Opening the ball and answering approximately a million questions for a million different reporters was not the end of Glinda's duties. Actually, it was just the beginning – after all, one doesn't throw a ball unless one intends to dance at it. Dancing is more than just a frivolous pastime, Elphie, Glinda had told Elphaba the evening before. The ballroom is where connections are established, offers discussed, alliances made. The dance floor sometimes requires just as much strategy as the chessboard. And that evening, she was about to play with some of Oz's most prominent figures.

"Miss Glinda. May I have the honor?"

A young man bowed before Glinda and she smiled in recognition.

"Well, if it isn't Vaan Belmont Vespertine III," she said, accepting his hand and allowing him to lead her into the gentle waltz. "Always a pleasure to see you."

"Likewise." He smiled. "There are few ladies in Gillikin – or in all of Oz, for that matter – whose company I find more delightful than yours. And now, it seems, you've truly risen to power, isn't that so?"

"I just hope I can do some good," she said, and surprised herself by noticing it wasn't just false modesty. "And what better place to start than by the Wizard's side?"

Vaan was still smiling, but Glinda noticed something strange in his eyes.

"Right…" he said, lowering his voice. "Glinda, I want to warn you."

Glinda's eyebrows shot up, but she quickly forced her face to go back to a neutral smile.

"Warn me?" she asked quietly. "Warn against what?"

He sighed.

"I know you're an intelligent young woman who doesn't let herself get tricked easily. You must have realized that things here are not always what they seem. Sometimes, they're quite the opposite."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to find out the details for yourself," he said, shaking his head. "But if you truly want to do something good, to make a difference, to fight for what's right – you can't continue doing what you're doing. Open your eyes. In the long run, willful ignorance is no better than evil intentions."

She looked at him incredulously.

"Excuse me," she whispered and a hint of indignance colored her voice. "I know we've known each other for a long time, but I don't think you have any right to lecture me on morality."

"I know I don't," he said, a little too loud, then winced at his own indiscretion. "I know. I have always considered you a friend, but I realize that we're not close enough for you to trust me. But what I've told you are not just my concerns. I'm mostly here on behalf of someone else; someone I think you'd be more inclined to listen to."

"And who could that be?" she asked dubiously.

"I think you can guess. Not so long ago, he was your teacher."

Glinda stared at him for a moment.

"So, let me get this straight: Shilah – who you, Oz knows how, are acquainted with – sent you here so you can deliver his morally superior lecture to me?"

Vaan winced at her bitter tone.

"It's nothing personal, Glinda. We just want what's best for you and for Oz, that's all."

"Well," Glinda retorted, "you can tell his moral highness Shilah that his days as my teacher are over. I am my own person and I know what I'm doing. If he can't trust me to do the right thing, then he's not the person I thought he was."

Although her response didn't seem to satisfy him, Vaan took a while to consider her words.

"Okay," he finally said as the song was coming to an end. "Obviously, I can't force you into anything. Just please – keep your eyes open."

"I intend to," she said coldly, curtseying in front of Vaan. He bowed and was about to walk away, but stopped when he heard her say his name.

"Vaan, wait! Is he…" She bit her lip, unable to retain her icy demeanor. "Is he okay?"

Vaan looked surprised for a moment, then chuckled softly.

"I'll tell him you asked."

•••

Elphaba was still a little dizzy from spinning around on the dance floor when she realized that something was up. Fiyero, who had been smiling at her widely just seconds before, was now looking at something over her shoulder; face pale, eyes wide open in fear.

"Fiyero?" Elphaba said, putting her hand on his shoulder, and Fiyero jolted in surprise. "What's wrong?"

"I…" he mumbled. "I think I need some air."

Elphaba stood frozen in confusion for a few seconds before gathering herself and quickly following Fiyero out into the nearby balcony. She found him leaning against the wall, clutching his chest, as if he had a hard time breathing.

"Hey," she said, carefully moving closer to him. "It's okay. It's alright, Yero."

She took his trembling hand and gently placed it over her heart, pressing her own palm to his chest and feeling his heart pound frantically.

"It's okay," she repeated softly. "Just breathe."

Gradually, Fiyero's heartbeat and breathing became steadier, and he slid down the wall into a crouching position, rubbing his temples.

"I'm so sorry."

"What?" Elphaba said, surprised, sitting down next to him. "Fiyero, what is it?"

He looked up at her reluctantly and his eyes were filled with shame.

"I don't think I can do it, Fae," he said quietly. "I don't think I can join the guard."

Elphaba stared at him for a moment.

"What—? The guard? What are you talking about?"

"I thought I could do it. I thought I was strong enough, but I'm not. Back there…" He glanced back into the ballroom and took a deep, strained breath. "I saw someone I recognized. A guard. He was there in the cornfield, that time when… when…"

He shook his head, burying his face in his hands, and Elphaba felt a painful sting of guilt.

Why didn't you think about that?! she cursed herself internally. You shouldn't have let this happen. You shouldn't have let him come here. You shouldn't have let him follow you into that cornfield. You shouldn't have let him leave with you in the first place. You should have protected him. He got tortured because of you. He almost died because of you.

Fiyero seemed to have misinterpreted her silence.

"I'm really sorry, Fae," he said. "The one thing I was supposed to be useful for, and I can't even do that…"

"Yero…"

"I'm so sorry—"

"Fiyero!" Elphaba exclaimed. "Do you ever let anybody else talk?!"

The callback to his words from unbelievably long ago almost made Fiyero chuckle, despite his shaken state.

"First of all," Elphaba said, taking his hand and entwining her fingers with his, "this is not something you should ever feel the need to apologize to me for."

"But—"

"Second," she pressed on, "Yero… I never wanted you to join the guard."

Fiyero stared at her.

"What? But I thought… I mean, that would be the only logical thing… I hadn't even considered…"

"Yero, of course I didn't want you to join!" Elphaba said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I would never want you to relive that. I certainly don't want to relive that."

The memory of seeing Fiyero in the emerald uniform made her stomach turn. Silence, witch! She shuddered.

"So that's it then?" Fiyero asked quietly, looking away. "What am I supposed to do now? Just sit back and be useless?"

She tilted his chin and gently guided him back to face her.

"What are you supposed to do? Go back to Shiz. Keep an eye on my sister. Make sure people don't start believing in lies. Make as many allies as possible. Finish your education. Represent your culture." She hesitated a moment, then snickered softly, rolling her eyes as a faint blush colored her cheeks. "Be my prince charming."

Fiyero looked at her incredulously, but something in his eyes changed.

"Really?" he said, shaking his head. "I'm at my most vulnerable and you use my own sappy tricks against me? That's cold, Fae."

Elphaba chuckled as he wrapped his arms around her, bringing her close to himself and leaning his cheek against the top of her head.

"We should head back inside," he mumbled after a while. "Otherwise people might notice we're missing, and I dread to think what kinds of rumors the press would invent…"

"Do I look like I care what people say about me?"

He raised his hands defensively.

"Your call. Just don't say I didn't warn you."