“Oh, that’s all right,” the Lion said. “I don’t need anything fancy.” He followed the gardener through the huge main gates of the palace, and his stomach rumbled. It definitely wouldn’t do to eat one of Ozma’s staff, but he was terribly hungry, and the Munchkin was so tempting.
Inside, the palace was even grander than the outside. Ozma’s touch was everywhere, in the giant tapestries that covered the walls and the soft, thick carpets scattered across the stone floor. More servants bustled back and forth on various errands, carrying trays laden with delicacies, cleaning supplies, or stacks of books and papers. It was almost hard to believe that this was the same palace where he’d once lounged with the Scarecrow, and where they’d fought a bloody battle against General Jinjur. The palace even felt different. He could almost smell the magic humming in the air—Ozma’s magic, he realized. It buzzed faintly in his ears like a distant beehive. The Emerald Palace had never felt like this before. For the first time, it had a true ruler.
“If you’ll just wait here for a moment, Your Majesty,” the gardener said. Before the Lion could reply, he was running off down a hallway. Moments later, another servant appeared. This Munchkin was clearly someone important in the palace: his uniform was a beautifully tailored suit, and he wore an emerald pin on his lapel.
“We are honored to have such an illustrious guest. I am Reedus Appleall, at your service,” he said, bowing. “The queen is just finishing some business, but will be ready to receive you soon, Your Highness.” He looked at the Lion’s dirty, matted fur with the faintest expression of disapproval. “Perhaps His Majesty would like to refresh himself before seeing the queen?”
“I would love some refreshments,” the Lion said happily.
“Very well, sir. This way, please.”
The Lion followed Reedus down the familiar corridors of the palace. Ozma’s touches were everywhere: every alcove was filled with fresh flowers, the floors were spotless and polished, the walls hung with beautiful Ozian landscapes. He recognized the lush field of poppies where he had once fallen into a most perilous sleep. Rainbow Falls was depicted in all its dazzling, multicolored splendor; real mist drifted from the painting and left a faint, sparkling rainbow dust on his fur. Leaning in to examine an image of distant mountains, he could feel a cool breeze drifting from the tall, snowy peaks. The servants all wore matching uniforms and identical expressions of contentment. “The place looks nice,” the Lion remarked.
“Ozma is a wonderful queen,” his guide agreed earnestly. He ushered the Lion into a large chamber. Huge picture windows looked out over the palace gardens, and an elaborately carved four-poster bed nearly the size of the Lion’s entire platform in the forest dominated the far end of the room. The Lion flopped down on the bed with a sigh of satisfaction, ignoring the expression of horror that flashed across the Munchkin’s face at the sight of his muddy paws dirtying the lace bedspread.
“About those refreshments,” the Lion growled. Bowing and nodding, the little servant backed into the hallway and disappeared.
Moments later, the room was full of activity. A team of a dozen Pixies flew in, steering a huge tub of steaming water that rolled along atop an invisible bubble of magic and a pile of towels. A Munchkin brought a platter of roasted meat, and another hurried toward the Lion with a brush and comb. The Lion was far more interested in a meal than in hygiene, but he allowed himself to be hustled into the bathtub. He munched happily as the Pixies shampooed his fur and combed the tangles out of his mane and tail. When he was thoroughly clean, more Pixies took away the bathwater while a Munchkin toweled him dry and brushed his fur until it shone. Finally, another Munchkin brought him a mirror. The Lion admired himself for a moment. “I look so respectable no one will recognize me!” he exclaimed.
Reedus reappeared. “Ozma is ready to receive you, Your Highness,” he said. The Lion followed him down another series of hallways to the Emerald Palace’s throne room. As with everywhere else in the palace, Ozma had redecorated the throne room to within an inch of its life. Elaborate murals depicted the history of Oz, and stained-glass windows refracted the sunlight into hundreds of patches of emerald green. Ozma sat regally in her throne, her golden crown sparkling in the sunlight and her rich green robes spilling to the floor around her. But other than a few servants, the throne room was nearly empty, and she looked tiny and lost all alone in the vast space.
“His Highness the Lion, King of the Beasts,” Reedus announced, but Ozma was already rising to her feet.
“Lion!” she exclaimed, picking up the hem of her robe and scampering toward him like a little girl. She flung her arms around his neck. “It’s so good to see you!” The Lion was so surprised at her delight that he began to purr.