And every room was full of mirrors—and heads. Patterned into the carpet, carved into the chairs and bedposts, paintings of heads on the walls, velvet curtains embroidered with heads.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Madison said under her breath as we crept slowly forward.
“Tell me about it,” I muttered. Nox held up his hand to hush us. Madison rolled her eyes at him, but he shook his head.
“I can hear something,” he hissed.
In the ensuing silence I strained to catch whatever it was he was talking about, and then I heard it, too: a faint scratching, as if a mouse was scrabbling through the walls a hundred yards away. It was coming from up ahead, and I was pretty sure that whatever it was it wasn’t a mouse.
Nox jerked his head forward, one eyebrow cocked, and I shrugged. What were we going to do—turn around, try to escape the courtyard, walk back to the Deadly Desert, and hope the Road of Yellow Brick showed up again? As my mom used to say once upon a time, before the pills anyway, there was no way out but through.
My mom—but no. I pushed that thought down as soon as it reared up. I couldn’t think about her right now
“Let’s do this,” I said, and strode forward toward the source of the noise.
The narrow hallway opened up suddenly into a room so enormous I almost tripped in surprise. A vaulted, cathedral-like ceiling soared upward. Huge, black marble columns formed two orderly lines leading to an immense throne at the far end of the room. The floor was polished to a blinding glow but that wasn’t the part that made all of us shield our eyes against the sudden, dazzling light: every surface in the room was covered in mirrors. Every wall, every shelf, every corner, every nook and cranny.
As my eyes slowly adjusted to the brilliance, I realized that cunningly placed windows allowed sunlight in at angles that maximized the sparkle. It felt like we were standing inside a giant disco ball with a strobe light going. The effect was disorienting but strangely beautiful—a strange, alternate-world echo of the shifting, sparkling mists at Rainbow Falls. But it was sinister, too: the fragmented mirrors made it look as though our heads were refracted hundreds of times, looking out in disembodied confusion from every angle no matter which way we turned.
The scratching sound was coming from the far end of the room, where a black-clad figure—the only other person in the enormous space—was bent over a table in front of the giant throne. Slowly, cautiously, we walked closer. The figure was a woman. She was wearing a loose, silky, black kimono-type outfit, embroidered with faces in delicate gold thread. Long, glossy black hair spilled down her back.
But her face was hidden behind an eerie, expressionless silver mask.
She had a ledger of some kind in front of her; the scratching was the sound of an old-fashioned quill pen moving across the rough paper as she filled out line after line of numbers, pausing occasionally to dip the nib in a ruby jar of pitch-black ink. She didn’t stop writing as we approached her, and she didn’t look up, even when the three of us had crossed the entire room and stood in front of her.
I stepped forward. “Hi, I’m Amy Gumm, and this—”
“I know who you are,” the woman said shortly, still not looking up. “Wait until I’m done.”
Somehow, the mask actually moved with her mouth. As if it was a part of her. As if it was her real face.
The three of us exchanged glances. Who was this chick? Langwidere’s inexplicably disguised secretary? Was her mission to slay us with rudeness?
I looked down at my glittering boots, wiggling my toes. Madison fidgeted. Only Nox stood straight and still, looking calmly ahead at nothing as if all of this was perfectly ordinary. He’d grown up in Oz; maybe for him, it was.
Finally the woman reached the end of a column and set down her pen. Her hands were beautifully shaped with long, pale, slender fingers. She pushed back her heavy black hair before looking up at us. Behind the mask, I caught a flash of extraordinary green eyes, gold-flecked like a cat’s.
“Well, well, well,” she said. “Look what the Wheelers dragged in.” The mask’s silver mouth smiled sardonically.
“We’re citizens of Oz,” Nox began. “We have no quarrel with your country. The Road of Yellow Brick brought us to—”
“Still lying through your teeth, even after all these years?” the woman asked. “Of course you have a quarrel with this country, Nox.”
She said his name like it was a curse word. Nox started.
“How do you know who I am?” he asked cautiously.
“Oh, Nox,” she said, her voice like ice. “I know all about you. You might choose not to remember the past, but I don’t forget. Anything.”
I looked at Nox, but his face was a blank. I knew he was as confused as I was. He’d never been to Ev before; how could he have met this woman? Who on earth was she?
The silver mouth opened wide, and she laughed—a cold, cruel laugh that sent a shiver down my spine.
This was definitely not a secretary.
I took a step forward. “Are you Princess Langwidere?” I asked, keeping my voice neutral. “I’m Amy. Amy Gumm. I’m with Nox and um, my friend Madison, and we didn’t mean to disturb you at all. In fact, we could totally just, um, leave,” I added brightly.
Okay, so maybe I wasn’t going to win any awards for diplomatic speeches. But still, I didn’t see a reason for this creepy chick to keep laughing at me.
“You’re the most recent conquest, I take it?” she said, when she was done chuckling. “You know you’re not the last in a very long line. Nox is quite the pretty boy, isn’t he? Always an eye for the ladies. So troubled and remote. ‘Only you can save him,’” she said mockingly.
“Look,” Nox said, his teeth gritted. Whoever she was, her barbs had landed. “I don’t know who you are, but you should really think about—”
“Oh, Nox,” she said. “Has it been so long? Have you really forgotten me so easily?”
Suddenly lines began to appear in the sinister mask. One by one, silver sections peeled away from her face like petals of a flower unfurling. As each section opened, the silver disappeared in a puff of gleaming smoke.
Underneath the mask her face was ordinary. Neither pretty nor plain. Something in the middle—a face almost remarkable for how completely unremarkable it was. I had the feeling if I glanced away from her I’d immediately forget what she looked like.
There was something almost uncanny about her ordinariness. Something almost . . . enchanted.
But next to me, Nox breathed out hard with a noise of total shock.
“Lanadel?” He was staring at her, his mouth actually open. I’d never, in all the time I’d known him, seen him so astonished. I looked back and forth between the two of them.
“Wait, you know her?” I asked. The air around her was charged with unmistakable, naked hostility as she stared Nox down, and to my utter surprise, he looked away first, his cheeks flooding with color. As if he was embarrassed—or ashamed.
“Who I used to be doesn’t matter anymore,” the woman said.
“But you’re—you’re—” Nox was still trying to get out a sentence.
“Not dead? Not so lucky for you, I’m afraid.”
“I didn’t—you weren’t supposed to—”
“Survive?” She smiled. “I’m so sorry to disappoint you, Nox. Listen, I don’t know why the road coughed you up at my doorstep, but this is not a good time to rehash our past.”
She stood up and walked away from us, the silky robe clinging to her body. As with her face, there was something almost impossible to pin down about it. She wasn’t tall, she wasn’t short, she wasn’t thin, she wasn’t curvy.
Somehow, everything about her avoided description. As if her whole being was a disguise.
“Why are you here?” she asked curtly.
I took a deep breath. I had no idea how Nox knew this woman, and I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to. But I could tell that she was on the verge of doing something bad. To all of us. And I needed us to get out
of her palace in one piece. All of us.
“We don’t know,” I said. “The truth is—”
“Amy,” Nox said, a warning note in his voice. I knew what he was hinting at. Telling this person everything might be incredibly stupid—especially if she was on the side of the Nome King. But somehow, I didn’t think she was. The road had brought us here for a reason. Maybe it had meant for us to meet her. Besides, I was tired of the Wicked way of doing things.
“Nox, no more secrets,” I said. I saw something flicker in Langwidere’s eyes—something that could have been respect. “Like I said, we don’t know why we’re here. The road brought us across the Deadly Desert and dumped us.”
I quickly explained how we’d ended up running away from Oz, the road whisking us off. I didn’t tell her everything, because that would have taken all day. But enough.
She didn’t say much while I explained—just stopped me a couple of times to ask more questions about the Nome King. When I told her that the Nome King and Glamora had killed Mombi, her eyes widened, but she didn’t comment.
Nox stayed quiet. It felt good to be the one making the decisions. And why shouldn’t I? I’d been through as much as he had in the time since I’d met him. I’d trained like crazy and fought like a warrior.
Nox wasn’t in charge of me anymore. We were equals.
When I was done talking, she was silent for a long time. Madison had sat down on the hard stone floor and rested her head on her knees. Despite her bravado, it was clear she was overwhelmed. I knew how she felt. And she didn’t have the grandmotherly Gert to help her adjust like I’d had. I was tempted to join her. I was exhausted—we all were. But I stood my ground.
“Lanadel,” Nox said suddenly. “Langwidere—how did you get here? What are you doing here?”
She walked to one of the narrow windows overlooking the wasteland outside. The mirrored walls refracted her every move as if we were in an amusement-park fun house. The effect was spooky and distracting—as she moved it got harder and harder to pin down which image was her and which was her reflection.
“After you and Mombi sent me here to spy, the Nome King captured me,” she said. She held up one slender wrist and I saw a thin silver bracelet from which dangled a glittering ruby padlock and key.
Wait a minute. This girl had been in the Order? What was going on? I stared at Nox but he shook his head, warning me to stay quiet. Quiet was not exactly something I did well.
“He . . . interrogated me for information about the Order,” she continued. Her voice was steady, but I thought about what I’d seen of “interrogations” in Dorothy’s palace, and shuddered. “When he had what he wanted, he turned me into his spy.”
“You work for the Nome King?” I interrupted. If that was the case, we were in trouble.
She shrugged. “I stay alive. For now, that means keeping him happy.”
“Does he know we’re here?” Nox asked.
“Well, I haven’t told him,” she said. “But I wouldn’t have to. And he’s as connected to the magic of Ev as you are to Oz. If the road brought you here, he probably felt it.”
“So we’re not safe here?” Madison asked from the floor, lifting her head.
Langwidere glanced at her and smiled without warmth. “In these times? You’re not safe anywhere.”
Madison stood up and glared at her. “Okay, fine. Then can you just kill us now? Because I’m really tired and I’m pretty sick of listening to people talk.”
For the first time since she’d taken her mask off, Langwidere looked startled. And then she started to laugh. This time, there was nothing cruel about it. It was the laughter of a much younger and more innocent girl. Maybe the person she’d once been, before the Nome King got to her.
I was starting to feel almost sorry for her. Almost.
“You can rest here,” she said. “For now, at least.” She glanced at Nox, her eyes hardening again. “Until I decide what to do with you.”
“So you’re keeping us prisoner?” Nox asked.
“I’m entertaining you as very honored guests.” She smiled mirthlessly. She’d said “honored” like it was a curse. “These are strange times,” she added, looking out the window again. “You’re the second visitors we’ve had from Oz in a matter of days. The Nome King’s up to something, and I want to know what it is.”
“The second visitors from Oz?” I asked.
She turned back to us and raised an eyebrow. “You mean you didn’t know?”
“Know what?” Nox asked.
“Dorothy’s here,” she said.
Nox and I looked at each other and then back at her. “Dorothy’s alive?”
“Very much so, I’m afraid.” She shrugged. “Until I kill her, that is.”
SEVEN
DOROTHY
I wasn’t sure I’d heard the Munchkin right.
“My wedding, Bupu? Whatever do you mean?”
She looked around anxiously. “It’s why he brought you here,” she whispered, as if the Nome King was standing behind us.
“He wants to marry me?” I didn’t blame him, of course, but I had to say I was surprised. In all the time I’d been in Oz, the Nome King hadn’t even tried to kiss me yet.
“I wasn’t supposed to tell you,” she said, hanging her head. “But you have been very nice to me. I wouldn’t like for the Nome King to hurt you, mistress.”
My gaze sharpened. “What do you mean, hurt me?”
She jumped back, alarmed, as if she had said too much. “Just that he hurts people! Mostly,” she added fearfully. “Maybe for you it will be different. Just ignore me.”
“Hmmm,” I said, pacing my chambers to try to get some of the soreness out of my muscles. “He’s up to something. But I can’t imagine what it is yet. It’s more than just marriage he’s after, I’ll bet all of Oz on it.”
Bupu nodded. “You are very wise, mistress.”
I sighed. “I know that, Bupu. But I need more information before I can figure out what to do next. Help me get ready, will you?”
I wanted to look my absolute best for my big rendezvous with the Nome King—I’ve always felt better when my ensemble is on point. But without magic, I was having trouble achieving the results I wanted. I brushed furiously at my hair, which was absolutely full of split ends. Disgusting. And I was willing to bet the miracle of conditioner had yet to reach Ev.
Bupu, bless her little heart, was more or less useless. She didn’t know a stiletto heel from a strainer, she couldn’t name a single type of fabric to save her life, and she’d clearly never dressed a member of the royal family, let alone done hair and makeup. I was going to have to do a lot on my own, and I was going to do it fast.
But surprising as it might sound, I was rather enjoying the challenge. I’d gotten soft in the Emerald City, I realized. Everyone was just so adoring all the time. My every whim was satisfied before I even whimmed it. I’d had rooms full of gorgeous dresses, plus all the magic in Oz at my disposal to alter them as I saw fit.
Here, I was outside of civilization—all I had was a wardrobe full of ball gowns the Nome King had selected himself, a grubby little servant with no experience, and, at least for now, no magic. Ensuring my style was up to my rigorous standards in these survival-only conditions was just the thing I needed to give me an extra dose of pep. Plus, as I realized when I examined myself in the mirror, I was a hot mess: battered, bruised, and haggard-looking. This was going to be a challenge for the ages.
It was already late in the afternoon, Bupu told me; I’d slept in, and our little chat after the Nome King’s visit had swallowed up the hours. If I wanted to look as beautiful as I was, I didn’t have much time to get myself in order.
As I pinched color into my cheeks and brushed my hair to a glossy shine, I thought about my new friend. Enemy. Whatever. I almost—almost—admired him. He was fearless and ruthless, he knew exactly what he wanted, and he refused to let other people’s motives and desires stand in his way.
When you got righ
t down to it, our styles had a lot in common. Committing to a big-picture vision takes serious guts, especially when everyone around you is telling you ridiculous things like your approach is too dictatorial, or you should factor in human—or Munchkin—rights. Where were the human rights defenders when I was growing up in filthy poverty in the middle of nowhere, I’d like to know? I had to feed the chickens at five in the morning—every single day! And on top of my endless chores, I had to put up with the doubts and snickers of all the other people in Kansas who refused to believe the magical things I’d seen in Oz. That kind of oppression would have had a lasting effect on someone who wasn’t as strong and determined as I was.
Luckily for me, I had an incredible wealth of inner resources.
“Draw my bath, Bupu,” I said, briskly flipping through the gowns he’d left for me. None of them were suitable, of course. The Nome King’s style seemed to veer directly toward crypt-keeper. Maybe he should have kidnapped a vampire princess and not an ex–farm girl turned royalty like me.
“I don’t suppose it’s possible for you to find me something that’s a color?” I added crabbily, fingering layer after layer of black. I limped around the room, trying doors—most of them locked tight—until I opened one that led to a bathroom. Bupu was right on my heels, eager to help.
But from what I could see, I wasn’t going to need Bupu to fill my bath after all. A marble pool was already filling with steaming water as if it could read my mind. I happily discarded the Nome King’s creepy lingerie and slid into the water, hissing sharply as my battered flesh came into contact with the hot liquid.
“Oh no!” Bupu cried at the sight of my cuts and scrapes. She bustled about clumsily, returning with some kind of ointment that smelled like mold and looked like rotten flesh. “This will help,” she said. “Made from the finest healing funguses.” Mushrooms were apparently the cornerstone of everything around here.
“Oh, that’s all right,” I began, but the little Munchkin was already smearing the horrible-smelling stuff on my bruised shoulders. And while it was going to take another bath altogether to get rid of the stench, to my surprise the ointment actually worked. A soothing warmth spread through my muscles, and I sank back into the water with a sigh, allowing her to rub the salve gently into the rest of my bruises.