“No matter what,” he said firmly, feeling stronger and better as each word landed. At that, Glinda threw back her head and laughed even harder. “Oh, Lion,” she chuckled. “Silly, silly Cowardly Lion. You don’t understand, do you? I’m not giving you a choice.” She flicked her wrists, and bolts of pink lightning shot toward the Lion’s chest. At the last second, Ozma made a slashing motion, and a wall of green energy sprung up around the Lion. Glinda’s bolts slammed into Ozma’s force field and splintered harmlessly, crackling and smoking.
He realized at that moment that Glinda hadn’t wanted him to protect Ozma from danger. Glinda was the danger.
“You’ve enchanted one of my subjects without my consent, barged into my palace, and now you want to steal something that isn’t yours from under my nose?” Ozma snarled. “After all your promises to help me? We could have been friends, you know.”
Glinda hissed, her terrifyingly rigid smile turning to a scowl. “Are you kidding me, you little ingrate? I made you queen, and this is how you repay me? By throwing me out of the Emerald Palace and accusing me of treason? The Scarecrow might have been an incompetent idiot, but at least he knew his place.”
“He’s not an idiot!” the Lion protested. Both Glinda and Ozma glanced at him as if they had only just remembered he was there before returning to stare at each other, the air between them crackling with energy.
“What have you done with it, Ozma?”
“I’m not going to tell you,” Ozma said coldly. The Lion blinked. Glinda didn’t know where the necklace actually was—she just knew one of them had it, and of course she’d assumed it was Ozma. If he could get out of the throne room unnoticed, he could hide it somewhere safe until Ozma took care of Glinda. Once the coast was clear, he’d give it back to Ozma and restore her faith in him. It was a plan worthy of the Scarecrow himself.
The air around Glinda was glowing pink and turquoise. She raised her hands, crackling bolts of energy forming between her fingers.
“Do you really want to do this, Glinda?” Ozma said grimly. “Battle me in my own palace? Declare war on the Queen of Oz?”
“It’s only your palace because I put you in it,” Glinda snarled, hurling a bolt of energy at Ozma’s head. “I can take you out of it just as easily.”
Ozma flicked her fingers, and Glinda’s magic crashed into the wall behind her, leaving a smoking crater. “I’m giving you one last chance, Glinda,” she said. “Leave now, and we can forget about this.”
In response, Glinda threw another bolt of magic at Ozma. Ozma dodged it neatly, rolling her eyes. “Fine,” she said in exasperation. “You know, I’ve had a really long day. All I want is to go to bed. But apparently a queen’s work is never done.”
“There’s no rest for the Wicked,” Glinda snapped. Ozma threw up another shield just in time as Glinda sent more magic at her. The Lion was torn, unsure of what to do or who to fight for, but feeling ready to pounce. He had never had much use for magic, but watching them fight he wished he had some of his own. “You were supposed to be the good witch,” Ozma said, returning Glinda’s fire. Glinda ducked and flew out of range.
“You were supposed to be a good investment,” she snapped. “You don’t know the first thing about ruling a country. You should have listened to me.”
“Since you’re such an expert?” Ozma flicked her fingers, and green lightning crackled toward Glinda. Glinda waved one hand, and the energy fizzled into tiny sparks. The Lion took a step toward the door, and then another. Self-preservation had kicked in, finally ruling out over his desire to know who would win this fight. He was almost clear of the throne room.
“I know a lot more than you do, child,” Glinda hissed.
“I’m not a child!” Ozma yelled. “I’m the last of the line of Lurline and the rightful ruler of Oz!”
“Oh, Lurline,” Glinda simpered mockingly. “Nobody even cares about that old story. Next you’re going to try and sell me on some bogus hooey about tapping into the Deep Magic of Oz in order to be a better queen. Face it, honey: you like that throne, but that doesn’t mean you’re qualified for it. If you’d listened to me from the beginning, none of this would have happened. You’d still be in power, and I’d be right behind you.”
“I am still in power,” Ozma said. “And I’m enjoying it a lot more without you breathing down my neck.” She whipped a fireball at Glinda so quickly that the witch didn’t have time to get out of the way. It hit her solidly in the chest, and she shrieked in rage as her dress began to blacken and burn. Glinda slapped at her chest with one hand, pink spreading outward again to replace the blackened burned sections.
“Don’t you dare ruin my dress!” Glinda screamed, hurtling toward Ozma with her fingers outstretched. The Lion saw his chance. He turned around and bolted for the door—and slammed into an invisible wall.
“Not so fast, dear Lion,” Glinda said from directly behind him. “I think I know where my necklace is.” An invisible hand gripped his tail, dragging him backward. He tried to sink his claws in the stone floor, but Glinda’s magic pulled him toward the center of the room.
“Leave him out of this,” Ozma growled. “You’ve done enough damage to my friends.”