The lead-up to Dorothy’s wedding was turning out to be a serious bummer.
Madison wouldn’t speak to me, and Nox and Lang were barely talking either—they’d almost gotten in a fistfight over some stupid argument about who got to have which knife. We weren’t a team—we were a circle of hate. If I didn’t rescue the mood, our chances of saving Oz from Dorothy and the Nome King were about as good as my chances of winning a Nobel Prize in physics. (Do they even have those?)
“We’d better get ready,” I said into the miserable silence. No one would even bother to look at me.
And then I lost my temper. Like, for real. Why was I trying to pretend everything was okay? If they didn’t get it together we were all going to die. Like, for real.
“Are you all children?” I snapped. “We’re about to take on the biggest bitch in Oz and you can’t even talk to each other?” I grabbed one of Lang’s knives off the table and threw it at the wall, where it hit with a resounding clang. “Get your shit together!” I yelled.
Madison jumped. Her scowl cracked. And she started to laugh.
“Dude, you should see your face right now,” she said. “You’re bright red.”
“I’m fucking pissed!” I yelled. And then I began to laugh, too. A second later Nox and Lang joined in. Lang’s beetle servants must have thought we were all nuts. But the laughter relieved the tension. And when we finally stopped, the air felt lighter.
“I have your disguises,” Lang said, wiping tears from her eyes. She wasn’t going to apologize, and neither was Nox, but they finally seemed willing to let the argument go at least. She snapped her fingers, and one of her beetles scuttled forward.
It showed us down a hallway I hadn’t noticed before to a huge room lined with mirrors, and piles of clothing stacked on a long bench. Madison stripped out of her jeans and sparkly T-shirt and I stepped out of my borrowed clothes.
“Whoa,” Madison said. “Where did she even get this stuff?” Her long blond hair hung down her back in loose bedhead waves, and her face—clear of the seventeen layers of lip gloss and foundation she typically applied—looked surprisingly young and almost vulnerable. Madison, I realized suddenly, was actually really pretty.
“They’re not clothes,” I said. “They’re costumes. Look.”
For Madison, there was a pair of tight leggings and a shirt covered with beautiful, shimmering silver scales and an elaborate, delicate headdress that suggested some kind of glorious tropical fish. I touched the leggings and realized they were made of some light but incredibly strong metal.
For me, Lang had provided a sleek fiery orange bodysuit painted with red and gold scales that gleamed softly in the light. They were made of the same material as Madison’s costume—flexible and almost weightless, but incredibly strong. A ribbed cape of thin, soft gold leather hooked on to the bodysuit at my shoulders and wrists and spread out to look like wings. The coolest part was the mask—a gold head shaped like a dragon, with fierce-looking ivory teeth showing in a snarl. As I put the mask on, it molded seamlessly to my face, the way Lang’s silver mask did. I couldn’t feel it at all. But when I touched my face, I felt how strong the material was.
Our costumes weren’t just costumes. They were armor. They fit perfectly. I had no idea if Lang had some kind of giant closet stuffed full of crazy outfits in all sizes or if she’d used magic to create them, but the costumes were beautiful and practical. I felt like I was wearing my old fighting gear back in Oz—the costume had the same familiar, protective feel.
We might not make it through Dorothy’s wedding alive. But at least we looked good. And pretty badass, if I said so myself.
I took the mask off for now; although it had molded to my face, it came off easily. I’d put it back on when we were under way.
“Dude, you look amazing,” Madison said, echoing my thoughts.
“So do you,” I replied.
She fidgeted. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. About all that Kansas stuff.”
“Forget it,” I said, meaning it. “I know you want to go back. You have someone to fight for now. I get it. It’s just that . . . Like I said, it’s not simple.”
“Dorothy just did the heel-clicking thing,” Mad said, looking down at my boots.
“Yeah, I don’t think they work like that anymore. Dorothy’s shoes also weren’t combat boots.” I sighed. “I’m going to find a way to get you home, Mad. I promise. No matter what it takes.”
“What about you?” she asked.
“Me?”
“If—when—you figure out how to get back. Are you going to come, too?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
She nodded. “I thought so.” She paused, as though she was trying to decide whether or not to say whatever she was thinking. “We’re going to die out there, aren’t we.” It wasn’t really a question. I felt a fierce surge of protectiveness.
“I am not going to let that happen,” I said firmly. “You’re going home, Madison. Nobody’s going to die except Dorothy.” I said the words with such conviction that I almost convinced myself. And why not? I’d faced worse odds before and survived.
Okay, maybe not worse. But definitely almost as bad. Besides, I was tough as hell. So was Madison. So was Nox. And I was pretty sure, tough as we all were, Lang was tougher in spades. Despite the insane risk we were taking, we were stronger together. This was what I had trained for, sacrificed for. This was what Nox had worked his whole life for. This was all Lang wanted.
Maybe, just maybe, we were going to make it.
“I’m going to find a way,” I said again. “As soon as this is over. You’re going back to Kansas.”
Madison looked at me for a long time. “Okay,” she said. “I’m gonna hold you to that.” I could tell the strength in my voice had reassured her.
Back in Lang’s main room, Nox’s expression confirmed how good Mad and I looked. The tension between Nox and Lang seemed to have finally dissipated, and I said a silent prayer of relief. The two of them had finished sorting through weapons, and had a whole stash of knives that could be easily hidden under our costumes. Nox was dressed as a panther, which seemed appropriate. His suit was velvety black, and a ferocious cat mask rested on the table, waiting for him to put it on.
“Good,” Lang said approvingly, looking Mad and me up and down. “Very good. Give me a moment to change, and we can leave.” She disappeared into her room. Nox put an arm around me, and I rested my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes briefly.
“I’ll just, um, get my stuff together,” Madison said, looking at us. She vanished into her own room and shut the door.
“Madison doesn’t have any stuff,” Nox said, confused.
“She’s giving us some time alone together,” I said, smiling at him.
Since it might be the last time alone together we ever get, I thought ruefully. But I didn’t truly believe that. I hadn’t come all this way to get killed underground at Dorothy’s stupid wedding. We were all going to make it out alive. I refused to allow anything else.
“Oh,” Nox said, understanding dawning on his face. “Right.”
He took my hand absently, playing with my fingers. Even though our conversation was serious, a thrill ran through me. It was just my luck to find the person of my dreams in a war-torn world where I was in danger of losing him any minute, I thought.
But maybe that was what life was like for everyone. Okay, so people weren’t literally on the verge of being killed all the time back in Kansas, but everyone around you was changing and growing all the time and turning into different people.
When my mom had turned into an addict, she’d completely wiped out the kind, generous, tough single mom who’d defended me against people like Madison. And when Madison had had a kid and lost everything, she’d become a person almost unrecognizable from the queen bitch she’d been before. No, that wasn’t true. She still had her humor. Only now that was on my side instead of working against me.
Nox had changed, but he had only gotten better. He was a good guy with a moral compass that was fixed on North. And now he was my guy, with the same compass, but with a heart that was open to me.
I squeezed my eyes shut again, harder, as if by wishing fiercely enough I could airlift us out of this world and into a safe, secret space of our own, where we could spend all the time we wanted learning everything there was to know each other.
But I knew better. I’d known better all along. Falling in love with Nox hadn’t changed why I’d been brought to Oz, and it didn’t change how much I wanted Oz to be free. And anyway, I knew Nox would never be happy with me if I asked him to choose. Oz was his home. It meant more to him than anything—more to him than I did. I couldn’t fault him for it, and I couldn’t ask him to give up on it, even if I wanted to.
“What are you thinking?” he asked softly.
“Nothing worth talking about,” I said honestly.
“You can tell me anything, Amy.”
“No, really, it’s okay. I just wish I knew everyone else was safe.”
“You know what it’s like over there.” He sighed. “None of us have ever been safe. Not in years, anyway. They’re tough. You saw them defeat Glinda. The Nome King’s been in Ev. I’m sure they’re fine. They’ll still be there when we get home.”
Home. That word again. The word that meant I had to choose—assuming I had the option. Was home here? Back with Lulu and Ozma and Gert and Mombi? Or was it in Kansas with my mom? I couldn’t imagine going back to high school—again—after all of this. The idea was so ridiculous I almost laughed. But there was so much in my own world I hadn’t experienced. I’d never even been outside Kansas.
Well, except to Oz. But Paris sounded pretty good, too. Maybe a nice beach on the Bahamas. Maybe college. I’d killed the Cowardly Lion; admissions essays would be a breeze after that.
There was so much I hadn’t done.
But Nox felt more like home than either Oz or Kansas. And if he was here, would I ever be happy in my own world?
“What do you want?” I asked suddenly, lifting my head and looking at him. “When all of this is over, I mean. When we win, and Dorothy’s gone, and the Nome King is—well, wherever we put him, I guess, and Ozma’s back in charge. What do you want to do then?”
He was silent for a long time. “It’s funny,” he said finally. “I never thought about it until . . .”
“Until?” I prompted.
“Until I met you,” he said simply.
“Oh,” I said, blushing.
He smiled, squeezing my hand. “I lost my parents when I was just a kid. And Mombi—well, you know what she’s like. I think in her own way she cared about me, but she wasn’t much of a mother. She raised me to think about nothing other than fighting, than becoming the best, most powerful warrior I could. For a long time, that seemed like the end goal in itself. And then I got stronger and stronger, and soon I was fighting all the time, and Dorothy was getting worse and worse, and it was just—things kept going like that, so that I didn’t have time to think about anything other than whether I was going to be alive the next morning to fight some more.”
“Like dominoes,” I said.
“Like what?” He looked puzzled.
“Oh, just a game we have in the Other Place,” I said. “Little tiles? You can set them up so that if you knock one over all the other ones . . . you know what, never mind.”
He laughed. “Okay, like that I guess. But that was it for me for a long time. I didn’t think about the future because deep down I assumed there wasn’t going to be one. And deep down I was fine with that. If I died fighting Dorothy, I would’ve made the ultimate sacrifice. I could finally just . . . rest. And I wouldn’t have to feel like I’d failed Oz, or the Order, or Mombi, or all the trainees I sent into the Emerald City knowing they were probably going to die, too.” The laughter was gone from his voice and his eyes were haunted. “It wasn’t just Melindra, Amy. So many people I sent to their deaths. So many of them were just children.”
“You can’t think like that,” I said urgently. “You can’t, Nox. It’s not your fault, it’s Dorothy’s. You didn’t kill them. She did. Everyone who trains with the Order knows what they’re getting into. I knew that from the moment I agreed to help Mombi. You’re the one who keeps telling me we’re at war. I don’t understand why you can’t tell yourself the same thing.”
“Because they were my responsibility,” he said roughly. “They were my charges, Amy. I trained them, every one of them. I knew their names, their stories, their hopes and dreams. I might not have believed in the future, but every last one of them did, or they never would’ve joined the Order.”
His pain was so raw and so apparent. I wished more than anything I could take it away from him. But, I realized, that was something I was learning, too. I couldn’t change his feelings. I could tell him what I thought, but he had his own path to work through. All I could do was support him through it and hope that someday he learned to forgive himself, that he realized he was caught in an impossible situation.
“What if you’d run away?” I said. “You’d hate yourself even more. You did the only thing you knew how to do, Nox. You did the only thing you knew how to do. Mombi brought you up to be a fighter, and you passed those skills on to a whole generation of trainees. Not all of us are dead, remember?”
He nodded, bringing my hand to his mouth. “You’re tougher than you give yourself credit for, Amy.”
“Thanks, but I still would’ve died without what you taught me about fighting and magic. ‘Tough’ doesn’t do much against Dorothy, or her armies, or the Lion. Remember? I’m alive because of you, Nox. Not because you saved me, even though you have. We’ve saved each other. I’m alive because you’re the one who taught me the skills I needed to survive. So is Lang. So is Melindra. So maybe you’re doing better than you give yourself credit for, too. Okay?”
He snorted softly. “Amy—”
“Nox, I mean it. I’m not gonna hear any more of this shit about how everyone who died in Oz is your fault. It’s the fault of the person who killed them, Nox. It’s Dorothy’s fault. Deal?”
He opened his mouth and shut it again, then shook his head. “I’m not there yet. I can’t see it that way.”
“I can.”
“I know,” he said. “And that’s one of the things that I love about you. You make me feel like . . . like there’s a reason for me not to give in to death.”
That left me breathless. I didn’t know what to say. What he was telling me now, I understood, was the most important thing another person had ever trusted me with. I felt like if I so much as breathed I’d shatter what was blossoming between us, like the night-blooming tirium he’d showed me what felt like a century ago.
“That’s the thing I want you to know,” he said in a low voice. “At first, when you came to the Order, I wanted to push you out. I wanted to make you leave. Because I could see it in you then, this goodness that you have, and I didn’t want you anywhere near us. I was terrified I’d have to send you to your death before you were ready, too, and one more untrained warrior on my conscience would’ve been too much. But it was more than that. You were different. You saw the world differently. When you looked at Oz, you saw what Dorothy had done—but you saw the beauty in it, too. You knew what it was like to feel wonder. And I hadn’t been around someone like that since I was just a child. Gert and Mombi knew it, too. They thought they could use what I felt for you to control me.” He took a deep, ragged breath. “And now here we are.”
I was so still I realized I’d forgotten to breathe. Silence spread over us like a blanket, sealing us into our own private world in the middle of Lang’s hideout. For this moment, this instant, it was just the two of us and the way we felt about each other, this huge, beautiful thing that I could finally say out loud.
“I love you,” I whispered. No matter how many times I said it, I knew I’d never get used to the feeling of the words in my mouth. The knowledge that it was true. That I’d never feel this way about anyone else again as long as I lived.
And neither would he.