“My magic comes from Oz,” Nox said. “I think that’s why it’s so hard to reach here. Ev must have a different kind of power. The shoes are part of Oz, too. But your magic . . .”
He didn’t finish, but I knew what he was thinking. My magic was part Oz, part me. And I was from the Other Place. Which meant that maybe, just maybe, I could find a way to make my own magic work here. If I could somehow bypass the Oz parts—if that was even possible—I could tap directly into the magic that came from me.
But if I tried to access it without the shoes, it might also just kill me.
“Why is this place ugly as hell?” Madison asked, looking around. “I thought there were supposed to be, like, singing Muppets or something.”
“Munchkins,” I said automatically.
Madison was right. If this was Ev, it was a total dump. Dorothy had been draining the magic out of Oz for awhile. The trees had stopped talking and the river was running in reverse. But there was still some magic and color left in Oz.
In Ev it was as if there had never been any color or magic. The landscape was bleak and twisted. The blackened, winding path that stretched away from us was like the Road of Yellow Brick’s evil twin sister. In the distance, dilapidated shacks dotted the horizon like scabs. There was nothing green and growing. No water. No sign of life. No flowers.
“If we’re in Ev, the road brought us here for a reason,” Nox began. “Maybe Amy’s right and there’s a—”
But he didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. Because right then the Wheelers came.
THREE
DOROTHY
Quelle surprise, bitches! I’m not dead!
Believe me, I’m just as shocked as you are. When the Emerald Palace started crumbling around me and that god-awful Amy Gumm left me to die, I thought I was a goner.
There I was, inches from death, abandoned by Amy and her dimwit boy toy—after everything I’ve done for Oz! These kinds of situations really lead you to face your own mortality, do you know what I mean? Some people say their entire life flashes before their eyes. At the moment the palace fell, I totally expected to die. And I wasn’t happy about it, but I’ve led an exciting and productive life and accomplished a lot. People would definitely remember me after I passed. I had to be content with that.
A huge chunk of the cavern crashed down right next to my head. I closed my eyes and prepared to say good-bye—and then the floor fell out beneath me and I tumbled into the arms of the handsomest man I’d ever seen, just like that.
That was how I met my current fiancé, the Nome King (so romantic, don’t you think! I couldn’t have staged it better myself) although of course I had no idea at that exact moment who he was or how on earth he’d gotten there—in the nick of time, too—or that shortly I’d be planning our wedding. Or that I’d also be working on thwarting an extremely diabolical plot against poor little moi.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Back to my rescue.
He gently laid me on a silver sleigh pulled by some of his soldiers. They were all clad in identical black uniforms, and discs of light were embedded in their foreheads. This light lit our way down the tunnel. I couldn’t help but wonder if they’d been born that way, or if the Nome King had someone like Scare come up with clever inventions. Instead of running on snow, the sleigh moved across stone, just as smoothly. It was piled high with red velvet blankets and pillows.
My rescuer got into the sleigh next to me and poured some water out of a silver flask onto a soft cloth, dabbing the dust and blood from my face with a featherlight touch. There must have been something special in that water because I felt almost instantly better. His servants took off running, and good thing they did—behind us, the tunnel began to collapse. But luckily his soldiers were as fast as they were strong, and soon we left the destruction behind.
Once we were clear of the palace and farther into the dark tunnel, I looked down and inspected myself. It was worse than I thought—my dress was ruined. I felt every slash in the gingham like a wound to my heart. I also had bruises and cuts. I called on my magic to repair the damage but felt only a faint flicker in response. I must still be too weak from the collapse of the palace. I would have to try again later.
I turned my attention to my rescuer. “Who are you?” I asked. Even then I had my suspicions about the identity of my knight in shining bald armor who had whisked me out of danger.
“I am the King of Ev,” he told me solemnly. “I had a premonition you might be in danger, dearest Dorothy. I’ve been digging under the Deadly Desert for years”—I kept mum, but between you and me, he was not supposed to be doing that—“trying to reach Oz on a mission of peace.”
I raised one eyebrow. Even in my weakened state, I knew the Nome King did not exactly have a reputation as the world’s greatest pacifist. But it was like he could read the thought before it even finished crossing my mind.
“I know in the past I haven’t always been a perfect ruler,” he said quickly. “But things are desperate in Ev, Dorothy, and only Oz can help us. For years, my people have been starving. The earth is barren. The citizens are poor and without hope.”
Not my problem, I thought.
“You’re poor?” I blurted.
“My land is poor in some ways, but rich in others,” he replied cryptically.
I cocked my head to the side. I was not a fan of riddles, even though every witch and even the Wizard himself (when he was alive) spouted them on a regular basis, but he had just saved my life, so I kept listening.
He reached into his pocket and then held out his closed fist. When he opened it, it was filled with rubies. Red, like my shoes. I reached for them, but he closed his hand with a chuckle.
He hung his head humbly. “I’ve made mistakes, Dorothy, and I regret them every day. But I’m reaching out now to try and make amends for the sake of my people.”
Who among us hasn’t done things she might regret at some point in her life? You might find this hard to believe, but even I wonder sometimes if I always did the best thing for Oz. I, for one, should not have been so kind. I should have killed Ozma and Amy Gumm when I had the chance. If I had just been less merciful, then Tin, Scare, and the Lion might still be alive. My beautiful palace would not have landed on top of me.
It’s a natural consequence of being a ruler, of course—you’re just responsible for so much. It’s impossible to be everything that everyone expects of you. And if sometimes you overreact because of stress or something like that, you know the whole world is watching and judging, even though you’re only trying your best.
Where I come from, in Kansas, trying your best is all you can do. But in Oz people expected me to be perfect. I immediately understood what the Nome King was saying. He needed someone who’d been there. Who knew how he felt. Only another ruler could sympathize with what he was going through.