Yellow Brick War
Page 8
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
“Oh, great,” I snapped. “So I don’t mean anything to you.”
“Will you let me finish, Amy?” Now he sounded exasperated. “I knew you were different—that’s what I’m trying to tell you. From the very beginning. I haven’t had a lot of family in my life,” he added quietly. “Gert, Mombi, Glamora—as bad as they can be, they were all I had. Until you came along. I didn’t tell you because I knew they could call me in at any minute and I’d have to leave yet another thing I cared about. I guess I was dumb enough to think that ignoring the possibility would make it go away. Obviously, I was wrong.”
“Can’t I help you? Can’t I become part of the circle somehow, too?”
“Amy, I don’t think you can handle Oz’s magic much longer,” he said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked angrily. “You think I can’t handle myself? Why do you just do everything they tell you?” A sudden thought hit me. “You’re jealous,” I said. “You’re jealous of my power, and the fact that I could be strong enough to take down Dorothy. You know you need me and you don’t want to admit it—because that would be telling the Order that brave, perfect Nox can’t do it all on his own.”
“Listen to yourself, Amy,” he said quietly. “You accused me of doing the same thing when we first met. Remember?”
I didn’t want to think about it, but I knew exactly what he was talking about. The night when I was still training with the Wicked. When Gert had first provoked me into using magic, and I’d gotten so angry I couldn’t even think. Nox had whisked me away to show me the stars and calm me down. I’d yelled at him for always doing what the Order told him without thinking, and he’d told me how Dorothy and Glinda had killed his family and destroyed his village. He’d opened up to me for the first time, and I’d seen the depths of what haunted him. Of what Dorothy had taken from him. Compared to Nox, I’d lost hardly anything at all. And now here we were again, under a different set of stars, having the same fight.
“I remember,” I said. “But everything was different then.” Everything was simpler, I wanted to add.
“Do you really think I’m jealous of you?” Nox said. “How could I be? I’ve seen what Oz’s magic is doing to you. It’s tearing you apart. I can’t let that happen to you. I won’t. You know you can’t kill Dorothy. You’re bound to her somehow. And we know Dorothy has been hopelessly corrupted by Oz’s magic—and probably the Wizard, too. When he first came to Oz, he wasn’t evil—just bumbling. Every time you try to use your power you turn into a monster. If Oz’s magic doesn’t twist you into something unrecognizable, it’ll—” He stopped short.
“You think it’ll kill me.”
“I think there’s a strong possibility,” he said. “You can’t use Oz’s magic, Amy. Not now, not ever again.”
“It hasn’t killed Dorothy. Anyway, I can’t use magic at all here,” I said, throwing my hands up in the air. “So it’s kind of a moot point for the time being. But if my magic returns somehow, or if we get back to Oz—using magic is my choice to make. Not Gert’s. Not Mombi’s or Glamora’s. Not yours.”
“It isn’t just your choice, Amy,” he said, looking deep into my eyes. “I can’t just think about you. I have to think about all of Oz. If you turn into something like Dorothy . . .” He trailed off, tugging helplessly at the Quadrant cloak. “This is so much bigger than just us.” I knew what he meant; he didn’t have to say it out loud. If Oz’s magic made me into another Dorothy, he’d have to kill me, too. But being told what to do still stuck in my throat. Especially after Nox had refused to tell me the whole truth for all this time.
“You care about Oz more than you care about me,” I snapped, hurt and angry. I wanted to take the words back as soon as they were out of my mouth. Of course Nox cared more about Oz than he did about me. Oz was his country, his home, the only world he’d ever known. Oz was his entire life. I was a bitchy, needy teenager who’d crashed the party at the eleventh hour and learned how to be an assassin. If Oz’s magic corrupted me, it would be my own fault. Dorothy’d had no idea what the shoes would do to her. But me? I knew all too well the dangers of using magic in Oz.
“You know that’s not true,” he said. The reproach in his voice was gentle but unmistakable. I wondered how much damage I’d just done acting like a spoiled little kid. I could feel a new distance, like someone had hung a curtain between us. <
“Will you let me finish, Amy?” Now he sounded exasperated. “I knew you were different—that’s what I’m trying to tell you. From the very beginning. I haven’t had a lot of family in my life,” he added quietly. “Gert, Mombi, Glamora—as bad as they can be, they were all I had. Until you came along. I didn’t tell you because I knew they could call me in at any minute and I’d have to leave yet another thing I cared about. I guess I was dumb enough to think that ignoring the possibility would make it go away. Obviously, I was wrong.”
“Can’t I help you? Can’t I become part of the circle somehow, too?”
“Amy, I don’t think you can handle Oz’s magic much longer,” he said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked angrily. “You think I can’t handle myself? Why do you just do everything they tell you?” A sudden thought hit me. “You’re jealous,” I said. “You’re jealous of my power, and the fact that I could be strong enough to take down Dorothy. You know you need me and you don’t want to admit it—because that would be telling the Order that brave, perfect Nox can’t do it all on his own.”
“Listen to yourself, Amy,” he said quietly. “You accused me of doing the same thing when we first met. Remember?”
I didn’t want to think about it, but I knew exactly what he was talking about. The night when I was still training with the Wicked. When Gert had first provoked me into using magic, and I’d gotten so angry I couldn’t even think. Nox had whisked me away to show me the stars and calm me down. I’d yelled at him for always doing what the Order told him without thinking, and he’d told me how Dorothy and Glinda had killed his family and destroyed his village. He’d opened up to me for the first time, and I’d seen the depths of what haunted him. Of what Dorothy had taken from him. Compared to Nox, I’d lost hardly anything at all. And now here we were again, under a different set of stars, having the same fight.
“I remember,” I said. “But everything was different then.” Everything was simpler, I wanted to add.
“Do you really think I’m jealous of you?” Nox said. “How could I be? I’ve seen what Oz’s magic is doing to you. It’s tearing you apart. I can’t let that happen to you. I won’t. You know you can’t kill Dorothy. You’re bound to her somehow. And we know Dorothy has been hopelessly corrupted by Oz’s magic—and probably the Wizard, too. When he first came to Oz, he wasn’t evil—just bumbling. Every time you try to use your power you turn into a monster. If Oz’s magic doesn’t twist you into something unrecognizable, it’ll—” He stopped short.
“You think it’ll kill me.”
“I think there’s a strong possibility,” he said. “You can’t use Oz’s magic, Amy. Not now, not ever again.”
“It hasn’t killed Dorothy. Anyway, I can’t use magic at all here,” I said, throwing my hands up in the air. “So it’s kind of a moot point for the time being. But if my magic returns somehow, or if we get back to Oz—using magic is my choice to make. Not Gert’s. Not Mombi’s or Glamora’s. Not yours.”
“It isn’t just your choice, Amy,” he said, looking deep into my eyes. “I can’t just think about you. I have to think about all of Oz. If you turn into something like Dorothy . . .” He trailed off, tugging helplessly at the Quadrant cloak. “This is so much bigger than just us.” I knew what he meant; he didn’t have to say it out loud. If Oz’s magic made me into another Dorothy, he’d have to kill me, too. But being told what to do still stuck in my throat. Especially after Nox had refused to tell me the whole truth for all this time.
“You care about Oz more than you care about me,” I snapped, hurt and angry. I wanted to take the words back as soon as they were out of my mouth. Of course Nox cared more about Oz than he did about me. Oz was his country, his home, the only world he’d ever known. Oz was his entire life. I was a bitchy, needy teenager who’d crashed the party at the eleventh hour and learned how to be an assassin. If Oz’s magic corrupted me, it would be my own fault. Dorothy’d had no idea what the shoes would do to her. But me? I knew all too well the dangers of using magic in Oz.
“You know that’s not true,” he said. The reproach in his voice was gentle but unmistakable. I wondered how much damage I’d just done acting like a spoiled little kid. I could feel a new distance, like someone had hung a curtain between us. <
