Yellow Brick War (Dorothy Must Die, #3)

His eyes widened. “It won’t come to that.”


“Nox, don’t lie to me. It can come to that. So promise me. You’ll get the shoes off no matter what. Even if you”—I took a deep breath—“even if you have to cut off my feet. Even if you have to kill me.”

“Amy, that’s crazy.”

“It’s not crazy, and you know it.”

“I never wanted this for you. I’m so sorry that you—that this—” He made a helpless gesture.

“I know. Promise me, Nox,” I said. He opened his eyes and looked deeply into mine, as if he was trying to drink me in.

“I promise,” he said.

“Whatever it takes.”

“Whatever it takes.”

We looked at each other for a long time. “Good luck tomorrow,” he said gruffly, glancing away. I wanted him to say something else. To find just the right words to tell me everything was going to be okay. To tell me that he’d find a way to be with me. That he’d find a way to help me get home. But instead he turned around and walked away from me, back into the Woodman’s palace. I followed, telling myself the pain in my ribs was just exhaustion and not my heart breaking into a million little pieces inside my chest.





THIRTY


The next morning we assembled in the courtyard. Lulu wanted to come with us, but agreed to stay at the Woodman’s palace with her monkeys in case any of Glinda’s army returned. Ozma was too much of a liability in the Emerald City, and Lulu was only too happy to look after her. We were all trying to make up for our pasts in one way or another, I guess. Except for Ozma, who couldn’t remember hers. Suddenly, having your memory wiped seemed more like a blessing than a curse.

So in the end it was just Nox, Gert, Mombi, Glamora, and me who prepared to teleport to Dorothy’s palace in the Emerald City.

The last I’d seen it, it had been a scary place. The city had been leveled as if it was hit with a bomb and the palace itself had seemed to be growing like a living thing, like it had been possessed by some kind of demonic force.

It had been the Wizard’s doing, and he was gone now. But knowing Oz, and knowing what I knew now, I thought it was unlikely that things had improved much, even without him. If there was one thing Oz had taught me, it was to prepare for the worst.

So the five of us joined hands, and Mombi began to mumble the familiar words of the teleportation spell that would take us all there.

I was an old hand at flying by now, but it still didn’t lose its thrill. I felt the familiar jerk of magic lifting me up into the air, and the sensation of the bottom of my stomach dropping out as we rose into the sky, our hands still linked. Far off on the horizon, I could see the pale stripe of the Deadly Desert; in the opposite direction, the tall peaks of the mountains. For just a moment, in that glorious weightless space, I could pretend that I wasn’t going back into battle—just flying over the jewel-bright landscape of Oz with the wind in my hair and the sun on my back. I could see the same joy in Nox’s face. Even Mombi, who hated heights, was smiling as we hurtled toward our destination.

Then Nox’s expression changed. I turned my head to follow his gaze and gasped out loud.

We were flying into a storm. Out of nowhere, dark clouds gathered into a churning inferno before us, looming directly over the ruined Emerald City.

I’d seen the changes in the city on the ground, and that had been bad enough. But from the air, it was terrifying: the bombed-out buildings, the empty streets scattered with broken gems. From here I could see there were bodies in the ruins, too—twisted and broken like the buildings around them. I swallowed hard. At the center of it all, the twisted spires of the Emerald Palace stabbed upward into the dark, oily-looking clouds. The palace seemed to radiate a tangible sense of menace. Dark, serpentine vines twined up its twisted towers, and smoke boiled out of some of its broken windows. What had once been orderly gardens looked more like a jungle, thick with thorny plants I didn’t recognize. The air was filled with a deep ticking noise, like the world’s biggest grandfather clock was somewhere inside the palace. “The Great Clock,” Gert said grimly. “She’s already trying to use it.”

“Hold on!” Mombi yelled, her grip tightening on my hand. As we drew closer to the storm, gusts of wind began to buffet us, hard and insistent as fists. One blast was so strong it almost pulled me out of Mombi’s grip. On my other side, Gert squeezed harder, too. The witches began to chant.