I have to admit, Bupu’s news that my new fiancé was planning on killing me didn’t come as a total shock. But still, I was miffed. I knew I’d sensed a spark between us. And the idea of ruling our twin kingdoms together wasn’t entirely unappealing. I don’t like to share, it’s true, but I’ve also never met anyone who came as close to being my equal.
“Okay, Bupu,” I said. “What exactly did you hear? Why did the Nome King go to all this trouble to rescue me if he’s only going to kill me? That doesn’t make any sense at all.”
Bupu snuffled a little and dabbed at the corner of her eyes with her sleeve.
“The shoes,” she said miserably. “He wants mistress’s shoes.”
“I know that,” I said, rolling my eyes. “He thinks they’re his, the ninny. But he can’t have them. They’re bound to me. If he kills me, they’ll be useless.”
It occurred to me as I said this that I had no idea if it was true. Except in a way, I did. If he could get the shoes back just by offing me, I’d have been dead the minute he found me. So it was something else.
He needed to marry me to get the shoes. But why?
Something occurred to me.
“Bupu, what’s a wedding like in Ev?”
“Your wedding will be the most splendid ever seen in all of Ev,” Bupu assured me.
“Bupu, I don’t want to have a wedding if I die at it, do you understand that part?” She nodded vigorously. “So,” I said patiently. “Before the Nome King kills me, what happens exactly at a traditional Ev wedding.”
Bupu looked thoughtful. “Vows?” she offered.
I reminded myself to be patient.
“Yes, dear, I understand that. But what do the vows say? What about the ceremony? What else happens?”
Realization dawned in her eyes. “Oh! You want to know about the magic.”
“Yes, Bupu,” I said, excitement flooding through my veins. I knew it. There was something about the wedding itself. Something important that the Nome King wanted. Some part of the ceremony. “Is it something to do with my shoes?”
Bupu nodded eagerly. “Yes, the shoes! They are bound to you, mistress.”
“I know that, Bupu,” I said through gritted teeth. “But the Nome King doesn’t want me to use them. Do you know why?”
“He wants their magic back?”
“I need to know why he wants to kill me!” I shrieked, unable to control myself any longer.
“Oh,” Bupu said. “You should have said that to begin with, mistress. The shoes are bound to you, but Ev’s wedding vows are magical. All magic is shared between the spouses.”
“So I can siphon off the Nome King’s magic?” I asked. That didn’t make sense at all. Why would he risk making himself vulnerable? Bupu was already shaking her head.
“That’s not his plan, mistress. He doesn’t like to share anything. Magic can be stolen once it is bound. With blood.”
It took a second for her words to sink in. “With blood?”
She nodded, her lower lip quivering. “The king will bind his magic to yours. And then use your blood to steal it. All of it. That’s why he will try to kill you.”
A wedding followed by the traditional bloodletting reception. And I’d had my heart set on a multitiered wedding cake.
She puffed out her little chest. “But I will protect you!”
In spite of myself, I smiled. “I’m sure that will be very helpful,” I said. She beamed. “Hmmm,” I said, thinking out loud. “That’s awfully nasty magic, really. But that’s not a huge surprise either. Ev seems to be a fairly nasty place. All this slavery and cave dwelling and bad fashion.”
Bupu nodded. “Very nasty. You will take me back to Oz when you defeat the Nome King, won’t you? I could help you there, too.”
And there it was. My little seed of friendship had grown into a full bloom. The little creature wasn’t quite as stupid as she looked—and her motives weren’t entirely altruistic. Her eyes were wide and pleading, but I caught a spark of cunning, too. I wasn’t angry; I was pleased. At last there was something to this sad, shabby Munchkin.
“Is that why you’re helping me, Bupu?” I asked sweetly.
“No!” she said hastily. I raised an eyebrow. “Maybe a little,” she admitted.
“You have nothing to be ashamed of,” I told her. “Helping yourself is the most important thing of all—unless you work for me, in which case it’s helping me. But I think I can make this work out for both of us. And yes, Bupu, I’ll bring you back to Oz.”
“So I can help you there?” She brightened.
“I’ll tell you what,” I said. “If—when—we both make it back to Oz in one piece, I’ll set you free.”
She stared at me with her mouth hanging open.
“Free?” she whispered. “Free?” Her eyes filled with tears. It was a word that she clearly hadn’t let herself even dream of in a long time.
I put out my hand. A moment later, she took it, gazing up at me in bewilderment. “We’re shaking on it,” I explained, gravely shaking her wrinkly hand. “It’s a deal.”
“A deal,” she echoed. And then she squared her shoulders and stood proud and tall. “If you help me escape I will lay down my life for you, Dorothy Gale,” she said.
And do you know what? I was almost moved.
Ev was making me soft. But I couldn’t help it. I knew what it was like to be stuck in an awful place with no hope of ever getting free again—and I knew how much worse it was when you knew how beautiful the alternative could be. When I’d been stuck in Kansas a second time, with no way back to Oz . . . Well, it didn’t bear thinking about. But I knew exactly what Bupu was going through. I’d been tortured in Kansas, too. I’d suffered terrible privation. I’d wept into my pillow every night, desperate to regain what I’d lost.
Okay, so maybe it wasn’t literal torture. But the mind is the most sensitive organ. What I’d gone through in Kansas was just as bad as whipping and imprisonment.
I clapped my hands, and Bupu jumped. “Let’s get down to business,” I said. “If I’m going to thwart my own murder and get us out of here, I need to come up with a plan.”
I thought for a while.
I couldn’t deny that I was intrigued by the Nome King—even now that I knew he wanted to kill me. He just wanted his power back—and that much I could understand. It wasn’t his fault I stood in his way, although I was a little miffed he hadn’t even asked me to share. I was clever, rich, and beautiful; what ruler wouldn’t want me at his side? But the Nome King was ancient; it was no wonder his power had run down dark and ugly paths in the centuries he’d been holed up underground, hating the outside world. And from the look of things, he and I had very different approaches to the way we cared for our kingdoms. Queendoms. Whatever.
I know a few malcontents have had complaints about the way I did things in Oz, but I’ve only ever wanted for my subjects to be happy. I’d never have enslaved any of them if they would only do what they were told. Plus, when they were miserable, I’d ordered them to follow the Happiness Decree. And when that failed to cheer them up, I’d insisted on PermaSmile. Aunt Em always used to say that no one could stay under the weather as long as they had a smile on their face.
I would never let my subjects suffer the way the Nome King did. Why, he didn’t even insist they look happy when he was around them.
I mulled over what to do next as Bupu brushed out my hair.
I didn’t want to die, obviously. Who would? But I couldn’t let go of the idea that the Nome King was missing out. On me. We were two of the most powerful people in the world, whichever world you picked. We balanced each other out perfectly: he was grumpy, mean, and lived in a cave, and I was beautiful and all my subjects loved me. Or else.
Together, the two of us would make a formidable team.
To be honest, I’d never been one of those little girls who’d fantasized about my wedding. But now that the possibility was in front of me, I was starting to have ideas. A whole entire day that was basically a holiday for me? A party where I was the star? An event that involved hundreds of people coming from all over the world to bring me presents and tell me how beautiful I looked? Who could possibly resist? And realistically, the Nome King was the most eligible bachelor I was likely to run across in Oz or Ev. There were about a million single, powerful witches running around, but the last gentleman caller I’d had was Tin.
Ugh.
No, I was simply going to have to convince the Nome King that I was more use to him alive than dead. I’d have to use every ounce of power I had to charm his pants off. (Figuratively speaking! I would never sacrifice my precious chastity before marriage, of course.)
In short, I had to make him fall in love with me.
And if that didn’t work, I had to kill him first.
I certainly had my work cut out for me, considering I was a girl locked in her room. I was going to have to take care of that right away.
I wiggled my toes experimentally and felt the shoes stir to life. I had one small advantage: the Nome King might have realized I could use magic again, but I was pretty sure he hadn’t seen that awful idiot Amy the way that I had. I was never going to forgive her for stealing my other shoes. Those were mine, and the little bitch had no right to them. But whatever she’d used them for, it was through her channeling their power that mine had been awakened. So in a way, I owed her a favor. Technically. Not that I’d ever tell her.
And if she was in Ev, it was for one of two reasons: she wanted to kill the Nome King, or she wanted to kill me.
“I just need a plan.” I frowned and chewed on one knuckle thoughtfully. “Bupu, where will the Nome King hold our nuptials, do you think?”
“Mmmm.” Bupu tocked her head back and forth, considering. “There is the Major Hall. It has not been used in many years. But it is a powerful place. Also big.” She gestured toward the ceiling with the hairbrush. “Very big.”
“Powerful?”
“Old Magic. Very dangerous.” She shivered. “Diggers,” she said. “Diggers used to sacrifice people there.”
“That’ll be the place, then,” I said cheerfully. “Good work, Bupu. How many entrances does it have?”
“Only one, mistress.”
Well, I’d just better be sure I killed him, then, if I couldn’t make him fall in love with me. A single exit from what was, I was sure, going to be a very well-guarded event? Even at the height of my powers that would have made for a tricky escape. And while my shoes seemed to be waking up again—or whatever it was they were doing—I could tell my magic was still hard to access this far from Oz. It made sense that the shoes would work here, if they’d really come from the Nome King somehow. And it made sense, too, that my own magic would work best in Oz. But if I could practice with the shoes maybe I could find a way to amplify my power.
Except that based on what had happened at that sad excuse for a banquet, the Nome King could tell if I used them.
But there was another weapon I could use against him if I had to.
Amy Gumm.
I sighed heavily.
And, right on cue, the door opened.
“Oh, hello, darling,” I cooed, jumping to my feet. Thanks to Bupu’s efforts, my hair spilled around my shoulders in glossy waves, and I was still wearing the dress I’d put on for the Nome King’s banquet. It wasn’t my best look by a long shot, but I’m an enterprising girl.
The Nome King did not look thrilled at the sight of me.
“Don’t think you can fool me, Dorothy,” he growled. All pretense of the dashing suitor was gone. His tone was threatening.
I widened my eyes and looked up at him prettily through my lashes. I’d be wasting my time playing dumb at this point. But I could still take him by surprise.
“You need me,” I purred. “So be a little nicer.”
To my satisfaction, he actually looked taken aback. And then he laughed.
“You are a prisoner in my kingdom who couldn’t use magic until an hour ago,” he said. “And I’m guessing you’re not up to full strength quite yet. I hardly think I need you.”
“I’m your guest, not your prisoner. Be respectful when you address me,” I snapped. “I’m not some dimwit glitterball like Glinda. You don’t have any idea who it is you’re trifling with. I can make you regret the day you were born, you doddering old coot.”
His face contorted into a frown. Well. That got his attention.
“I’m not trying to trick you,” I added with dignity. “Believe me, I have no idea what happened back there.” That was the truth and I made sure to look him in the eye when I said it. “And I have no idea how—or if—I could make anything like that happen again.”
So that was maybe the teensiest fib. I knew my magic was back. I just didn’t know to what extent. Or if I could even harness it fully. So it lent my little white lie the gloss of truth. He looked closely at my face and then seemed satisfied.
“When we are married, my darling, there will never be any secrets between us,” I promised, batting my eyelashes again. Other than the fact that you want to kill me, I thought. But really, over my dead body. I’d find a way to stop him come hell or high water.
“Of course not,” he said smoothly. His smile was bland and pleasant now.
He knows I’m lying, I thought. He just doesn’t know what about.
I moved quickly to distract him. “Darling, perhaps you’ll allow me to make a few . . . suggestions about the wedding,” I purred again, looping my arm through his. “Might I see the venue? And the rest of your palace? I’ve barely set foot outside these lovely rooms since you brought me here.” I refrained from adding that this was because he’d locked me in them.
He cocked his head at me. I knew he was trying to figure out what I was up to. But apparently he decided there was no harm in showing me around a little.
“As you wish,” he said gravely, bowing like a perfect gentleman and opening the door for me. I gave Bupu a wink over his shoulder. She nodded fiercely. “First, I will show you the palace. And then the cavern where our wedding will take place.”
Well, the grand tour was a grand disappointment. Just a bunch of miserable old caverns and dusty tapestries and creepy staircases that went nowhere.
Sure, some of the caves were sort of cool, if you were into that kind of thing—glowing crystals, and weird underground springs that ran into underground rivers, and tunnels that led you around in circles. Caverns that were obviously storerooms that hadn’t been touched in decades: dust-covered wooden barrels full of who knows what. Ancient weapons: spike-balled maces so heavy I couldn’t lift them, huge crossbows that seemed designed for giants, cannons rusted into immobility.
The Nome King droned on about the history of his various ancestors, and, although I tuned out his sonorous voice, I was acutely conscious of the weight of his arm in mine. He hadn’t changed either. He was still dressed in his velvet suit. The material was soft and cool against my skin.
“How fascinating,” I murmured, every time he paused. At least he seemed to have relaxed.
It was as though he’d never had anyone to listen to him before. Some men were like that; let them get going, and they’d never stop. It never occurred to them to ask if anybody else wanted to talk about herself. As if I had nothing interesting to say.
Then again, maybe he was just lonely.
As he talked, I surreptitiously looked around me, trying to memorize the layout of the palace. But it was an absolute maze. Every corridor branched off into a thousand others. Every room looked like a room I’d passed already.
And everywhere, I realized, the hallways were empty.
The Nome King had his forces. His Munchkins and his Diggers and the other Nomes I’d briefly seen at the banquet. But the palace dwellers were engulfed by this enormous place, rattling around like peas in a glass jar. No wonder he needed my magic. As powerful as he was, his forces were nowhere near enough to take Oz. It all came down to him.
And that, I understood. Because at the end of the day, while I’d had armies at my disposal, Oz was all about me. It was exhilarating, having that kind of power. But it was also isolating. A huge responsibility.
The more time I spent with him, the more I realized how much alike we were. But the Nome King could have learned a thing or two from me—I had kept Tin, Scare, and the Lion around for a reason. Not just because they were useful. They were also company.
“But you must be bored with all of this,” he said suddenly, as if he’d read my mind. “Tell me about the history of Dorothy Gale.”
“You mean, how I came to rule Oz?” I asked, blinking up at him.
“No,” he said. “Your history before.”
“I prefer not to talk about that.”
I never talked about the Other Place. I had had people’s fingers cut off at the mere mention.
“But, darling, how are we ever going to know each other if we don’t . . . share?” he asked.
I hesitated. I needed him to trust me. Was this the price of admission?
“Dorothy . . . ?”
I took a deep breath and told him about Kansas. At first, I told him everything I’d hated about growing up there. The miserable winters that lasted for months. The miserable summers the rest of the time. Working like a serf on Aunt Em and Uncle Henry’s farm. My so-called friends who’d turned on me after my first visit to Oz.
But then I started thinking about the good things. About the parts I hadn’t even realized I missed: the first big snowfall of the year, when the prairie turned into a sea of white that stretched all the way to the horizon. The happy cluck-cluck of the chickens every morning when I brought them their feed. The warmth of the egg-laying shed in winter. Aunt Em’s apple pies. The way the prairie grass smelled in summer before the heat settled in to make us all miserable.
I’d never told anyone as much as I told the Nome King. Not Ozma, back when I thought we were friends. Not even Scare and Tin and the Lion the first time I traveled with them in Oz.
Back then, I’d spent the whole trip to the Emerald City chanting “home” like a mantra.
I stopped talking. Something unfamiliar was happening.
A lump. In my throat. It hurt terribly. Was I dying?
“Dorothy, you’re crying,” the Nome King said quietly. He brushed a tear from the corner of my eye with a long, silvery finger.
“Certainly not,” I said quickly, clearing my throat around the unfamiliar sensation. “I don’t know why I went on so. I don’t miss the Other Place for a minute. It was barren and boring.”
“Coming to Oz must have been very strange for you,” the Nome King said, drawing me forward again. I hadn’t realized we’d stopped walking.
“It was wonderful,” I said decidedly.
“I’m sure it was,” he agreed. “But to be separated from your family so young, orphaned like that, forced to make decisions as a ruler of a nation . . .”
I’d loved my family. That is why I’d brought them with me to Oz. But they were gone. I was here, and that was all that mattered. “I’m perfectly capable of handling pressure, if that’s what you mean,” I said coolly. This was going all wrong. I was supposed to be pretending to be vulnerable, not actually vulnerable. What on earth was wrong with me?
“I don’t doubt that,” he said with a smile.
He had led me to another hallway, this one much wider than the rest. The ceiling towered above us. The hall ended in a huge set of iron-bound wooden doors.
“Welcome to Major Hall, my ballroom,” he said, flinging the doors open.
I couldn’t help it. I gasped. Ballrooms were the cure for almost anything.
The Nome King’s ballroom was more than beautiful. It was magnificent. The ceiling was so far overhead it was lost in darkness. Massive ruby chandeliers, dark now, floated overhead, glittering redly in the scant light from the hallway. The floor was made of polished red stone.
I took a few steps into the enormous room. The click of my heels echoed eerily through the darkness. I was reminded of a Halloween haunted house Aunt Em had taken me to once long ago in the Other Place. There had been a room that felt like this. Vast. Empty.
But not entirely empty.
Haunted.
I was suddenly very aware of the fact that the Nome King and I were deep within the bowels of his palace.
And we were entirely alone.
A shiver ran through me.
Not fear.
Something else entirely.
I turned to him. “It’s perfect,” I said, and I meant it. I had no intention of dying here, of course, but he didn’t need to know that.
“I thought you might like it,” he said.
And, I realized, he meant it, too. For once we weren’t playing a game. We were standing in this enormous room, surrounded by darkness, two of the most powerful people in the world. Alone. Together. I stepped forward and let my hand slide down his arm. My fingers twined with his. He didn’t resist.
And so I kissed him.
His cool lips parted in surprise—and then he leaned into me and returned the kiss. His arms wrapped around me, his fingers tangled in my hair.
And I knew in that moment, whatever else was to come, whatever we might do to each other in the end, this moment was real. Neither one of us was pretending to be anything other than what we were.
But I couldn’t lose control. Because no matter what, I had to remember that this man intended to kill me. There was nothing about him I could trust.
Reluctantly, I broke away from him. I lowered my eyelashes, giving me time to recover my racing thoughts. I couldn’t let him see he’d caught me off guard.
“You are full of surprises, Dorothy Gale,” he murmured.
There was a shift in his tone. I could see in his eyes that he, too, had forgotten the game for a moment. So it was my turn to take advantage.
“I’d like our wedding to be very grand,” I said in the same hushed tone he’d just used. “Hundreds of guests.”
“Of course,” he said, his eyes a little glazed. But then his gaze sharpened. “Hundreds? I was thinking a more intimate affair.”
I’ll bet you were, I thought. Perhaps even his subjects drew the line at human sacrifice. If he was still planning on killing me, he wouldn’t want an audience.
But I needed Amy in the palace when I made my move. If I knew she was coming, I could defend myself against her. But with any luck, the Nome King wouldn’t. She was my backup plan: if Amy didn’t kill him, she could distract him long enough to give me a chance to escape. It was a risky plan, but I didn’t have a lot of options.
“I insist,” I said, my tone flirtatious. “I want a celebration that shows off your riches, my treasured love. I want your subjects to be able to appreciate your magnanimity and your largesse. My love, your kingdom is ever so much older and finer than Oz. Surely you have nobility . . . princes and princesses—dukes and duchesses—all sorts of important persons whom you wish to witness our union?”
“Why?” he asked.
I concealed my irritation with considerable effort. “Because that’s how it’s done, my darling,” I said. “In royal circles, anyway. The citizens of Ev don’t even know their future queen is among them.”
“You want a party?” I was getting used to his hairless eyebrow-arching, and recognized it as what he intended it to be.
“Not a party,” I clarified. “A wedding. With musicians, and canapés, and pretty dresses, and a battalion of servants, and a mandatory dress code, and a feast. Wine and spirits.”
Dress code. Inspiration hit me. Amy would have an even better chance of getting into the palace if the guests wore disguises. “In fact,” I said, “let’s make our wedding a costume ball. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
He looked at me for a long time. I could tell he was running through what I’d just said, trying to figure out what I was up to. The game was back on. I hid an exhilarated smile.
“That does sound fun,” he said thoughtfully. “I believe we once did that sort of thing here, ages ago. I even went to these balls you speak of. Though it’s been a century or two, and I do think fashions might have changed.”
“Balls never go out of fashion,” I said at once, pressing my advantage. “And how often will you be married, my darling?”
“Only once, I hope,” he said drily, looking at me. I kept my smile even and serene. “Would you like . . . help in planning our ball?”
“Just your guest list,” I said brightly. “And perhaps a few connections to the kitchen staff.”
He smiled, showing all his teeth. “Certainly, darling. Let me know if you need any help. But our wedding will take place tomorrow regardless.”
“Tomorrow?” I said, trying not to show my shock.
“I simply cannot wait a moment longer to be united with you forever,” he said.
“But that’s nowhere near enough time to plan a ball, let alone a wedding,” I protested. “These things take weeks. Months! I must insist on more time!”
“There is nothing you cannot do, my love,” he said with a smile that looked almost genuine. “I have utter faith in your abilities. Tomorrow morning we shall be wed.”
“Next week,” I said. “Give me a week, my treasure.”
He frowned, impatience stealing across his cadaverous features. “Tomorrow afternoon, if you insist.”
This was ridiculous. I had less than twenty-four hours to plan the most important day of my life? I wanted to throw something at him.
“Darling, it’s not possible,” I purred.
His frown deepened. “Are you reluctant to join our two kingdoms, Dorothy?”
There was no mistaking the veiled threat in his voice. Any stalling for time I did now, he would use against me. I knew, of course, the real reason he wanted to rush our nuptials, but I couldn’t show my hand. I had to play along.
“At least give me a day to prepare, my beloved,” I murmured, fluttering my eyelashes. “Can we agree on the stroke of midnight tomorrow night? After all, our guests will need time to travel to the palace.”
Impatience and doubt were replaced by amusement on his face. “My subjects do not live so far from the palace, dear Dorothy. I do not allow them to stray. Not the important ones, anyway. I find it convenient to keep them close if I need them—or if I need to punish them.” Involuntarily, he touched the knife at his side. I swallowed hard. “But I am aware that Oz’s customs are not Ev’s. Let us wed at midnight, as you wish. Shall I show you to your rooms now?”
I nodded, my mind racing, and let him guide me back to my chamber. His hand rested on the small of my back as we walked and I couldn’t shake the pleasure of his touch. At the door he leaned down and moved to kiss my cheek, but I turned my mouth to his instead.
This kiss was even more passionate than the first. And I saw with no small amount of satisfaction that he was breathing hard when he finally ended it.
“Good night, Dorothy,” he said quietly.
This time, he didn’t bother to lock my door.
“Mistress!” Bupu cried, leaping to her feet.
I clapped my hands. “All right, Bupu, no slacking about. We have work to do. Mistress is getting married tomorrow.”
“But—”
“No buts,” I said. “Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
“You are very clever,” Bupu breathed, her eyes huge.
“Yes,” I said. “I know.”
My first mission: better clothes and better food. And a source of cocktails. Finally, Bupu turned out to be useful; the Nome King seemed totally indifferent to the day-to-day mechanisms of his palace, but Bupu knew everyone from the humblest kitchen slave to the best seamstress. There was no time to sleep; I sent Bupu to her with a message to begin my costume immediately. As it turned out, Bupu also knew where the spirits were kept. I should’ve asked her ages ago.
The Nome King sent a secretary to my chamber to draft up a list of important and wealthy personages that ought to be invited to the nuptial ball, and I set him to work hand lettering invitations worded as thinly veiled commands. The absolute worst thing is throwing a party and having no one come; I figured threats would fill the room, even on such short notice. I had already figured out that the Nome King’s subjects took his commands very seriously. That was one more thing the Nome King and I had in common; we valued loyalty and obedience, and we weren’t afraid to enforce the things that were important to us.
I decided to costume myself as a serpent. Powerful, dramatic, deadly. But the scales of the dress would also bear my signature gingham print. I wanted the citizens of Ev to see their future queen looking her absolute finest. Who knew, maybe they’d even rally behind me. I entertained myself briefly with a fantasy of overthrowing the Nome King in a citizens’ rebellion and ruling Ev and Oz by myself, but soon dismissed those thoughts and turned back to my work. I had a lot to do, and very little time in which to do it. I had a seamstress to oversee, menus to revise, a bloodthirsty tyrant to either seduce or escape from, and the pungent but highly effective liquor in the Nome King’s stores wasn’t going to drink itself.