“Only one, mistress.”
Well, I’d just better be sure I killed him, then, if I couldn’t make him fall in love with me. A single exit from what was, I was sure, going to be a very well-guarded event? Even at the height of my powers that would have made for a tricky escape. And while my shoes seemed to be waking up again—or whatever it was they were doing—I could tell my magic was still hard to access this far from Oz. It made sense that the shoes would work here, if they’d really come from the Nome King somehow. And it made sense, too, that my own magic would work best in Oz. But if I could practice with the shoes maybe I could find a way to amplify my power.
Except that based on what had happened at that sad excuse for a banquet, the Nome King could tell if I used them.
But there was another weapon I could use against him if I had to.
Amy Gumm.
I sighed heavily.
And, right on cue, the door opened.
“Oh, hello, darling,” I cooed, jumping to my feet. Thanks to Bupu’s efforts, my hair spilled around my shoulders in glossy waves, and I was still wearing the dress I’d put on for the Nome King’s banquet. It wasn’t my best look by a long shot, but I’m an enterprising girl.
The Nome King did not look thrilled at the sight of me.
“Don’t think you can fool me, Dorothy,” he growled. All pretense of the dashing suitor was gone. His tone was threatening.
I widened my eyes and looked up at him prettily through my lashes. I’d be wasting my time playing dumb at this point. But I could still take him by surprise.
“You need me,” I purred. “So be a little nicer.”
To my satisfaction, he actually looked taken aback. And then he laughed.
“You are a prisoner in my kingdom who couldn’t use magic until an hour ago,” he said. “And I’m guessing you’re not up to full strength quite yet. I hardly think I need you.”
“I’m your guest, not your prisoner. Be respectful when you address me,” I snapped. “I’m not some dimwit glitterball like Glinda. You don’t have any idea who it is you’re trifling with. I can make you regret the day you were born, you doddering old coot.”
His face contorted into a frown. Well. That got his attention.
“I’m not trying to trick you,” I added with dignity. “Believe me, I have no idea what happened back there.” That was the truth and I made sure to look him in the eye when I said it. “And I have no idea how—or if—I could make anything like that happen again.”
So that was maybe the teensiest fib. I knew my magic was back. I just didn’t know to what extent. Or if I could even harness it fully. So it lent my little white lie the gloss of truth. He looked closely at my face and then seemed satisfied.
“When we are married, my darling, there will never be any secrets between us,” I promised, batting my eyelashes again. Other than the fact that you want to kill me, I thought. But really, over my dead body. I’d find a way to stop him come hell or high water.
“Of course not,” he said smoothly. His smile was bland and pleasant now.
He knows I’m lying, I thought. He just doesn’t know what about.
I moved quickly to distract him. “Darling, perhaps you’ll allow me to make a few . . . suggestions about the wedding,” I purred again, looping my arm through his. “Might I see the venue? And the rest of your palace? I’ve barely set foot outside these lovely rooms since you brought me here.” I refrained from adding that this was because he’d locked me in them.
He cocked his head at me. I knew he was trying to figure out what I was up to. But apparently he decided there was no harm in showing me around a little.
“As you wish,” he said gravely, bowing like a perfect gentleman and opening the door for me. I gave Bupu a wink over his shoulder. She nodded fiercely. “First, I will show you the palace. And then the cavern where our wedding will take place.”
Well, the grand tour was a grand disappointment. Just a bunch of miserable old caverns and dusty tapestries and creepy staircases that went nowhere.
Sure, some of the caves were sort of cool, if you were into that kind of thing—glowing crystals, and weird underground springs that ran into underground rivers, and tunnels that led you around in circles. Caverns that were obviously storerooms that hadn’t been touched in decades: dust-covered wooden barrels full of who knows what. Ancient weapons: spike-balled maces so heavy I couldn’t lift them, huge crossbows that seemed designed for giants, cannons rusted into immobility.
The Nome King droned on about the history of his various ancestors, and, although I tuned out his sonorous voice, I was acutely conscious of the weight of his arm in mine. He hadn’t changed either. He was still dressed in his velvet suit. The material was soft and cool against my skin.
“How fascinating,” I murmured, every time he paused. At least he seemed to have relaxed.
It was as though he’d never had anyone to listen to him before. Some men were like that; let them get going, and they’d never stop. It never occurred to them to ask if anybody else wanted to talk about herself. As if I had nothing interesting to say.
Then again, maybe he was just lonely.
As he talked, I surreptitiously looked around me, trying to memorize the layout of the palace. But it was an absolute maze. Every corridor branched off into a thousand others. Every room looked like a room I’d passed already.
And everywhere, I realized, the hallways were empty.
The Nome King had his forces. His Munchkins and his Diggers and the other Nomes I’d briefly seen at the banquet. But the palace dwellers were engulfed by this enormous place, rattling around like peas in a glass jar. No wonder he needed my magic. As powerful as he was, his forces were nowhere near enough to take Oz. It all came down to him.
And that, I understood. Because at the end of the day, while I’d had armies at my disposal, Oz was all about me. It was exhilarating, having that kind of power. But it was also isolating. A huge responsibility.
The more time I spent with him, the more I realized how much alike we were. But the Nome King could have learned a thing or two from me—I had kept Tin, Scare, and the Lion around for a reason. Not just because they were useful. They were also company.
“But you must be bored with all of this,” he said suddenly, as if he’d read my mind. “Tell me about the history of Dorothy Gale.”
“You mean, how I came to rule Oz?” I asked, blinking up at him.
“No,” he said. “Your history before.”
“I prefer not to talk about that.”
I never talked about the Other Place. I had had people’s fingers cut off at the mere mention.
“But, darling, how are we ever going to know each other if we don’t . . . share?” he asked.
I hesitated. I needed him to trust me. Was this the price of admission?