Despite the cavern’s size, the air was sweltering. Stern-faced sentries ringed the cavern, pale as birds’ eggs and lean as skeletons. Instead of costumes, they wore armor plated together from tarnished steel and patches of leather. Their bare chests were decorated with intricate designs made, Lang had told us, by cutting into their own flesh and packing the wounds with coal dust. They held spears and swords and other, even more sinister weapons that made my skin crawl just to look at: spiky iron balls that dangled from long chains, wooden staves bristling with iron nails, leather whips with steel-barbed tails. I guessed the Nome King liked to remind his guests that they were there thanks to his generosity, and misbehavior was punishable—by death. The Nome King himself was nowhere in sight.
Most of the guests had used the masquerade as an excuse to bare as much skin as possible. They were dressed as old-fashioned courtiers, in elaborate powdered white wigs, velvet suitcoats with tails, and dresses cut dangerously low. Women dripped with jewels, their fingers blazing with golden, gem-studded rings, their exposed skin dusted with glitter and sweat. Even the men wore jewelry in the Nome King’s ballroom: ruby-decorated cuffs and rings, a nod to the Nome King’s favorite stone. I thought of the people we’d seen starving aboveground and how many of them could be fed with what just one of those bracelets cost. Then I put the thought out of my mind. That wasn’t why we were here.
The guests circulated in the immense cave, sipping bloodred liquor from red goblets. The room was as still and quiet as outer space. Half of the attendees were using the opportunity to eat as much as they could.
I snatched a goblet from a passing servant’s tray and took a drink, the heady liquor burning the back of my throat and giving me courage. I noticed that Lang was talking with a man dressed as a fairy. Huge wings of wire and gossamer blossomed from his back, and he wore a crown of onyx and garnet gems. I had no love for the Nome King, but I had to admit, grudgingly, that he threw a good party.
I stayed where I was, directly in front of the raised dais where the ceremony was obviously to take place. It was currently empty. That was when I realized: I hadn’t said good-bye to Nox. Which really meant that dying was not an option. He looked at me, and even behind his mask, his gaze said everything it needed to. He took my hand and squeezed it briefly, before he let me go for good and disappeared into the crowd.
I didn’t see Madison. I could only hope that she was doing what she was supposed to—staying out of sight, and out of harm’s way.
A noise like a clap of thunder suddenly shook the cathedral-like room. The music cut out and the guests immediately fell silent, apprehension spreading across their faces. A fissure in the wall on the far side of the room split open, revealing a yawning black doorway through which more guards carried an immense ruby and obsidian throne. The Nome King lounged in the throne, one black-clad leg thrown over the armrest and dangling lazily. He wore a spiky iron crown on his bald head and a black leather suit with no shirt, the jacket unbuttoned and revealing his pale, hairless torso. Around his neck, a single enormous ruby dangled from a thick iron chain. His long silver nails, filed to sharp tips, matched his pointy-toed black boots that were tipped with shining steel. I took special note of the huge, evil-looking knife strapped to his belt, and shuddered.
The guards set his throne down on the raised dais and immediately prostrated themselves, touching their foreheads to the floor. The guests followed suit, throwing themselves to the ground frantically so as not to be the last person left standing. I quickly did the same.
“Greetings, my loyal and devoted subjects,” the Nome King said. Though he didn’t raise his voice, it carried easily across the huge room. He put the slightest sneer into “loyal,” like he knew most of his subjects were no such thing. They weren’t loyal—they were just terrified of him. “Thank you all for attending my little party.” As if they’d had any other choice, I thought. “Please, treasured peers of the realm, do not bow before your king,” he added. No one moved. No one wanted to be the first to rise.
“Up, up,” the Nome King said impatiently, and at that his guests scrambled to their feet. He looked even more pleased with himself than usual, and that was saying a lot. It wasn’t until he looked over his shoulder that I realized there was a figure standing in the shadows behind him. A figure that, upon his glance, now stepped forward.
I sucked in a breath and took a step back, trying to stay out of sight behind the giant, feathered hat of a woman standing in front of me.
Dorothy. Her skin was pale and flushed from the heat under her elaborate, jeweled mask. She had chosen an appropriate costume: she was dressed as a serpent in a slinky, skintight red dress, encrusted with thousands of tiny red sequins that created the illusion of scales. It was cinched tightly at her tiny waist and then flared out in sinuous curves over her hips and long legs. Her red heels glittered on her feet.
“Dearly beloved,” the Nome King began. “We are gathered here today to . . . oh, wait, I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I?” The Nome King gave a sly, fey giggle and nervous laughter rippled outward among his confused subjects, none of whom understood what was funny but all of whom were eager to assure him they were in on his private joke. “That part comes later. I’m sure you’re all wondering why you’re here. Other than to drink my liquor and eat my food.” He laughed again. “But I have wonderful news for you. As you all surely know, the kingdom of Oz has long been a thorn in our royal side. While Ev withers and its crops fail, Oz prospers. Instead of offering us their assistance, the citizens of Oz live in oblivious selfishness.” Dorothy cleared her throat. The Nome King’s bony hands tightened into fists.
“Today,” he continued, “all of that will change. For today marks the day that Oz and Ev will be united as one. Two kingdoms, once sundered, brought together in peace and prosperity, governed by the most powerful and benevolent ruler either country has ever known.” Next to him, Dorothy stiffened. If I’d caught his misstep, I knew she had, too. One ruler. Not two.
It wasn’t hard to guess what that meant.
“All of you have the honor of witnessing the greatest moment in Ev’s history,” the Nome King continued, not realizing the mistake he’d just made.
He beckoned for Dorothy, who walked daintily up to the Nome King’s throne, where he rose to his feet and clasped her hand in his and raised them both over his head for the crowd.
“My fellow citizens of Ev,” the Nome King intoned, “prepare yourselves for—”
Dorothy cleared her throat again, more significantly this time, and the Nome King stopped, looking at her in puzzlement. If she suspected, like I did, that he was planning on sacrificing her right here, in front of the entire crowd, she didn’t look too worried about it.
Instinctively I looked at her shoes again and felt an answering throb in my boots.
It dawned on me. Of course, I thought. She can use them. That bitch always had something up her sleeve, didn’t she?