The orders Fiyero slapped on his father's desk processed so quickly that the rare herbs arrived in a couple days. If his father noticed their addition, he said nothing. Not that it mattered. Fiyero felt he could easily explain it away in his task to woo Three's friendship.

However, Elphaba did not share his optimism. He collected the vials and paid the apothecary all while shadowed by her mutinous glare and deep frown. "Blackmail always worsens when you give in."

"You've experience as such?"

She glowered at the vials in answer.

He cocked an eyebrow. "Are you ready to tell your sister then?" He barely bothered to pause for her silence. "When you are, let me know, and I'll tell Three where she can shove her herbs."

She set a hand on his around the vials. "Can't you hold on to them for a couple days? She won't expect you to have found them already."

"To what purpose?" he sighed. He shook his head. "Today or tomorrow, you won't be ready, and I won't change my mind."

His eyes begged her to prove him wrong, but she didn't deny it. At least she didn't lie to him.

She paced. "And when she asks something else? Something immoral? Or dangerous? What if she has you murder someone for slighting her mother's cousin's brother?"

He chuckled at her dismay and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. "You worry too much."

"You worry too little."

He snorted. Yes, what a charmed life he danced through, without a care in sight. "Because," he murmured against her skin, "now I have you to do my worrying for me."

"Give me the stupid herbs. I'll give them to Three before dinner." He pulled back to study her face. That was quite a change of attitude. She bristled at his distrust and barked, "I will. But she won't ask me for any 'favors,' that I can guarantee."

The two made an explosive combination at best, and he'd rather not expose her to shrewd Three a second more than necessary. He dropped a kiss in her outstretched hand and pocketed the vials himself. "I'm touched that you would be so protective of my charity."

"I still say this is a terrible idea."

He sent her a sideways look. "Yes, that worked well when I said so. Clearly I'm swayed to your point of view."

She shoved away for him. "You want me to say it? You were right: I shouldn't have pressured you into marrying Nessa." She rubbed a hand over her forehead. "I've only made things worse. You think I don't know that? That it's not blaringly obvious to me?"

He pulled her back to him. "That's enough. It's not your fault." She shot him a look. "At least not alone. We all knew, and we let it come to this." He smoothed both hands over her arms. "That's why I think we'd be better off clearing the air. The longer we try to hide this, the worse we make it."

"See," she pulled back and flung out her arm. "It's my fault we're hiding it, too."

He shrugged. "Then stop."

Her eyes drifted, considering, but then a frown crumpled her face. Her eyes fell. "Not yet," she whispered. "Soon, just…not yet."

He nodded. He understood that pit of dread. He didn't relish the moment his father's disappointment and Aruc's hurt would stab into his gut. But somehow he thought her reticence came more that to stand up, speak the words aloud, and claim him as her own, she'd have to acknowledge that she deserved love. That Nessa didn't have more inherent value. Despite Elphaba's armor of self-confidence, he still hadn't convinced her of that truth.

"I know." He brushed a light kiss over her lips. "And so we'll wait until you're ready."

"What if I never am?"

He shut his eyes to that thought. "Then we'll wait forever." And every day, the more he feared that's how long it would take.

She drew a deep breath and said emphatically, "Tomorrow." He dropped his eyes, recognizing the tone. Not a lie…but not the truth. She pressed on, false confidence lacing the words. "I'll tell Nessa after her morning prayers. Maybe she'll be more forgiving then."

Her words illogically hurt, so close to his wish that he felt its absence all the more. But he forced a nod.

"You don't believe me."

He kissed the tip of her nose. "I believe that you believe you."

"I will." She framed his face with her hands. "Hold on to the herbs for one more day."

He kissed her sweetly, long and gentle. "I can't risk it, love. The herbs are harmless, and if you do feel ready tomorrow, we'll be no worse off. But if you don't-"

She pressed into his chest, eyes narrowed, "I will!"

"A harmless precaution then." He pulled back and led her into the hall. The best way to end this argument would be to finish the task.

They turned the corner to his mother in conversation with Aruc and Three. He pushed aside disturbing thoughts and headed straight for them.

"Oh, there you are," the queen chimed. She rested a hand on Aruc's bicep and linked her free hand with Elphaba's left. "I understand Master Aruc has made known his affections." Fiyero frowned, but he might have been wallpaper for all she noticed.

Aruc tugged at his collar, cheeks an impossible red. "I'm afraid Miss Elphaba has also made known her reservations."

"Nonsense." His mother patted his arm and steeled her gaze on Elphaba. Fiyero worried that there might be another wedding to evade on the horizon. Still, priorities. He begged his excuses and slipped by to subtly grip Three's elbow.

The winnowy girl followed the dozen paces he hoped would ensure privacy with her eyes coyly drooped behind her lashes. "Yes, my prince?"

He removed the vials and palmed them to her. Her eyes widened, and he worried a beat that her tightly tailored dress might not have pockets. But she disappeared them somewhere without his notice, and her hand on his arm was suddenly empty.

"So soon. My thanks," she simpered. "Glad to know we are in such capable hands." She trailed a finger over his thumb. "Mm, such large, capable hands."

His skin crawled at the touch, and he retreated to the group.

His mother and Nessa still henpecked Elphaba into considering Aruc, all while the boy in question looked like he'd rather eat a live squirrel. Elphaba's crossed arms and tense jaw contrasted the courteous words. "I thank you for your concern, but I must insist."

Her protests, as anticipated, fell on deaf ears. Elphaba turned wide eyes to Fiyero, and he toed back, fingers splayed. She may never have gone up against his mother before, but he knew better than to intervene. The two formidable women locked in a battle of wills set his nerves on edge.

Enough that he didn't register Three still draped on his arm, fingers subtly brushing his abdomen until Nessa glared. "What are you doing with my husband?"

"I'm sorry?" Three raised eye eyebrows in mock innocence, but still didn't release his arm. "What do you mean?"

He fought a sigh and untangled himself. What a pointless argument. He clearly had no interest in either girl.

But Nessa persisted, "Don't lie to me. I saw you together."

Three tipped a condescending smile. "Us? No, you're mistaken."

"I'm not blind," his wife hissed. She turned on him. "What did you give her?"

"Oh, krytka, that was nothing." Three's smile curled over her face, and he flinched at the condescending pet name she wouldn't understand. "He brought me some herbs to use in my cosmetics. He's such a dear, thoughtful man, isn't he?"

Nessa snarled, "Don't think I don't know about you."

"About me? I can't imagine."

"You may have him seduced with your harlotry, but I'm not so blind." Nessa's face twisted in an ugly sneer. "The Unnamed God rewards the good and punishes the wicked. This day your sins…"

She continued in kind, and Fiyero couldn't stand to listen to the judgmental diatribe. He abandoned them to escort his mother with a whispered, "If you desire a romance, ought we not give them some privacy?"

He half-hauled her in the dining room, and she frowned. "My love, whatever is your hurry?"

"Starving. You know me."

She smiled at him with a warm chuckle. "Always such a healthy appetite." She tilted his chin to the side. "You look a little flushed, dear. Are you feeling ill?"

He shook his head. Only sick of secrets.

"Must get your rest. I don't need you as worn out as your father." She smoothed a hand over his cheek, and he slid out her chair. By the time he turned, Nessa stood beside her chair, and he dutifully helped her sit.

"All resolved?" he asked, managing to keep the condescension from his voice.

She sniffed and puckered her lips.

Three hurried after, hips swaying like a pendulum, and Fiyero lifted an eyebrow. She slowed, and he held out her chair without comment. "What are you doing?" he whispered, pushing her and her chair in.

"That is a question for your Miss Elphaba," she snapped. Fiyero had a sudden fear that he was going to regret leaving them alone. But he'd given her the vials, so he ought to be able to soothe whatever problem away.

Aruc came back with Elphaba in tow, both covered in wine and grinning. Whatever Fiyero had expected, it hadn't been that. Looks like he had missed the fun. She pursed her lips at him in mock annoyance, and he relaxed into a genuine smile.

Nessa snapped at him, "What are you smiling at?"

"Huh?" He glanced back at his wife. "Oh. Elphaba and Aruc's accident. Are you certain they're a good match?"

"Don't lie," she hissed, and he frowned in confusion. "I know where you were looking. Can't you admit it for once?" Great, he was stuck between the two angry girls.

He kept his voice even. This escalation could get dangerous in such a public setting. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."

"I mean Three!" As Nessa raised her voice, she attracted curious stares from the others. "I know what I saw. Don't try to cover it up any more!"

Three cocked her head, irritation lining her overdressed eyes with an expectant tap of her fingers. He leaned back. How to disarm this? Nessa was spiraling, and fast. "I wasn't. What is the matter with you?"

"With me?" Nessa's face had turned a bright red, and Elphaba rushed to set a hand on her shoulder. "What's the matter with me? Ask your little courtesan there."

"How dare-" Three pushed to her feet with a cold glare and clicked her glass. "Pardon me, your majesties, but I have most unsettling news."

Fiyero's stomach plummeted. This couldn't be happening.

"I regret to inform you, I have learned of some grave misdeeds that I feel honor-bound to bring to light as they concern those seated in this room."

He turned cold eyes on her, and hissed with all the authority he could muster, "Sit down."

"I won't be insulted like this," she hissed. He gripped her elbow, but she tipped up her chin and refused to acknowledge him. Nessa shook off Elphaba's hand and fumbled to stand. Three flicked a sharp glare at her, and continued, "I have discovered that the prince has been seduced into an illicit and unseemly affair - by Miss Elphaba."

It landed like a punch to the gut, and his hands clenched involuntarily around his fork. The prongs stung, but he barely felt it. A roomful of eyes swung to land on Elphaba, and she paled. Nessa, finally up, burst out, "You liar! Don't you dare try to blame this on my sister."

Somehow no one looked at him, and he felt a sting of annoyance that no one showed any surprise that he might be an adulterous philanderer.

"Elphaba?" Frexspar frowned. "I don't see how that's likely." Fiyero's fists curled at the implication, but what good would it do to defend her and convince them all of the truth?

"I saw them with my own eyes," Three insisted, "pressed close in the garden and kissing as a man does with none but his lover."

He couldn't breathe. This could not be worse. What could he do? What?

His father cleared his throat, but when he spoke, it was with the king's voice. "These are very grievous allegations, Miss Three. Are you certain that's what you saw?"

"Absolutely."

"Liar!" Nessa exploded. "She's the one seducing Fiyero!"

Three sent her a haughty, pitying look. "I am not the sole witness, Your Majesty." She waved forward a steward, who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. "He has seen them, too."

"Speak honestly," the king said. "What have you seen on this matter?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. I saw the girl sneak into our prince's room in the dead of night." The phrasing, something about it struck him.

"Are you sure it was her?"

"Hard to miss the green, sir. Even in the dark." He ducked his head. "My apologies, miss."

Our prince. Of course. Three had found a Traditionalist steward, or turned one, but either way, the fallout would reverberate throughout the web of those who believed him bewitched by foreigners. He pressed his lips together. One tragedy at a time.

"A misunderstanding." Aruc waved a hand. "She helped me take him back to his room the night of the bachelor party, that's all."

Fiyero frowned. He hadn't remembered that. Was Aruc trying to save her? Lying wasn't a wise course, but then, so much of that night he remembered only in impressions. Unless he had literally transformed into a falcon and flown up to her room.

His confusion echoed on the faces around. "Why would you enlist her help?"

"To get him out of her room." The words registered, and Aruc flushed. "Though I'm certain he meant to find Nessa."

"Nessa?" Frexspar sent him an outraged glare. "Before the wedding? Why?" Everyone seemed to share a look, palming necks and clearing throats. "Outrageous! He sought to…defile my daughter before her wedding?"

Nessa shared an appalled expression, and he wondered how exactly she expected him to sleep with her after the wedding. Did all her grousing come because he hadn't lain beside her and watched her drift off to slumber? Was she really so naïve?

His father pinched the bridge of his nose. "Does it matter when he's married her since? Surely he's undone any potential harm to her reputation or morals."

"That's no excuse!" Frexspar's vein throbbed in his neck. "He tried to corrupt my daughter!"

Fiyero rose with a weary sigh. He could only hope his words didn't escalate the conflict, but the way things were going, he had to do something before it spiraled too far out of control. "I did not try to sneak into Nessa's room and seduce her."

"Then what were you…?"

He had no answer. His eyes fell to Elphaba. They had to confess. Had to. It had already come to light, and the longer they delayed now, the worse the penance. He'd hoped for private, and already this forum would demand a larger penalty. But if they lied now and tried to recant…

He begged her silently for permission, but she stared unwaveringly at the king, glossy-eyed in horror.

Aruc attempted again to rescue them. "I don't think Fiyero was thinking very clearly. We might have had a bit too much to drink."

Frexspare threw up his hands. "Debauchery, too. Why am I not surprised?"

"Enough!" His father's disappointment drenched Fiyero from across the room. So much for his reputation. Irresponsible and immature it would remain. His father kept his eyes on Fiyero but addressed Frexspar with a firm tone. "He's married the girl, and that's that. Whatever sins you might view my son guilty of, they are between you and your god. I am more concerned with the allegations of a more grievous crime."

Finally, he turned, and the steward blanched to be on the receiving end of those intense eyes.

"Is this the only witness you bring?"

"I beg your apologies," the man half-bowed, "but this was not the night Master Aruc has explained. I saw them at least a week before the wedding."

Oh.

Oh, no.

This was going to be bad. He steeled himself for the crash, recognizing they had just entered freefall.

His father turned his eyes on Elphaba, and she tilted her jaw up. That fierce warrior princess he'd first envisioned her as materialized before his eyes, unafraid and unyielding. His father asked the question that would rain damnation on them all. "Is there any truth to these allegations? Did you visit my son in his bedchambers?"

Without reservation, she answered, "I did."

"At night?" She nodded. "And in an improper manner?"

She hesitated, and Fiyero's breath caught.

"No," Aruc interrupted, shaking his head. "No, there's been some mistake. There's got to have been." He turned to her, confidence in a clarification shining in his eyes, and she dropped her gaze to her hands. The smile faltered, and Aruc spun to face him. "Fiyero?"

His friend, his very best friend, looked at him with all the trust in the world, and Fiyero had broken it. He might not have lied, but he had definitely broken faith. The weight of that betrayal shamed him. He had no excuse. He hung his head, and Aruc jerked back as if slapped.

Elphaba spoke, a calm he knew she couldn't feel steeling her words. "There's no mistake. Except ours."

"You?" Nessa turned on her, shock and horror and disgust lancing the single syllable. "All this time, he's been cheating with you? My own sister?" She shook her head and leaned back so fast she nearly toppled. Elphaba reached for her, but she pulled away. "Ugh, you're disgusting. Both of you. I confided in you, and you never said…you're my sister. How could you do something like that?"

"I'm so sorry." Elphaba, the proud warrior, melted immediately into the desperate sister, begging for absolution. "I never, never meant to hurt you. I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't stand the thought of you hating me. Please, I swear I tried not to-"

Nessa shouted over her, red-faced and hysterical. "How could you not mean to hurt me? You had an affair with my husband. In what twisted, delusional world would that not hurt me?" She blanched as the thought of them. "Oh, I think I'm going to be ill."

Frexspar fled to her side, but it was his father, every inch of him firmly the king, that drew Fiyero's attention as he stood, solemn judgment suffocating the room.

"So." The king looked between the pair. "Neither of you deny these charges then?"

Fiyero studied the ground and drew a measured breath. He waited for the moment to pass, unable to prevent it. Would these ripples drown the duck?

"Look at me, son, and answer for yourself!" The words hadn't been shouted, but they might as well have been. His father glared at him, and with a sudden fire, Fiyero exploded back.

"Yes. Yes, I fell in love with a wonderful girl, and we were unlucky enough to have been-"

"Romanticized excuses!" His father snarled. "You are the crown prince. You have responsibilities. Obligations to your countrymen that go before your own selfish desires."

"So I've heard all my life," Fiyero interrupted for the first time in his memory. He drew a trembling breath. Fear and indignation and resolve sparked through him, and he tried to gather himself. He clutched Elphaba's hand like a string to his kite. "But I love her more than anything."

She blushed at the intensity of his expression, the truth of his words.

"Apparently," the king bit out in a frosty tone. "Certainly more than your duty to your crown."

Fiyero shut his eyes, feeling the emotion boiling in him, contradictory rage and guilt swirling him toward a precipice that he wasn't allowed. He was never allowed. But Oz, how much could one person take?

"Our people come first. Always. Have I taught you nothing?" The king rubbed a heavy hand over his eyelids. "Take my foolish son to his quarters until I decide what to do with him."

Two guards gripped Fiyero's biceps, but he didn't struggle as they led him from the room. They released him at the door with an apologetic grimace. He knew better than to think that meant they would give him leniency, prince or no.

Fiyero laid on his bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking of all the ways that disaster had gone off course. He'd been sent off to bed like a naughty child before he'd been able to defend Elphaba. He could only imagine, all her worst nightmares had reared their ugly heads right there in front of her. He wished he could shield her from it somehow.

The door opened without a knock, and his father raged in like a summer storm.

"Get up."

Fiyero complied, a sullen tick to his chin.

"What in Oz were you thinking? Are you daft?" There was no need for a response. He seethed in silence. "You don't even wait a week before you're in another girl's bed? And her sister. Lurline. I thought you were past this adolescent behavior."

"It's not like that."

His father advanced on his window. "And while you were too busy thinking with your pants, you gave away our resupply orders."

Fiyero rolled his eyes. "I didn't give -"

"We found them in her room. With all your concerns about Frexspar, you didn't think he might have his daughter manipulating you? He's made clear how disposable the poor girl is."

Fiyero frowned. No. It couldn't be. "Elphaba wouldn't have done that. You're mistaken." His father absorbed his certainty with as much weight as a toddler's.

"Or maybe the Traditionalists have been right all along. Maybe you have been bewitched." His father pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's the only thing I can think of that would compel you to be this brainless, this utterly stupid and irresponsible."

"Oh?" Fiyero crossed his arms. "Here I thought my head has always been stuffed with straw."

His father rounded on him, a hand away at most, so that every valley of his forehead could be measured clearly. "You don't get to throw around your attitude, boy. If you weren't so spoiled and selfish and foolish, if you'd done as you were told, you wouldn't have to feel so hurt now. You've muddled up everything, risked all our peoples, for your stupid hormones."

"My hormones," Fiyero repeated bitterly. His jaw clenched. Right. What could an idiot like him know about love?

"I thought you'd matured. I'd hoped you were growing into your responsibilities." He shook his head. "I hadn't thought to specify not to sleep with your wife's sister."

"Too busy sending me off to give up my future."

His father stared at him sternly. "What did you say?"

The damn had burst, and it flooded out. "All you do is pile responsibilities on me, criticisms and quizzes, one after another until you see when I break. I didn't do this to hurt you. I love her." His father rolled his eyes. "I don't just want to sleep with her. I love her. I'm not a child, and I know what love means. Though I'm not sure you do."

His father rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'm a tyrant. Never mind your duty. Never mind your obligations. Never mind your future as king. Off you go to prance about because you love her." He swept to the door. "Well, it won't be an issue. She leaves tomorrow."

Tomorrow? "Father, wait."

Fiyero raced after him, but his father waved a hand and the door shut behind him. How odd that it shut so softly when it slammed, with such finality, an end to his future.