Dorothy Must Die
Page 98

No one knew what to do—the idea of a royal decree being interrupted was so preposterous that even Dorothy had frozen, her face bright red. I heard some boos from the crowd, but a larger part was silent, some leaning intently forward, whispering among themselves. Others edged toward the exits, not wanting to be involved in whatever came next.
I looked over to where the Wizard had been standing and saw that he was gone. But where?
Dorothy stomped her ruby-wrapped feet, more like a spoiled child than a regal princess. “Stop it! I trusted you!”
Jellia turned toward her and, as she did, Dorothy pointed an angry finger at her. It began to glow.
My knife suddenly appeared in my hand, almost without me realizing it, but no one else noticed—everyone’s attention was firmly on Jellia and Dorothy.
A crackling bolt of electricity shot from Dorothy’s finger, straight toward her former maid. Jellia raised a palm as if to say Stop, and it bounced right off her, curling back in Dorothy’s direction. Dorothy gasped, but the Tin Woodman flung himself in front of her just in time to absorb the spell, sparks hopping across his metal body.
“Kill her!” Dorothy screamed.
Jellia’s outstretched hand began to glow. But before whatever spell she was casting could fully coalesce, the Lion bounded forward and sunk his teeth into Jellia’s shoulder. She screamed as the Lion tore into her, shaking her back and forth until her arm came completely off with a sick tearing sound. Those closest to the thrones, including Dorothy, were sprayed with Jellia’s blood.
Now people were screaming, running toward the exits. Others remained, too scared to even flee without official dismissal from Dorothy. I stood, frozen, in the midst of the chaos.
The Lion flung his head back—for a moment Jellia’s hand was visible between his teeth, then it disappeared down his throat.
“Stay and watch!” the Lion bellowed at the crowd. “See what happens when you raise a hand against the princess!”
Released from the Lion’s maw, Jellia crumpled to the floor. Her face was deathly pale, but her eyes finally met mine, her wide eyes serene and unwavering. I felt my knife charging with magical energy. I wasn’t sure if it was me doing it or the weapon itself—I didn’t care. I couldn’t let her suffer for what I’d done.
I took a step forward, but someone grabbed me by the shoulder.
“No,” a voice whispered in my ear. I sucked in my breath. “She knew the risks. She knows what she’s doing. She was willing to sacrifice herself for you. Don’t make it for nothing.”
I didn’t turn around. I didn’t need to. I knew that voice. It was Nox.
The Lion loomed over Jellia, one mammoth paw poised to open her throat. The Scarecrow stepped forward suddenly, putting himself between the Lion and Jellia, his stitched mouth crooked into a smooth smile.
“I want her alive,” he said. “I can devise a more appropriate punishment than this barbarism.”
The Lion roared, not lowering his claws. He glanced over at Dorothy.
She stood looking down at Jellia, her cold expression in stark contrast to the atomic glow emanating from her red shoes. The crowd went quiet again, collectively inching backward, as if preparing for her wrath. At her feet, the Tin Woodman had managed to pull himself onto his knees, still smarting from Jellia’s spell. He grasped the hem of Dorothy’s dress and tried to thumb away a spattering of Jellia’s blood. Dorothy slapped his hand away.
“Scarecrow, take her away,” Dorothy said quietly.
As the Lion and the Scarecrow yanked Jellia to her feet, Dorothy swung her gaze over the crowd. Her cheek was mottled with pinpricks of Jellia’s blood.
“Let this be a lesson to all of you,” she said quietly, although her voice carried through the throne room. “This is where revolution will get you. In Dorothy’s Oz, there is no room for the Wicked.”
“Nox?” I whispered urgently, caught up in the rush of the crowd leaving the throne room. I wasn’t sure where he was, or even who he was. I was certain he’d be wearing someone else’s face, like me. I didn’t want to lose him, not now.
A guy in front of me in a pointed hat with little bells on the brim—part of a juggling troupe, I think—looked over his shoulder at me. He had blond hair and pale skin and a face I didn’t recognize.
“Not now,” he said. His voice was all Nox. Luckily, everyone was chattering so loudly that they couldn’t hear us. “Go to your room,” he ordered. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Then he pushed his way into the sea of people and was gone.
He must’ve known everything. That I’d jeopardized my mission in order to free Maude, and that Jellia was forced to sacrifice herself because of me. That’s what he meant when he whispered to me, I was sure of it. I was responsible for Jellia’s horrible fate, but how could I not have tried freeing Maude? It was the right thing to do. At least, it seemed so at the time. Now, it seemed like I’d merely traded Maude for Jellia. The Scarecrow’s laboratory wouldn’t be empty for long. I felt sick to my stomach.
Back in my room I sat on my bed, too full of nervous energy and confusion to even move. I picked Star up and held her, trying to calm myself down. It didn’t work. I watched the door, waiting for it to open.
Instead, after what felt like an hour but was probably more like fifteen minutes, Nox’s image appeared in the mirror, and he stepped right into my room.
He was still in disguise, still had the yellow hair and round face that looked nothing like his own. But it was him.