Chapter Text
The poor girl standing in front of her looked like she was about to faint.
Elphaba glanced towards Madame Morrible. Surely someone should intervene? But Madame Morrible was looking down at the piece of paper in her hand, seemingly trying hard not to notice. “Miss Elinor Penwood.” The girl curtseyed, keeping her eyes fixed demurely on the parquet floor. She took Nessa’s hand and kissed it. Nessa leaned close to her and whispered something that made the girl smile. Then the girl got to her feet and proceeded with small stately steps back the way she’d come, over to the double doors at the other side of the throne room where her mother was no doubt waiting.
Father shifted towards her slightly and Elphaba took a couple of steps forward so she could hear him better. “How many more do you suppose we have left?”
Elphaba shrugged. The drawing room had been in session for nearly ninety minutes and still the girls came, alone and in pairs, accompanied by their mothers and fathers and older sisters, dressing in outfits that were worth enough money to buy a house. To be presented at court, to afford a dress and a feathered headdress and a carriage to carry a girl over the dirty cobblestones of the Emerald City, required an almost obscene amount of wealth. These girls came from the wealthiest families in Oz, most of them Gillikinese. Elphaba’s stomach turned when she thought of all the money that had been wasted in preparation for this day alone, when a new crop of marriage minded matriarchs launched their young daughters onto the market like cattle. She thought that she could live in the Emerald City for the rest of her life and never get used to the endless thoughtless expenditure.
Luckily, she wouldn’t have to stay here for the rest of her life. Once Nessa was old enough to rule in her own right, Elphaba could go back to Quadling Country, back to the comforting heat and moisture of the marshes, back to Qhoyre and its brightly painted buildings and the breeze off the harbor that tasted sharply of salt. Father could come with her and they could move back into the rambling old house with a view out over the sea and she could write her books while Father worked on his inventions. But Nessa was only eighteen, still young enough to need a regent—and so Elphaba would stay in the Emerald City to look after both her and Father.
Some mornings, in the drowsy moments between sleep and waking, she could almost convince herself that she was still in Quadling Country—until she realized she couldn’t hear sails flapping on the wind or the laughter of the sailors as they returned to the ships after a night ashore or the shouts of the fishmongers and clam sellers. Then she remembered the letter that Nessa had received, four months ago: the old king of Oz, Eminent Peerless Thropp, had finally died and Nessa was his nearest living (legitimate) relative. Madame Morrible, one of the Eminent’s old advisors, had arrived the next day. Less than seventy two hours later they were on the road north.
Nessa had asked Elphaba if she ever felt upset that she had been passed over, since she was Melena Thropp’s eldest child—but not her legitimate child. Elphaba could honestly say she wasn’t jealous in the slightest. She’d been the result of a dalliance Melena had with a traveling salesman while her husband was off on business in Gillikin. Elphaba might never have known that if Frexspar Thropp hadn’t fallen off his horse and died three months after Nessa was born. After a suitable mourning period Elphaba’s father, Oscar Diggs, had arrived back in town with a cart full of his inventions and the intent to woo Melena properly this time. He’d sold patent to some of his inventions and had enough to support them all—maybe not in the splendor that Melena was accustomed to as the Eminent’s daughter, but Melena hadn’t cared. They had run away to Quadling Country with the girls and none of them had ever looked back.
Until now.
Elphaba had tried for months to call the presentations off. “The whole practice is barbaric,” she’d said at a last ditch effort at breakfast, stirring saffron into her tea. “These girls are treated like they’re chattel.”
“I think it sounds quite exciting,” Nessa said, only half looking up from her novel. “I wish I could be presented.”
“You don’t need to be presented. You’re the Queen, Nessie. Everyone’s presenting themselves to you.”
“But still—it sounds so exciting! Dressing up, coming to the palace, walking down the long aisle with every pair of eyes on you…who knows who might see you? Who knows who might fall in love with you?” Elphaba had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. Nessa had always been a born romantic. Elphaba was not.
“I doubt any matches will be made at the drawing room. They save all that for the ball tonight,” Father said, flipping listlessly through the newspaper and probably wishing he was still in bed. Father almost never got up before noon; he usually worked on his inventions late into the night, unable to sleep. “Phan Hall always hosts the first ball of the season.”
“I still don’t see why I have to attend.” Elphaba knew she sounded like a petulant child, but she couldn’t help it. She’d been looking forward to having some time to herself for once.
“How else are you supposed to meet eligible gentleman?” Nessa asked.
“I am not looking for eligible gentlemen. I am not at all interested in the business of true love—”
“Only because you haven’t met the right person!” Nessa said. “You’re coming with me tonight, Fabala. That’s an order from your queen.”
Elphaba couldn’t help smiling. “You know you’ll always be my little sister, no matter how elevated your position?”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Nessa batted her eyes innocently.
“But if it means that much to you, then of course I’ll go to the ball. I can’t promise I’ll fall in love.”
“That’s all right,” Nessa replied. “You can help me fall in love.” And Elphaba didn’t have any objections to that. She wanted to make sure that Nessa fell in love with the right sort of person anyway: someone who would love her for everything she was and could be, someone who loved her as much as she loved them. Elphaba knew that many people would try to court Nessa because of her position and fortune, not because they truly loved her. Elphaba was clear eyed about life at court. She could look after her.
Mother had said as much, a few hours before she died when Elphaba was eight. “Nessa is your little sister, Elphaba,” she’d said, as if Elphaba hadn’t already known that. “Someday, she’s going to look to you for guidance.”
“I’ll help her, Mother,” Elphaba had said, taking her hand as Mother helped her scramble over an inconveniently large rock in their path. The path to the seashore was littered with stones; by now, they had walked along it so many times that Elphaba knew every rock by sight. She knew which were easy to climb over and which Mother still had to help her with. “I’ll always help her.”
Mother had sighed, stroking her fingers through Elphaba’s hair. “I know you will, darling,” she murmured. Elphaba sometimes wondered if she had known what was going to happen later that day. But she couldn’t have. Elphaba had had this conversation with Father again and again over the years. He told her that she couldn’t possibly have stopped that rip current. He told her it wasn’t her fault.
Elphaba knew better.
So here she was, standing to the side of the dais watching the line of jittery girls be presented to Nessa, checking the clock every five minutes, as if she could make time pass any faster just by thinking about it (she couldn’t). The presentations were supposed to last for two hours, but it took another half an hour just to get through the entire line of girls. By the time they reached the end of the line, Elphaba could sense that her sister was flagging. Nessa would never have admitted it, but Elphaba could see the beads of sweat forming near her hairline, the way her hands shook around the arms of her chair, the way her smile had started to turn plastic around the edges. Elphaba didn’t ask if she wanted to take a break, knowing that Nessa would just say no. She wanted to please these girls, and by extension the rest of Oz, just as much as they wanted to please her.
Elphaba breathed a sigh of relief when the last girl and her mother left and the guests began to file out of the throne room. The air filled with a polite hum of conversation and she listened to a couple standing near the dais talk about the night’s ball at Pfann Hall. “I hear Lady Marcella has ordered nearly fifty different ice sculptures,” the woman said. She didn’t bother to whisper, allowing her voice to carry.
Elphaba had to work not to roll her eyes again. Why could a ball possibly need fifty different ice sculptures, when they were going to melt by morning anyway?
A commotion near the door caught her attention. “Stay here,” she said, placing a hand on Father’s wrist when he tried to come with her. “I’ll go see what’s happening.”
A small group of people was gathered in the hallway, arguing with the guards in front of the throne room. Two of the girls were wearing white dresses with feathers in their hair. “Chistery, what’s going on here?” she asked, even though she could guess well enough.
“They’re late,” Chistery said in his gruff voice. “But they still wish to be presented.”
“I’m afraid that isn’t going to be possible,” Elphaba said. “The ceremony was slated to end half an hour ago.”
“We know, but we got stuck in traffic!” The elder girl in white seemed only moments away from bursting into tears. For a moment Elphaba was tempted to let them through—if Nessa had been there, she would have demanded it. But Nessa badly needed a rest and some peace, and in any case the girls had had plenty of time to arrive on time, or thereabouts.
Elphaba winced. “I’m sorry, but you should have left earlier. All of the other girls have already been presented.”
“Princess Elphaba, is it?” There was a man standing next to the two girls—Elphaba’s age, perhaps a little older, with dark blond hair and bright blue eyes. Elphaba took in the rest of the group as well: a younger girl, perhaps eleven or twelve, with a pink ribbon in her hair; and a woman Elphaba’s age wearing a pale pink dress. She had striking features—high cheekbones, deep brown eyes…and a long, thin scar stretching from just below her eye to just above her chin. The scar didn’t mar her beauty though; if anything, it made her look even more striking. Her deep brown eyes stared into Elphaba’s, their depths unfathomable. “Prince Fiyero Tigelaar.” The prince stuck out a hand for her to shake. Elphaba didn’t take it. “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. My father is the Arjiki chieftain—”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Be that as it may, you’re still quite late.”
“But we were—”
“Doing our hair,” the woman in pink said quickly, flashing Elphaba a practiced smile. Too practiced. “You know how positively time consuming it can be.”
“I don’t, actually.” Elphaba set her jaw so she wouldn’t say something she would regret later. These Gillikinese women were all the same, self centered and convinced that the world revolved around them. None of them would get near Nessa if she had anything to say about it. There had to be some kind of consequences for wasting everyone else’s time.
Fiyero’s brow furrowed. He probably wasn’t used to the word ‘no’ either. “Well, it’s a little more complicated than that—”
“We were doing our hair, dearest. Your hair is so short. You wouldn’t understand,” the woman said, her tone taking on the faintest of edges. She turned back to Elphaba, taking a step forward so she stood in front of the younger girls, as if shielding them. The older one had started to cry and Fiyero handed her a handkerchief. She dabbed at her eyes delicately. “I’m terribly sorry we were late. You’re quite right that we should have left earlier. But my younger siblings have been looking forward to this day for months. It would be a shame if their dreams were to be shattered over something so…trivial.” Her every word was as sweet as syrup. Elphaba didn’t trust a single one of them.
“You think punctuality is a matter of triviality?” Elphaba asked.
Fiyero cleared his throat. “I believe further introductions are in order. This is Miss Upland—Galinda Upland, to be precise—and these are three of her younger sisters: Miss Elladora, Miss Evelina, and Miss Euphemia.” Each of the girls curtsied in turn, though poor Evelina, the other sister waiting to be presented, looked like she would rather be anything else.
Elphaba knew the feeling.
“It’s a pleasure to meet all of you,” she said in the formal tone of voice she’d learned to adopt since coming to the Emerald City. “But I’m afraid it simply won’t be possible for you to be presented today. Times were given out in advance for a reason.” Elladora’s eyes welled up again and Elphaba’s stomach twisted. She reminded herself that Nessa was her first priority, since Oz knew that Nessa didn’t always look out for herself.
“But we came all this way,” the youngest girl, Euphemia, murmured. She seemed to physically deflate, the edges of her pale pink ribbon drooping in the heat.
“I’m sorry. But it simply won’t be possible for you to see the Queen today.” Elphaba couldn’t resist adding “Perhaps if you had spent a little less time on your hair…” She was rewarded by Miss Upland—Galinda—glaring at her.
Fiyero cleared his throat. “Your Highness, I don’t think you quite understand the situation—”
“What is there for me to understand? You thought that the rules of punctuality, of decency, didn’t apply to you because your family is wealthy and powerful? You thought that even though my younger sister has spent more than two hours greeting the other young women who arrived on time that she should have to expend herself further to greet the rest of your family?” Elphaba heard the edge to her voice and knew that it was unnecessary, but she was tired too. Tired of standing, watching the debutantes filter past her in an endless parade. Tired of the Emerald City, where nothing seemed to matter but wealth and how to acquire it. She missed Quadling Country and their house by the sea so much that it was almost a physical ache, and she simply couldn’t bring herself to be understanding to people who clearly wouldn’t be as understanding to Nessa. “There will be other drawing rooms,” she murmured, looking away from Elladora’s stricken face.
“Not until next year,” Elladora whispered.
“You don’t need to be presented to the Queen to be considered out in Society.”
“Your Highness, please be reasonable,” Galinda said, still looking at Elphaba with her hard eyes. Maybe if she had seemed even a little bit chastened at wasting all of their time, Elphaba would have softened. But Galinda Upland didn’t seem the kind of young woman who was inclined to softness.
And neither was Elphaba. “I fail to see what I am being unreasonable about, Miss Galinda.”
The double doors to the throne room eased open and Nessa looked at them all, her eyes settling for a moment on Elladora’s tears and the wilted ribbons in Euphemia’s hair. “What in Oz is happening here?”
“There were a couple of latecomers,” Elphaba replied. “I’m handling it, Nessa—”
“Well, you simply must come in.” Nessa nudged one of the heavy doors open and the other Monkeys rushed to assist her. “The important thing is that you got here.”
“Thank you so much, your Majesty,” Elladora said, pinching the skin between her thumb and forefinger as if it would stop her tears. “We’re so sorry we’re late. There were so many carriages in the square—”
“The square is always so busy at this time of day.” Nessa squeezed her hand, her fingertips resting against Elladora’s gloved ones. “There was no harm done, I assure you.”
Evelina hurried after them, followed by Fiyero and Euphemia. Galinda shot Elphaba a hard, triumphant look before she walked past her. Elphaba swallowed down her retort. Nessa was the Queen; Elphaba could hardly contradict her in front of everyone else. And Nessa was too kind, too sweet, too good to not try to please everyone she could. That was why Elphaba had come to the Emerald City in the first place, after all: to save her younger sister from herself.
But Nessa seemed inclined not to let her.
Elphaba and Chistery exchanged a look and then she followed everyone else into the throne room. She glared at the back of Galinda Upland’s head, but Galinda didn’t notice.
But Elphaba would remember. And one could never undo a first impression, however distasteful.
90 Minutes Earlier
Sometimes, when she couldn’t fall asleep at night, Galinda thought about the day she was presented at court, the day the late Eminent had called her an Incomparable.
She tried to remember everything about the scene: the way the candles in the huge diamond chandeliers had sparkled, throwing splashes of light across the walls of the Emerald Palace; the women in their fancy court dresses; the tiny, measured steps she had to take so the pink feather in her hair would stay upright. She remembered the eyes of the crowd burning into her, remembered her family clustered near the windows and beaming. Almost all of her siblings had come to support her: Aurellia, Elladora, Evelina, and Euphemia. The twins, Auggie and Adriella, had been too young to leave the nursery and her younger sister, Calla Lily (or Callie, as they generally called her), hadn’t been born yet. Mother had held a handkerchief to her eyes and tried to pretend that she wasn’t wiping away tears. Father had beamed at her. Aurellia had given her a tiny thumbs up, down by her side where only Galinda could see it. She’d been presented at court two years before. She knew just how stressful it could be, just how much preparation had gone into Galinda’s dress, her hairstyle, her smile, every step she took down the polished marble floor. She remembered how soft the old king’s hand felt when he grabbed hers, his skin as thin as paper. Red and purple veins created a map under his skin. His eyes were kind. Flawless, my dear.
Before they’d left their town house, there had been a controlled sort of chaos: the twins crying because they couldn’t come along, Elly snapping at Evie when it looked like she was about to step on Galinda’s train, servants hurrying around fixing hair and snipping off loose threads. But Galinda had never seriously doubted that the day would go perfectly.
Today, they’d be lucky if they made it to the palace at all.
“I still don’t see why I have to go,” Evie whined, as a team of hairdressers pinned her braid in place. “I’m too young to be presented.”
Galinda tried not to sigh, even though they’d had this conversation literally dozens of times over the last few months. “No, you’re not. You’re on the younger side, but there will be plenty of other seventeen year olds being presented. No one expects you to get married this season, after all.”
“Then I don’t understand why I can’t wait until next year.”
“Because it’s easier to have both you and Elly out at once.” This was a blatant lie, but it had been cheaper to buy two coming-out dresses at once, rather than wait until next year when the prices would undoubtedly increase. But Galinda had taken care not to tell any of the younger girls about their present financial difficulties. They’d already gone through enough in the last eighteen months. She didn’t want to burden them any more than she’d already had to. “Honestly, Evie. Most girls your age would love to have a chance to go to all of the fancy balls and the social events.”
“But I’m not most girls my age.”
“Oz, that’s for sure,” Galinda mumbled under her breath. Evie heard her and frowned. “Just give it a chance, Ev. Who knows? You might even enjoy yourself.”
“I don’t think I will,” Evie said.
“You certainly won’t with that attitude.”
Evie’s eyes narrowed. “Aurellia wouldn’t make me do this.”
The words hung in the air for one beat, two. Galinda squeezed her eyes shut. “Well, Aurellia isn’t here. You’re stuck with me. And believe me, I don’t like it any more than you do.”
Evie’s face crumpled. “Galinda, I didn’t mean—”
“I know.” They didn’t have time for this. If Evie started to cry now, her cheeks would still be red by the time they reached the palace. Galinda glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantel and winced. “I have to go check on your sister. Please be nice to your maids.”
“I’m always nice to my maids!” Evie cried, but Galinda was already halfway out the door.
She found Elly perched on the edge of her vanity so that her long white dress wouldn’t wrinkle while her lady’s maid, Sarima worked on her hair. Elly scrutinized her reflection carefully. “Can you leave a couple of sections of hair free to frame my face, Sarima? That’s how all the Emerald City girls are styling their hair.”
Galinda tried not to scream. “Elly, we needed to be ready to go fifteen minutes ago. We’re leaving. We’re already going to be late.”
Elly sat bolt upright, knocking a pin out of her hair. Sarima had to duck to avoid getting hit with it. “We can’t leave! My hair isn’t ready!”
“Elly, you look beautiful. No one is going to be able to take their eyes off of you.” She looked so much like Aurellia that it hurt, with her hair braided and then twisted on top of her head, pearl edged clips sparkling in her hair like stars. Her white gown flowed around her effortlessly, trailing neatly on the floor behind her. Elly was a natural dancer; when she moved, even if she was just walking across the hall, she almost seemed to float. It was like her body didn’t have the same relationship with gravity that everyone else did. There was nothing to tether her to the ground.
She was like Aurellia in that way too. Galinda bit her lip until she felt the coppery taste of blood on her tongue.
“You look like a princess,” Euphemia sighed. She was perched on the window seat, where Elly and Sarima had probably sent her so she would be out of the way. She was wearing a white dress with pink ribbons that either Elly or Evie had worn to Galinda’s own presentation. Eighteen months ago, wearing her sister’s clothes would have been unthinkable. But now she didn’t complain.
“Is Momsie ready?” Elly asked, almost tentatively. She grabbed one of the pins still scattered across her vanity, digging the dull end into her palm.
“I’m going to talk to her now.” Even the thought of it made Galinda want to bite her lip again. She knew it was an ugly habit, one she’d long since given up, but she couldn’t help it. The accident had made so many bad habits resurface in all of them. Besides, she knew exactly how her conversation with Momsie would go, and she knew exactly why she’d left it until the last minute.
“Can I come with you?” Euphemia asked, jumping up from the window seat. Euphemia was twelve, still too young for Elly and Evie to take much of an interest in, but she was determined to spend as much time with her older sisters as she possibly could.
Galinda understood the feeling.
“Why don’t you stay with me instead?” Elly said quickly. Maybe a look had flashed across Galinda’s face that she hadn’t been able to hide in time. “We can look at my tiaras.” Euphemia’s eyes lit up. Just like Elly—just like Galinda herself, once upon a time—she liked anything sparkly and shiny. And the Uplands had plenty of both. For now.
“Five minutes, Elly. I mean it.” Elly nodded and Galinda hurried down the hallway and then down the staircase to her parent’s apartments. Her mother’s apartments, now.
She hesitated at the heavy wooden double doors for a moment, her hand wrapped around the doorknob. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes to steel herself, and then twisted the knob.
The weight of the air hit her first. The air in Momsie’s apartments seemed heavier than the air anywhere else in their home. It was thick like soup, filled with her grief. Galinda felt like she could only take short breaths, her heart beating out of her chest. The windows were never opened up here so she stumbled down the hallway in the dim light, tripping over a hat stand that Momsie must have knocked over and forgotten to pick back up. She stopped a servant who was hurrying by with a pile of fresh linens, probably desperate to get to another part of the building where the windows were open and sunlight streamed down the hallways. “Is my mother up?”
The maid shook her head. “I’m sorry, Miss.”
“It’s all right,” Galinda said, striding towards the bedroom. Momsie was in bed, as usual, the sheets twisted around her. Her black dressing gown glowed in the dim light of her bedside lamp. Her hair was disheveled, falling loose around her shoulders in angry curls. Her shoulders were thin, almost bony. She looked away from Galinda at the heavy black drapes over the windows. Galinda remembered when they used to be pink, before Momsie had dyed them—and everything else in the house that she could manage to get her hands on. “Momsie, we have to go to the Palace soon. We’re presenting Elly and Evie.” She couldn’t help glancing at the clock again. With the midday traffic, they’d be lucky to make it to the palace in time for the presentation at all. They should already be in the carriage by now. She was wasting her time, since she knew exactly what Momsie was going to say—and even if by some miracle Momsie did want to come, she wouldn’t have any time to get ready.
Momsie didn’t say anything for a moment. Galinda shook her shoulder gently. “Momsie?”
Momsie turned away from her, burying her head in a pillow like a child. “I couldn’t possibly go.”
“I’m sure the girls would appreciate your presence. I remember how happy I was to see you when I was presented.” Oz, it felt like another lifetime ago. She could barely remember the girl she’d been then, who’d known the most perfect happiness and had no idea that it could all be ripped away from her. She’d squabbled with her sisters and worried about getting mud on the hem of her dress and dreamed of true love, taking all of the most important things for granted.
“How can I go, Galinda?” Momsie sobbed. Galinda handed her a handkerchief, but she pushed it away. “They’re dead.”
“Yes I know, but—”
“My husband is dead!” Momsie cried, her voice echoing off the house’s high ceilings. “My daughter is dead, and so is my son-in-law!” She burst into tears again, smearing them along her sleeve. “How could I possibly go to court now?”
Because your daughters need you, Galinda wanted to say. Don’t you remember that there are five of us left, plus Auggie?
She’d never asked. She was afraid to know the answer.
Galinda twisted Aurellia’s ring around her index finger. “Well, perhaps you could come for…moral support. And perhaps you could wear half mourning instead. It’s been more than a year. Eighteen months, in fact.” As if Momsie didn’t know how many years, months, days, weeks, seconds had passed since the accident. “You don’t need to wear full mourning anymore. What about a nice lavender dress—”
“I’m not coming, Galinda,” Momsie cried. She didn’t bother to wipe her tears away. She just let them stream down her face and collect on her bodice. “I can’t. You and your sisters will be fine without me.”
No, we won’t be, Galinda wanted to say. We already barely have you and we’re not fine at all. But she knew it would be useless. Momsie wouldn’t believe her. The only thing that she could understand was her own grief.
“I wish I had been there,” Momsie continued. “Instead of you. I wish I had died too.”
Galinda closed her eyes and let the words wash over her. They felt like a cold, cloying wave instead of a dagger to the heart, the way they used to feel. She doesn’t really mean it, she told herself. It’s just her grief talking. That was what the doctor had said and Galinda desperately hoped he was right.
For a moment she just stood there, trying to say the words: We’re alive. We need you. I can’t do this all by myself. I can’t be you and Popsicle and Aurellia all at the same time. I need you to help me. But the words wouldn’t come. They shriveled and died in her throat.
Before she could say anything else, Evie’s voice echoed down the hallway. “Galinda!” she screamed. “We must make haste!”
The words shocked Galinda out of her reverie. “We’ll be back later, Momsie,” she said, even though she suspected Momsie wouldn’t notice. She kissed Momsie’s sweaty forehead, arranged her curls around her, and then hurried back down the hallway. She squeezed her hands together so she wouldn’t notice how badly they were shaking.
Luckily, all of her siblings that were out of the nursery were standing in the foyer waiting for her. She could see the shape of the carriage door through the warped window glass. Elly and Evie looked presentable, Euphemia’s dress was immaculate, and standing next to them was—
“Fiyero.” She hugged him tightly, wishing she could collapse into his arms, but there simply wasn’t time. They’d delayed long enough as it was. “You came.”
“Of course,” he said, wrapping an arm around her and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I couldn’t miss my favorite girls’ big day.”
“We’re the only girls you know, Fiyero,” Elly laughed.
Galinda loved him in that moment. She truly did, because Fiyero was the only person in the world who could always make her siblings laugh. Even after the accident, when Elly cried so hard she nearly dehydrated herself and the twins cried for Popsicle and Aurellia because they couldn’t understand Galinda when she told them that they weren’t coming home and they’d had to hire a wet nurse because Momsie couldn’t feed Callie, Fiyero had always managed to make them smile. She didn’t know how she would have gotten through the last year without him. She didn’t know what she would do without him now. She looked down at the ring on her finger to reassure herself that she didn’t have to.
Sarima hurried over with her cloak, fastening it around Galinda’s neck. “You don’t want to catch a chill, Miss,” she said.
“Thank you, Sarima.” Galinda couldn’t help hugging her. Sarima had always felt like a part of her family too; her parents had come to work for the Uplands when Galinda was four and they had become fast friends. Popsicle had let Sarima learn with them in the schoolroom and sometimes she even ate dinner with the family. When she was old enough to work she’d been hired on as Aurellia and Galinda’s maid, but now she looked after Elly, Evie, and Euphemia. She helped Galinda work through the household accounts too. She’d never asked for a raise, even though her increased range of duties would normally demand it. She’d seen the figures herself. She knew that the Uplands couldn’t afford it. The death duties had taken more than anyone had ever expected.
Elly flipped her hair over her shoulder appreciatively. “Sarima, I look just like one of the Emerald City girls.”
“You are one of the Emerald City girls, Miss Elladora,” Sarima laughed. “But I’m sure you’ll do wonderfully. Miss Evelina too.”
“We’ll see you afterwards, Sarima,” Fiyero replied. Sarima nodded, arranging the collar on Galinda’s jacket.
They hurried into the carriage. It was a tight squeeze; Euphemia was sandwiched between Evie and Elly, valiantly trying not to accidentally sit on their skirts, while Galinda and Fiyero sat on the bench across from them. As soon as the carriage lurched into motion, Galinda grabbed Fiyero’s hand. It was an unconscious movement, but Fiyero didn’t seem to mind. He grabbed her hand as she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to pretend she was literally anywhere else. “Breathe, Galinda,” he murmured.
Galinda tried to focus on her breathing and ignore the way her heart thundered in her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the warmth of Fiyero’s hand in hers. She tried to tell herself she was safe, even though she knew better than anyone that sometimes carriages weren’t safe. She tried to tell herself that they were going too slow for a collision; they were crawling along at a snail’s pace, caught in the mess of carriages on New York Avenue. She tried to focus on her sisters’ voices; they were glued to the window, trying to name the coat of arms on every carriage they passed.
You’re safe, she thought again, even though she wasn’t. Even though she didn’t think she would ever feel safe in a carriage again. Every rattle the carriage made sounded like the noise the carriage had made the day that Popsicle and Aurellia and Eldric died, just before it listed to one side and thrown them all over the brow of the hill.
By the time they reached the Palace she had left a line of tiny nail prints in the side of Fiyero’s hand. But Fiyero didn’t complain. He helped her sisters disembark, careful to ensure that Elladora and Evelina’s capes didn’t drag along the packed earth of the courtyard, so she could take an extra minute to compose herself. Galinda squeezed her eyes shut and wished for the millionth time that the rest of her family was with her. But she knew it was the silliest thing she could wish for. Her family would never be complete again. Not in this lifetime.
Galinda first realized something was wrong when they stepped inside the palace and realized how quiet it was. The antechambers should have been full of people—mothers and aunts and cousins getting their daughters and nieces and acquaintances ready for their meeting with the Queen. Instead, there was nobody there. Their footsteps echoed off the marble floors and bounced off of the high ceilings, and the heavy doors that led into the throne room were shut.
Galinda’s heart dropped.
By the time she reached her sisters, Fiyero was already talking in a low and urgent voice with one of the Monkeys that stood at attention on either side of the door. Elly’s face was pale and she kept biting her lip. She had her arms crossed over her chest; the gesture made her look much younger, like she was eight instead of eighteen.
“What’s happening?” Galinda whispered.
“They won’t let us in,” Evie said. “He said the Presentation ended at 2:00.” It was 2:45.
Galinda squeezed her eyes shut. For a moment, despair threatened to overwhelm her. If they’d opted for the faster carriage instead of the steadier one, if she’d given Elladora less time to work on her hair, if she hadn’t even bothered to see Momsie since Momsie was never going to come with them anyway, perhaps they would have arrived on time. If Aurellia had been here, none of this would have happened. She would have known which carriage to take. She would have known what to say to Evelina and Momsie. She would have known how to make Elladora smile. She would know what to say to the guards now to let them inside.
Galinda thought, as she always did, that the wrong sister had survived that carriage crash.
The door opened and Princess Elphaba let herself out of the throne room, asking the guard—Chistery, apparently—what was happening. Galinda knew who she was, of course; the princess was hard to miss, with her emerald skin. She thought that she would be able to reason with her. It was hardly unusual for aristocrats to be late, after all. But she could tell, from the first glance that the Princess sent her way, that Elphaba wouldn’t help them—that Elphaba didn’t like them.
Princess Elphaba didn’t know who they were. She thought they were just another thoughtless aristocratic family who didn’t own a clock. Galinda felt an unexpected wave of relief.
If she’d let him, Fiyero would have explained the situation. He would have told Elphaba that Galinda’s father and elder sister were dead and that her mother had barely left her rooms in eighteen months. He would have made Elphaba pity her. But Galinda had had quite enough of everyone’s pity. Let Elphaba think Galinda was the kind of woman that she clearly thought she was, the kind who thought her hair was more important than her sister’s presentation. At least she’d be hated instead of hated and pitied. Perhaps it didn’t make sense, but so many of Galinda’s feelings didn’t make sense these days. She felt like she was drowning slowly and it was all she could do to keep her head above water.
Thankfully, the Queen herself came to meet them and invited them all into the throne room. She let Elly walk next to her as they made their way back down the long wooden floor. Galinda could hear snatches of their conversation: about dressmakers and milliners and fashionable hairstyles. It wasn’t lost on Galinda that Queen Nessarose’s hair was done in precisely the same style as Elly’s. Evelina walked behind them, mercifully not sulking. Instead she looked around at the high ceilings and stained glass windows as if they had entered some kind of holy space, like a church. Euphemia walked next to Fiyero and Galinda walked just ahead of Elphaba. She could feel Elphaba’s eyes boring into her back but she forced herself not to turn around and glare right back. Disagreeable or not, Elphaba was still a princess of Oz.
The Wizard Regent was sitting in a smaller chair at the edge of the dais, across from Nessa. He was older than Galinda had thought he was, lines carved into his face. But he had kind eyes. They reminded her of Popsicle’s. “Father, this is Miss Elladora Upland and this is her sister, Miss Evelina,” the Queen said.
“It’s nice to meet you both,” he said, pushing himself to his feet. “We’re so glad you could make it.” Elladora and Evelina both executed flawless curtseys. Galinda had to try to hold in her sigh of relief. Just yesterday, she’d thought Evelina’s curtseys were hopeless. “Are you two twins?”
“No. Evie is a year younger than me, your Ozness,” Elly replied. “We both decided to make our debut this year.”
Galinda wasn’t the most religious of people, especially after the events of the past eighteen months, but she prayed to whoever would listen that Evie wouldn’t say anything about how she’d been forced to come. Evie didn’t say anything at all; she just executed a neat curtsey and pasted a smile on her face that Galinda suspected only she would know was fake.
“And is this the rest of your family?” Galinda felt the Wizard’s eyes settle on her scar and then studiously look away.
Fiyero, as a man, could make the introductions. “Prince Fiyero Tigelaar, of the Arjiki. This is my fiancee, Miss Galinda Upland, and her sister Miss Euphemia Upland.”
“That’s a lot of sisters.”
“We have three more,” Evie said quickly. “And a brother. But they couldn’t come today.”
“You’ll have to give them our regards,” the Queen said. “Will they be at the Pfann Hall ball tonight?”
“They’re too young to stay out late,” Evie said. Galinda squeezed her hand before she could say that their oldest sister, their eighth sibling, was dead.
Elly and the Queen talked for a little bit longer about Emerald City fashion, while the Wizard asked Fiyero questions about life in the Vinkus. Evie and Euphemia seemed content to take in the huge throne room, counting all of the cherubs—or perhaps they were faeries—painted on the ceiling. Princess Elphaba didn’t say anything. She just looked at them like she thought they were planning on stealing one of the portraits of the Thropps’ long dead ancestors that hung on the walls. Since there weren’t any other nervous young girls waiting to make their debut, there was nobody to rush them out. In fact, as Galinda watched Elly and Queen Nessarose laugh together, she dared to think that things might have worked out for the best after all.
After what she judged to be a suitable period of time, she reminded Elly that they had to run home and get changed for the ball. They all said their goodbyes, with the requisite round of curtsies, and then Chistery escorted them back out to their carriage. Galinda felt Elphaba’s eyes on her back until the doors to the throne room closed behind them. It was unfortunate; if Miss Elphaba wasn’t so disagreeable, Galinda would have thought she was beautiful.
The girls chattered most of the way back to Upland House. Even Evie had nothing but good things to say about the Wizard and Queen Nessarose. “Why do you suppose he calls himself the Wizard Regent?” she asked as she looked out at the great houses that lined the main thoroughfares through town.
“I don’t know,” Elly said. “Maybe it’s because he isn’t royal.”
“I can ask him at the ball tonight—”
“You most certainly will not, Evie,” Galinda said quickly. But at least Evie was no longer complaining about having to go to the ball that night, which Galinda counted as a victory. Euphemia was pouting that she couldn’t go, her feet drawn up on the carriage seat even though Galinda had told her to put them down at least five different times. “I don’t want to stay at home with the babies!” she cried. “Galinda, why can’t I be Presented early too?”
“Because you’re not even thirteen yet, Mia.” Galinda could feel a headache coming on. “I’m sure Evie and Elly will tell you everything tomorrow morning. You’ll go to plenty of balls when you’re their age.”
“In six more years!” Euphemia cried, and promptly burst into tears.
Evie promised that she could have her dance card. “It’s not like I’m going to use it anyway.”
Sarima met them inside with a spread of tea and cakes already laid out. “How was it?” she asked as she unfastened Galinda’s cloak.
“It went well. It could have gone better,” Fiyero said, shooting Galinda a look. Galinda pretended not to see it.
Elly and Euphemia started talking over each other, trying to tell Sarima all about their meeting with the Queen and the Wizard and the glimmering grandeur of the palace. Then Elly began to speculate about the theme for the Phan Hall ball, at which point Euphemia burst into tears and ran upstairs. Galinda was going to go after her—she remembered well how hard it had been to sit at home while Aurellia went to all manner of social events during her first Season—but Sarima was already climbing the stairs.
Fiyero took Galinda’s hand and steered her to the other side of the room, where they could pretend to examine the portrait of her and Aurellia, Elly, and Evie that hung above the top of the stairs. “What was that?”
“What was what?” Galinda asked, staring at the painted dimples in Aurellia’s cheeks. In real life she’d only had one dimple, in her right cheek. They’d always joked about her missing dimple and where it could have gotten to.
“Telling the Princess that you were late because you were doing your hair?”
Galinda shrugged. “I was just confirming the judgment she made about me—the judgement she made about all of us, actually—as soon as she saw us.”
“If you had only told her about the…extenuating circumstances, I’m sure she would have been more understanding.”
“What extenuating circumstances?” She glanced back at Elly and Evie, making sure they were both involved in tea and cakes and unlikely to be eavesdropping. “The fact that my family is falling apart? The fact that this time next year we might not be in this house—or in the Emerald City at all?”
“Galinda, you know that isn’t going to happen. Your sister was married to my brother. My family will take care of you—all of you.”
“But that isn’t a sustainable solution long term,” Galinda murmured. “Eventually we’re going to have a family of our own, and—no offense—but Vinkan nobility has never been especially wealthy.”
“And you don’t think that a princess might be able to help with the death duties?”
Galinda sighed. She was doing everything wrong, as usual. “I didn’t think about that.”
“Clearly.”
“She didn’t know who I was. When she looked at me…I didn’t see any pity. I suppose it just felt so…nice to have someone hate me, instead of pity me. I wanted to be the girl she thought I was, the girl who didn’t care about anything more than her hair and her clothes, the one who didn’t have a dead father and a dead sister and a dead brother in law. I wanted to be normal, for once. And if you had told her about the extenuating circumstances…then I would have lost all of it.”
Fiyero sighed. “You know she’s going to figure out who you are at some point, don’t you? They might be new to the Ton, but everyone knows what happened to you. With Elly and Evie officially out…everyone’s going to be talking about it again.”
“Then I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. But this afternoon…it felt nice to be loathed. Is that a ridiculous thing?”
“Only slightly,” Fiyero sighed. “But you’ve been through so much, Galinda. I think you’ve earned the right to be a little ridiculous.” She wanted to collapse into him, wanted to hear him tell her that everything would be all right because then maybe she’d believe it.
“Besides, what does it matter what Princess Elphaba thinks about me? I’m officially off the market.” And thank Oz for it, she thought. No one else would court her with her scars. She’d heard people talking at the funeral, when they thought she wasn’t listening: she used to be such a beauty. It’s such a shame. One person even said If you ask me, she would have been better off dying too. Fiyero may not love her, just as she didn’t love him—not the way their siblings had loved each other—but Fiyero was kind and tender and he loved her siblings just as much as Galinda did, and that was enough. Galinda would do anything to keep them safe and cared for.
“Elly certainly seemed to hit it off with the Queen.”
“She’ll undoubtedly meet more suitors at the ball tonight.” The Queen seemed nice enough, but seeing her again would almost certainly mean seeing Princess Elphaba again too.
And really, once had been more than enough.