade contacts come in of value."

She nodded. "Yes, though the import restrictions are surprisingly taxing."

"I wouldn't imagine you prefer to import anyway." She tilted her head, and he dipped to smell the poppies. "The Vinkus has such wonderful scents as it is."

There. A vague anti-global, nationalist implication that committed nothing. She smiled. "Our home is remarkable."

"Quite true." Buoyed in his success, he dipped a bow. "Set me to work. You are my captain. How may I serve?"

She tipped out a hip. "What an attractive offer," she massaged each of the syllables. "I have many ideas that spring to mind."

The bubble of success brightened his tasks. His father would be so proud. For once his sacrifices seemed productive, and not overwhelming. A single missed lesson from Elphaba he could tolerate, and a massive undertaking accomplish in return.

"Have you lit the candles?" Three appeared at his elbow. "Oh, no, that won't do at all." She fussed with the napkins, sliding behind with a guiding hand across his back. "Here, they're coming."

He forced a casual air. With all his success today, this dinner would be easy. Aruc came first, fidgety and pale. Fiyero took a step to calm him when Elphaba entered.

She stole the oxygen right from his lungs.

"She looks nice," Three offered kindly, but he could only bob a nod. Nice. Yes. Lurline.

The corset outlined her figure, but not cheaply. Demure. Sexy. The metallic gray material shimmered, and silver highlights sparkled through eyes rimmed with black and devastatingly piercing. But the killer blow? Her gorgeous, silky hair gathered off her neck to spill in a cascade of gentle curls down her back. It was elegant and feminine and damn if it didn't make him want to mess it all up.

Aruc held out her usual chair with a grin. "I've been waiting ages to do that."

Fiyero hadn't anticipated that. He'd planned to feed Nessa, not sit on the front lines of her attempted seduction.

Elphaba plopped in her seat without any attempt at grace, and he swallowed a smile. "What?" she snapped, and his smile widened to a grin.

"Nothing. How's your date?"

"Fine." Her clipped tones reassured him. This was a show, a secret he was in on. His fiery Fae still rested under all that demure packaging.

"You look lovely," Fiyero said, setting his napkin in his lap.

She frowned. Clearly his good mood disrupted his punishment. "It was Nessa's doing."

Aruc dutifully supplied, "Though I'm certain you would look just as lovely in any attire."

"See," she turned on her sister. "I didn't have to get all dressed up like this."

"Oh, hush," Nessa bit back. "You look pretty; everyone's said so." An understatement. He couldn't stop looking at Elphaba, wondering how that shimmering silk would feel under his fingers.

Aruc took her hand, and she fidgeted. The stewards brought food, but still they held hands. It should have irritated Fiyero, but he found the whole dinner suddenly ludicrous. Poor Elphaba. It couldn't have felt less like something she would enjoy – dressed up, public, on display to everyone.

She fumbled her fork left-handed, and he had a sudden inspiration. Fiyero turned to Three. "You did an excellent job with the décor. Have you much experience?"

She rose to the bait, of course, and as she launched into the finer points of silk embroidery versus dyed linens, he snuck his hand into Elphaba's lap. She swallowed a squeak, but he kept his focus.

"How does that balance the centerpiece?"

His hand slid over the smooth material, soft under his touch. Not as soft as her skin. Aruc questioned her, and she croaked out an excuse. She still hadn't pushed Fiyero off.

He took the opportunity to explore further then. He let his fingers trail circles over her thighs, drifting higher. Her breath sped up, and he had to work hard to control his own. His heart thudded loud in his ears. She twitched as he edged her napkin out of the way, and he swallowed hard.

He'd expect to tease her a moment before she groused at him. Not have them both boiling in their seats. But Oz, it felt good to affect her like she affected him. She attempted a drink from her glass, and he brushed his thumb over a sensitive spot on her inner thigh. She choked, and Aruc rushed her a napkin.

Still no brush off. Kumbricia, she made a wicked temptation, flushed from his touch. What a heady thought that he caused it. "Huh?" she breathed at Aruc's conversation, and Fiyero rewarded her with long line trailed over the length of her thigh.

"I asked if you might reconsider riding. I understand your first experience might have been – intense, but I'd like an opportunity to sway you to its benefits."

"You should," Fiyero teased, his fingertips drifting over that spot that made her jump. "I think you could come to love riding."

She locked eyes with Fiyero. "Of course, Aruc, I'd love to go riding with you." She turned to set a hand on his arm with a coquettish bat of her eyelashes. "I'm sure you'll keep me safe."

Aruc's forehead wrinkled, but he didn't question his good luck. "Should we aim for sunset, or would you rather we take that walk tonight?"

"Why don't we try for sunrise instead?" She tilted her head so the curls tumbled over her shoulder. So unfair, but he, too, could play dirty. He traced a diamond over her thigh, then flared his fingers out to palm the taut dress, and her eyes fluttered shut. She sucked in a breath and blinked wildly.

Fiyero swallowed a smile. "Would you like a picnic prepared? I'm sure the stewards wouldn't mind."

Elphaba glowered at him. "What a wonderful idea."

"Glad to help."

She snapped a nod and collected her napkin with a firm brush across her lap at last. Fiyero removed his hand, but still she turned her back on him. She clutched Aruc's hands with both hers. "You have nice fingers."

"Do I?" Aruc murmured. His other hand came to sweep the hair from her forehead. "I don't know how I've managed this sudden surge of goodwill, but I'm very grateful. Please let me know so I can repeat this as often as possible."

She immediately tucked into a scowl and snapped, "Is it so hard to believe I'm not a callous shrew?"

"More that I've never seen you this affectionate in public," Aruc rushed out. "Not that I'm complaining. Just – surprised. I thought you could barely tolerate the idea of this."

"You won me over."

He leaned toward her. "Did I? I don't see how, but I'm certainly glad."

Fiyero had to fight a laugh when she peeked at him. She thought to make him jealous with this? How could he be when she aimed every line at him? Sure, she meant it to unsettle him, but it reassured that his opinion carried importance for her.

She threw their hands down. "You're right. We shouldn't be so demonstrative in public."

Aruc flashed a wicked grin. "Does that mean in private-"

"Don't push your luck." She glared at him. "I'd like to use both hands, please, so as not to eat like a Neanderthal."

Fiyero dabbed at his smile with a napkin. "Yes, that rabbit was very easy to cut one-handed, but a sorbet is a real challenge."

She ticked up her chin.

Three cooed beside him, her hand curled again around his bicep. "Oh, I think she's embarrassed, being so forward."

"Her forward?" Nessa snapped, her face as red as the poppies. "You're draped on my husband."

Three blinked innocently. "What?"

Fiyero sent her a firm look. "Please, let's enjoy our dinner."

She huffed. "You would side with her." A childish sulk threatened if his forecasting aimed true.

He drew a calming breath. "Yes, I do often side with civility."

Three set a hand on his arm. "I apologize. I didn't mean to offend. Honestly, Miss Elphaba, you can be as forward as you like. We know you've been waiting for this for ages. Go on, no one will think less of you."

Aruc cleared his throat. "Please pass the sugar."

Elphaba made no move to comply, too busy glaring at her teaspoon. So Fiyero reached across her to hand him the bowl.

She shoved him back. "Watch where you're leaning."

He gave a lopsided grin. "Oh, I mayn't lean? I apologize. I didn't mean to invade your personal space." His eyes dipped to her lap, and she flushed darkly. "I suppose you meant Aruc to reach over you, and here I've interrupted your plan." He pulled the bowl back out of reach. "There you are."

Three chuckled beside him, and Aruc bit his lip. "You know, too much sugar is bad for you. Perhaps I'll stick with it plain."

"Yes, plain," Three let her eyes trace Elphaba, "is just as filling, isn't it?" Though if she meant by that to call Elphaba plain, he couldn't imagine a premise so laughable with her smoldering and sparking in that gorgeous dress.

But the ridiculous insult landed square on Elphaba's face. She tucked her eyes down. He stole his hand toward where hers rested on her lap, offering his support, but she shoved him away to stand.

Aruc matched her. "Ready for our walk then?"

"Would you fetch me a shawl? I seem to recall it gets quite cool here in the evenings."

"With pleasure." Aruc dipped a bow and hustled off. Fiyero sighed. His poor friend.

He made an excuse to hustle after Aruc. Three's comment about imports made him wonder a businessman's perspective. Certainly it had nothing to do with avoiding the prickly girl drama brewing.

A sharp tug on his arm hauled him in a shallow niche. Elphaba's fingers clutched around his arm, but he didn't try to free himself. "What is the matter with you?" she hissed, an arm flung in the direction of Aruc's back. He supposed imports could wait.

"Me?" He took her hand with both his, fluttering lashes around faux-doe eyes. She shoved him off, and he frowned right back. "You're the one leading him on again."

"Which you seem to find hilarious now." Her hands clutched her elbows. "So much for this overwhelming infatuation of yours."

"What did you expect me to do? Jealously shove him off you? Growl and frown at every touch?" He lifted an eyebrow, and she blushed. Perhaps she ought not peek at him the whole time then. "I've no need for jealousy." He dipped to press her lips in a soft, sensual kiss. "I know what's mine."

"Not me," she snarled, "that's for sure."

"Oh?" He coerced another kiss with a grin. "I think your lips would beg to disagree. Shall we ask them?"

She kissed him back for a moment before she remembered herself. She shoved him off, and he couldn't hide his smirk. "Quit before someone sees you."

"You mean your precious suitor?"

"And your friend. He'll be back any second." Her wide eyes spoke genuine distress, and he complied. But she leaned forward as he moved back, somewhat spoiling her caution.

"Poor Aruc. You really shouldn't lead him on like that." He smoothed a hand over her arm and dropped the tease. "He's infatuated enough without these false hopes."

"Who says they're false?"

Fiyero fought a laugh. Pulling him in kisses in the dark, for a start. But she wrapped her arms around herself and adopted that sad look which meant she was about to play martyr. His smile dripped from his face.

"You're serious?"

Her chin tipped up. "Perhaps a more available option is exactly what this situation requires."

Of course. He pressed his lips together in a thin line. "I see. It isn't enough to use him to provoke me to jealousy. You've got to exploit his affections indefinitely?"

Her frown deepened. "You make it sound like I'm a conniving little schemer like Three."

"Your actions are what indict you, not me." At least Three had the decency to be upfront about it.

"Me?" Her eyes flashed. "You're the married man tempting women into empty corridors to seduce them."

"Not women – singular," his voice came out hard. "And you're the one who brought us here." Oz, he wanted to kiss her and shake her all at once.

"You're the one who kissed me."

"You're the one who liked it." She flinched as if he'd struck her. For a moment, they stood, nose to nose, breathless with indignation and too angry at the other person's anger to bother with words.

She had to see this was wrong. She had to.

Her jaw tilted up, and he knew. She would go through with it, like she'd made him. Her precious Nessa's bid it, so to hell with anyone else she crushed in her wake. His feelings, Aruc's friendship, worth less than the price of Nessa's nod. It stung more than it should, knowing where he stood.

"Right. Well. If I've driven you to Aruc in desperation to rid yourself of me, allow me to offer a remedy." He stormed off, and though she called for him, for once he let her be the one left behind.

It was petty, and it did little to ease his feelings.

"Son."

Oh, for the love of Lurline! How did his father find him now? Here?

He spoke over his shoulder, "Not now, please, father." He couldn't handle more flung at him. Oz knows he didn't make any more of a priority for his father than he did for Elphaba. No one chose him.

He didn't have to turn to feel his father's frown. Silence. He debated playing ignorant and heading off, but all his life had ingrained in him that the earlier the punishment was received, the less it entailed.

He took a shuddering breath to compose himself and turned. "Alright then. What is pressing? What tragic error have I made now? War because I didn't finish my potatoes?"

His father absorbed the outburst without expression. "Finished?"

No, he wanted to rail, but he nodded.

"Please come to my office."

"Now?"

"Now."

He swiped a hand in his hair. "There's no need for power plays. I've-"

"Fiyero!" He shuddered to a stop at the king's raised voice. His father never shouted; he seethed. Fiyero's teeth snapped shut with a click. He followed his father meekly in silence up to the office. "Shut the door."

He kept its solid presence at his back. "What is it, Father?"

His father shook his head. "I ought to have been clearer. Befriend, Three, yes, but not at the expense of your marriage. We mustn't give them an opening to think her disposable to you."

His marriage. His damned all marriage.

Fiyero let his head clunk against the door. So much for his imagined success. "I can't win. If I tolerate her, I'm a puppet, and if I don't, I'm what…inviting assassination?" He closed his eyes. "And no matter what, war with somebody." He shook his head. "One idiot prince doesn't have that much power."

"Heavy lies the crown-"

Fiyero pushed off. "Right, well, understood. I've bungled another attempt, and I've got to clean up my mess." He shoved through the door without dismissal, and his father called after him.

But he didn't turn back. He needed to punch things. Best not to do that in his father's office. He'd slink back in the morning and beg his apologies then, after he'd gotten a hold of himself.

As he stormed by the large windows by the stair landing, he saw the pair settled so comfortably in the garden. Aruc's fingers wound through her hair, and her head pillowed on his shoulder. She looked up at Aruc sweetly and pressed a tender kiss to his cheek.

Punching a tree. Definitely.

Fiyero told himself not to do it, not to go out there, but then he was storming through the gardenias and bellowing at them. "I can't believe it. You were serious?"

They spun to face him, and she had the decency to pull away.

He thundered across the garden to jut right into her personal space. "I didn't believe you would really- you can just use him like that? What, to play him against me? Or do I really matter that little to you?"

Aruc spun to him, eyes wide at his outburst. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't try that." His pulse pounded in his ears. He hadn't thought her truly capable of this. Oz, he'd been a damned fool. "I saw you. Saw you with him."

Her hand found her hip. "Saw me what?"

"Throw yourself at him." He spun on his friend, mad at him, too, for being so gullible. "And you. Do you really think she's suddenly fallen head over heels in love with you? After, what, over a month of dismissing you?"

"You've got it wrong, mate." Aruc set a calming hand on his shoulder, and Fiyero flung it off.

"No, you have. She doesn't love you, Aruc. She loves-" Elphaba's eyes resembled saucers, but Aruc grabbed his arm.

"I know," his friend interrupted. "I know she doesn't want me. That's what I mean. You've got it all wrong."

Fiyero rocked back. "But?"

"I apologized for pressuring her, however innocently, and she accepted." Aruc sent her a look, and she snapped a nod. "Whatever you saw was just an expression of friendship." The concern in his friend's expression swelled a tsunami of guilt through Fiyero so hard he swayed back.

"So for Lurline's sake, shut up," she hissed, eyes wide and warning.

Fiyero stared between them. The ground felt unsettled beneath his feet. He'd misunderstood. She hadn't betrayed him.

"Right. Well then. Um, sorry to interrupt." He tried to smile, and from their reaction, failed.

Aruc offered a hand. "Don't worry about it." Fiyero clasped it in a silent apology, and Aruc gave a quick nod.

Elphaba grimaced. "Okay, goodnight, Aruc."

"Night, Miss Elphaba. I'm glad we took our walk." They shared a look that sent Fiyero's stomach rolling again. "Thank you. For everything." She pecked a kiss to Aruc's cheek that drew Fiyero's hands back into a fist, especially at his friend's grin.

"With such sweet payment, how could I refuse?"

Fiyero pressed his lips tight not to say his thoughts: Go away. Go away. Go away.

Aruc clapped his shoulder as he passed him. "My door is open should you need it. Either of you." Honestly, Fiyero had never done anything in his life good enough to deserve such a friend. But he willed the boy to disappear with every fiber of his being.

When Aruc's retreat reached beyond earshot, Elphaba shoved Fiyero hard. "What's the matter with you? Why don't you just come out and say that we're-"

"That we're what?" He drug a hand through his hair. "You try to drive me crazy with jealousy, then demand I love your sister. You lead me this way and that, pushing me away and dragging me closer. You drag me into a marriage with your sister and use it as excuse to push me away. So what are we? What are we really? I'd love to know."

She glared at him. "So it's all my fault."

He flung out a hand. "That we're suffering the penalty without the crime? Yes."

"So I'm just supposed to give in and embrace this awful idea headfirst because you're deprived?" She huffed. "Why don't you see your little admirer about that? Or better yet, your wife?"

"You should be my wife," he growled. "You. You should be the one I share my life with."

She sighed. "This again?"

"Yes, again." He paced, desperation warring in his expression. "Again, and again, until I get you to see reason. We belong together."

"No matter who that hurts."

"What about who you hurt?" Fiyero tipped his head back at the sudden stab of emotion. "Oz, Elphaba, this is killing me. Can't you see that?"

"It's you or Nessa. I'm doomed either way."

He shook his head. "This can't be better. It can't. How can she be happy? Is she?" Elphaba's silence gave answer enough. "Shouldn't someone be happy in this whole mess?"

"So make her happy."

He caught her hand. "I meant you. You can't tell me I don't make you happy."

"Not at her expense."

It broke his heart. She chose her sister, always. They'd be locked in this forever unless one of them could let go. Like she'd tried tonight. But Oz, even the thought…"I can't lose you," he begged. "Please."

She didn't move, and he used the opportunity to kiss her. He kissed her forehead, cheeks, eyelids, rained featherlight kisses of worship with the very real fear that this might be his last opportunity.

For too long she stayed frozen, until doubted flooded him with fears too overwhelming to acknowledge. He pulled back, ready to admit defeat, but she leaned into the space he'd left to stay close.

"See," he shut his eyes tight against the world. "You want this, too."

She whispered, "I don't want to want it."

"I know." He ran a hand down her cheek. "Me either."

He felt so out of control tonight. What happened to his practiced callousness? His cool façade? Tonight he swirled on a boat without a rudder straight into those raging tsunamis. He so longed for dry land.

She caught his shirt in her hands, pulling him closer, and he wrapped her tightly in his arms. Her face tipped to his, and though he wanted more than anything to kiss her, he waited. He needed her to be a partner in this. He needed her to close the distance this time. He needed her to choose him.

She shifted, and he thought she might not.

But then her arms wound around his neck, and her lips slid a warm kiss to his. That gave all the permission he needed. He buried his hand in her hair, kissing her hard and fierce as she ought to be kissed. She returned the intensity, clutching him tighter still.

All the fear and guilt and ache flowed through that kiss to be purified by a fierce, unending love for her. He couldn't get enough. After so much turmoil, she felt like home, like redemption, and he didn't care what anyone else thought. Every cell in his being knew, he belonged with her.

He crushed her to him, lost in the feel of her, when he heard a twig snap.

The world rushed back, as did the stupidly public place he romanced her in. He looked up, and his blood froze. Unaware, Elphaba tried to tip his face back to her, and he swallowed hard.

"Stop, Elphaba," he whispered. "Now."

She dragged herself back and followed his gaze. There, leaning against the gate with the most infuriatingly smug grin he'd known stood his worst nightmare.

Three caught their gaze and sauntered forward, her curling smile shining slyly in the moonlight. "Good evening. At least, it seems to be for some of us."