Ruler of Beasts (Dorothy Must Die, #0.6)(15)

The Nome King was silent for a long moment, and then a slow, nasty smile spread across his face. The Lion shivered. And cursed his courage for leaving him when he needed it most.

“I will make you a bargain,” he said. “You will allow me to use my magic to disguise you. If your little companion can recognize you, I will return to Ev.”

“And if he fails?”

The Nome King smiled. “If I am to sacrifice everything, then your cost must be a great one, too. If he fails, you will remain enchanted—forever.”

Ozma tilted her head, considering. “If you return to Ev, you’re not sacrificing anything at all except a war with my people.”

“You see what Ev is like now,” the Nome King hissed. “This is our last chance to survive. If you defeat me, Princess Ozma, my kingdom is ruined. My people will starve. I would not dream of asking any less of you.”

“No!” the Lion roared. “If you are enchanted, Princess, he will claim Oz for himself!”

“Perhaps,” the Nome King said idly, picking his nails with a triumphant look in his eyes.

“That’s not—” the Lion began desperately, but Ozma cut him off.

“He gets six guesses,” she said.

The Nome King laughed. “Are you kidding?”

“Five.”

“Three,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“I’m not—” the Lion said.

“Agreed,” Ozma interrupted, extending her hand to the Nome King. He took it, and their clasped hands blazed with a searing green light. Green lightning cracked across the cavern, and for just a second a cool, refreshing breeze wafted past them. The Nome King yelped in surprise and yanked his hand back.

“What have you done, witch?”

“I’m a fairy, not a witch,” Ozma said calmly. “And I’ve bound you to your word with all the power of Oz.”

The Nome King stared at her, his eyes glittering with suspicion, but Ozma returned his gaze with an innocent smile. “May I speak to the Lion before you enchant me, Your Highness?” she asked sweetly.

He scowled. “If you must, but be quick about it. My people are hungry. I am not interested in delays.”

Ozma knelt down beside the Lion and hugged him. “Trust me, dear Lion,” she whispered into his ear.

“How will I know you?” the Lion asked. “What if I fail?”

“You won’t,” Ozma said confidently. “You can’t.”

That was hardly reassuring, but Ozma was already standing up to face the king. “I’m ready,” she said.

The Nome King’s smile was so sinister that even the Lion’s courage faltered. He raised both arms, and his robes opened slightly, revealing an elaborate ruby necklace glittering at his throat. A ruby necklace the Lion recognized immediately. It was the necklace Glinda had shown him in the Forest of the Beasts. He blinked. Was it possible? Did the Nome King have the necklace Glinda was looking for? How had he gotten it? Ozma’s eyes narrowed. She’d seen the necklace, too. Did she know what it was?

But there was no time to think about that now. The Nome King flicked his wrist, and the cavern began to fill with a silvery, foul-smelling mist. The Lion covered his face with his paws, but he couldn’t help breathing in the noxious fumes. “Replicatum scatterorium,” the Nome King hissed, and the weird mist evaporated. Coughing, the Lion looked up. The floor of the cavern was covered with tiny silver figurines that looked exactly like the Queen of Oz, and Ozma was gone.





ELEVEN


The Nome King yawned loudly. One of his warriors hurried to bring him a silver stool. He settled onto it, stretching ostentatiously and yawning again. “Hurry up, house cat,” he said, examining his silver nails. “We haven’t got all day down here.”

The Nome King wasn’t just an evil tyrant hell-bent on taking over Oz, the Lion thought irritably. He was also incredibly annoying, and he was clearly pretty powerful. But for whatever reason, Ozma had thought this was a good idea, and now it was up to him to save her and the entire Land of Oz.

The Lion bent down to sniff at the silver figurines. Each miniature Ozma was slightly different. Some of the Ozmas were smiling, and others looked like they were about to cry. A few seemed angry. Some of the tiny Ozmas had tiny accessories: one was holding a miniature scepter, and another was carrying a giant cake. They all had one thing in common, however: each one looked exactly like the queen. The Lion almost groaned aloud. How was he supposed to tell which one was the real Ozma?

“Do I get a hint?” he asked, stalling for time. The Nome King only snorted, not bothering to reply.

The Lion didn’t have magic and he knew deep down he wasn’t particularly smart. But Ozma had seemed to know what she was doing. Why had she thought he’d be able to solve this puzzle? What did he have to help him? Courage wasn’t going to do him much good.

“I’m waiting,” the Nome King said.

“Oh, calm down,” the Lion snapped, and the Nome King looked momentarily surprised. He obviously wasn’t used to anyone talking back to him. Was that what set the Lion apart? He paced the cavern floor, examining each of the dozens of tiny Ozmas until he found one that seemed to have an extra bit of difference. Its face was just a teensy bit more realistic than the others, and something about the silver folds of its dress looked familiar. “That one,” he said, pointing with his paw. With a pop, the silver figurine exploded into confetti.