Now I had to kill him instead. At the very least, I had to escape him, but that wasn’t going to be an acceptable long-term solution. He could travel back and forth between Oz and Ev, he wanted my shoes, and he’d stop at nothing to get them. Even if I managed to evade his clutches tomorrow night, he’d never stop until he hunted me down and got what he wanted.
And if Amy didn’t do my dirty work for me the way I’d planned? I’d made sure the Nome King’s secretary sent invitations to every corner of Ev, but with so little time before the wedding, it was possible word wouldn’t reach her until it was too late. I couldn’t depend on her being there to cause the distraction I needed, which meant I needed a backup plan—and fast.
Someone pounded frantically on my bedroom door, and Bupu dropped her hairbrush, rushing to see who wanted me now. It turned out to be the seamstress, her arms piled high with my outfit.
“It took you long enough,” I said irritably. “I gave the orders hours ago. Now I’ll barely have time for the custom fitting. Do you want me to look terrible?”
The seamstress, a pasty, sad-looking Munchkin like Bupu, shook her head. “N-N-No,” she whispered fearfully. I liked her respectful attitude. The Nome King clearly had a lot of problems, but ensuring proper behavior in his servants wasn’t one of them.
“Bring it here,” I said, beckoning. “Ugh, are your fingers bleeding? Disgusting! Clean yourself at once!” Bupu marched the trembling seamstress to the bathroom to clean up and I sighed again. The buffoon couldn’t complete a rush order without making a mess of herself? What was I supposed to do with that? I had a wedding to prepare for, an assassination attempt to thwart, a tyrant to escape, and a kingdom to return to—I did not have time to babysit the help.
When Bupu returned with the seamstress, trembling visibly, to my chamber, her fingertips were bandaged. “Let’s get this thing fitted,” I said. “If you stick me with a pin, I’ll have the Nome King tear your fingers off one by one and make you eat them.” I didn’t think it was possible for her eyes to get any bigger, but at that, they did.
“Y-Y-Y-Yes, Your Majesty,” she babbled, gathering up my costume and advancing toward me. “As you wish.”
I rolled my eyes and stood still as the seamstress arranged drapes and folds of fabric around me, making minute adjustments here and there. Fine, so my costume was taken care of. On closer inspection, her work wasn’t half bad. I’d look amazing, and that was half the battle fought already. Now what I needed was a plan.
“All right, Bupu,” I said after the seamstress left, making a decision. “Come here.” I beckoned her close, and the Munchkin put her ear next to my lips. “Are you ready? Here’s what we’re going to do. . . .”
SIXTEEN
Despite Lang’s admonition that we needed to leave quickly, she didn’t want Madison going into the Nome King’s banquet hall completely unprepared. While Nox and I looked through her stash of weapons to see what we could hide under our clothes, Lang ran Mad through fight combinations in the main room until Madison’s face was shiny with sweat.
“Your friend’s a quick study,” Lang said. Madison beamed with pride.
“Show me,” Nox said. Unlike the two of them, he was serious. Deadly serious. It was like a cloud had descended on him, transforming him back into the battle-focused, emotionless warrior he pretended to be. I wondered what would have happened if I’d never learned there was a completely different person underneath the stony facade.
“Okay,” Madison said.
She faced Nox confidently, squaring off into a fighter’s stance. She was still in good shape, I noticed; her pre-baby aerobics regimen had given her toned arms and shoulders and muscular legs. Madison and Nox circled each other in the open space beyond the table. Madison already moved like someone who knew what she was doing.
But when Nox launched a lightning-quick jab, she was too slow to deflect it. To be fair, I probably couldn’t have deflected it either. I’d turned into an excellent fighter, but Nox had been training since he was a child. I doubted even Lang could fend him off for long.
Madison threw a punch and Nox dodged it easily, but I could tell from where I stood that there had been serious power behind the blow, and Nox nodded. “Good.”
“Not that good,” Madison said drily, “since I didn’t actually hit you.”
“You’re strong,” Nox said, lashing out again. This time, Madison was almost able to block the punch. “Very good.”
“I told you,” Lang said, the edge back in her voice. “Are you trying to suggest I need your help to teach someone how to fight?”
“Just making sure you did a good job,” Nox said. I almost groaned aloud. It was pretty much the worst thing he could have said, and he realized it a second after I did. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“Didn’t mean to imply I wouldn’t?” Lang said icily. Madison swung a right hook at Nox’s jaw, but even distracted he knocked her fist aside. Madison gritted her teeth. I knew exactly how she felt. Fighting Nox could be infuriating. He made the impossible look effortless. Madison was no more a threat to his defenses than a mosquito.
He danced back and dropped his fists. Madison looked like she wanted to charge him and land a punch for good measure, but she put her hands on her hips and cocked her head instead. “Do I pass?” she asked.
“Your reflexes are good and you’re strong,” Nox said. “But you wouldn’t last a minute against a trained fighter. With time, you’ve got a lot of potential. But I want you to stay as far away as you can from any fighting at the wedding. Got that?”
“Is this your plan now?” Lang asked sharply. Nox looked at her in exasperation.
“You know as well as I do that you can’t turn an untrained novice into a fighter in an hour, and implying anything otherwise is setting her up for danger. She’s not safe in a fight. She has no experience.”
“She does, too,” I said, and Madison shot me an apologetic grin.
“Ancient history, Ames,” she said.
“Not that ancient.”
“I apologized!”
“Enough,” Nox said sharply. The rebuke stung. I’d thought we were past the part where he tried to boss me around. But I didn’t want to give Lang the satisfaction of arguing with him in front of her.
“He’s right. This is serious business,” I said. “We’re all risking our lives tonight. It’s nothing to joke about.”
Madison sighed. “I just wanted to feel a little more prepared,” she said quietly.
“Why don’t we try sparring for a few minutes,” I suggested. The last thing we needed was Madison freaking out. “Nox and Lang can pick out weapons instead of me. I’ll show you what I can.”
Madison looked between Nox and Lang with one eyebrow raised, but shrugged. “Sure,” she said. “If I’m going to die, at least I’ll get in a workout first.”
I ran Madison through a few new combinations, careful not to tire her out. Nox was right: her reflexes were great, and she knew how to use her strength and her weight. With a little time, she’d be an excellent fighter.
Too bad we didn’t have any.