I stayed in the bathtub for a long time, magic boots and all (turns out they were waterproof), dreading the night ahead. I’d never been much for parties, and big banquets still reminded me of those awful days when I’d pretended to be one of Dorothy’s maids. I remembered what she’d done to Jellia, and a chill ran through me despite the hot bathwater. I was going to have to get a grip if I wanted to make it through the night, but I couldn’t let go of all the pain and suffering I’d seen. Maybe people in Oz were more used to it and that was why they could get over it so quickly, but before I’d come here Madison Pendleton had been about the worst thing I’d experienced. Well, that and my mom’s addiction. I splashed my face angrily with hot water and stood up, sloshing bathwater over the sides of the tub. A towel floated into the air and wrapped itself around me. “Oh, fine,” I sighed, stepping out of the tub. If it was possible for an invisible handmaid to towel me off smugly, mine did.
While I’d dozed in the tub, a rich, embroidered dress had been laid out on a chair next to the rack of towels. I looked at it in dismay. I’d feel like an idiot in a ball gown, even at Ozma’s coronation. I hadn’t worn a dress in months. “Maybe something else, please?” I said politely to the air. There was a frosty silence, and then the elaborately beaded and sewn dress disappeared and was replaced with a maid’s uniform. I laughed. “No, come on,” I said aloud. The maid’s uniform vanished, and finally a plain but pretty dress appeared. I picked it up. It was made of a soft, gray material that felt like clouds, and it was simply cut and unembellished. “That’s perfect,” I said. “Thank you.” I heard a little sniff of disapproval, and hid a smile.
Outside, twilight had fallen. I gasped when I saw the open space at the heart of the tent city where Ozma would be crowned. The glass globes the Pixies had hung were filled with tiny, glowing insects that cast a beautiful amber light over the new gardens. Tendrilly vines, heavy with sweet-smelling white flowers, reached up into the warm air and climbed around a canopy the monkeys had erected, creating a high, broad pavilion of blossoms. The citizens of Oz were already beginning to assemble in respectful rows, looking solemn and happy. Lulu’s ball gown was so heavy with rhinestones I saw her as a dazzling blur from a hundred yards away. The rest of the monkeys all wore neatly cut suits—surprisingly dignified, I thought. Even Dorothy’s former soldiers had done their best to dress up. Their metal parts were polished to a blinding glow that reflected the lamplight, and their furry bodies were brushed to a shine.
“You look beautiful, Amy.” Nox was walking toward me. He looked amazing; he’d let Ozma’s invisible handmaidens deck him out in a well-cut and closely fitted suit that looked equal parts James Bond and millionaire, like he was headed to a super-fancy dinner but wasn’t too overdressed to take out a couple of villains if he had to—which, actually, was true. Instead of looking silly, the purple cloak on top made him look like a prince. His longish dark hair was slicked back, which only emphasized his high cheekbones. He’d even found dress shoes.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, looking at my own diamond-studded boots. They were out of place in Oz, but they felt exactly right to me. Besides, with my cool gray granny dress the whole effect was kind of nineties. All I needed was a velvet choker.
And then I realized it: now was our chance. Finally, we were alone. But as soon as I opened my mouth, I saw Glamora swooping down on us, grinning like she’d PermaSmiled herself. “Nox! Amy! Are you ready?” she cooed.
From behind her came a voice I hadn’t heard in what felt like years. “You clean up nice, Amy.” Ollie! And his sister, Maude, was at his side. I swooped in and gave them both hugs. I hadn’t seen them since Mombi had made me leave them behind in the Queendom of the Wingless Ones.
But there was no time now for catching up. The sound of trumpets cut through the air, and Nox gave me a helpless look. I followed him and Glamora across the newly planted lawn.
Ozma stood at the far end of the canopy of flowers, dressed in a simple white silk shift that spilled in shimmering waves to her feet. Her long black hair was bound up with more of the huge, fragrant white blossoms. Her glorious gold-veined wings fluttered behind her. She looked tall, and beautiful, and radiant, and wise. She looked every inch a queen. Tiny Pixies buzzed through the air, carrying more of the luminous glass globes. A line of monkeys holding sunfruit lamps was arranged on either side of a long, richly decorated carpet that unrolled to Ozma’s feet. At its opposite end, Lulu stood in her amazingly jewel-encrusted dress, holding a delicate golden crown with the word OZ spelled out in a curlicued font. I found a place next to Nox at the back of the audience. The trumpets sounded their final notes, and the crowd fell into an expectant hush.
“My dear, brave citizens of Oz,” Ozma began, her clear voice carrying without effort. “Long have you waited for this moment, and much have you suffered.” It was still a shock to hear her speak like this—to see infinite wisdom flickering in her deep green eyes. “I am so happy to return to you, and to promise you that Oz is ours again—a free kingdom, with liberty and justice for all its subjects.”