Ruler of Beasts (Dorothy Must Die, #0.6)(21)
“We have to get out of here!” the Lion exclaimed as more tiles crashed to the ground. Freed from the grip of Glinda’s spell, he raced over to Ozma. The queen weakly dragged herself onto his back, and he bounded out of the throne room just as the rest of the ceiling fell in.
“Your Majesty!” cried Jellia, hurrying toward them at the head of a small army of servants. “Are you all right? What do you need?”
“I need you to put me to bed,” Ozma said distinctly. “And then I need you to let me sleep for the next forty thousand years.” She tumbled from the Lion’s back, unconscious, and landed on the floor with a thud.
FOURTEEN
Ozma didn’t sleep for forty thousand years, but she did sleep for several days. Long enough for the Lion to sleep off his own exhaustion—after a restorative trip to the kitchens, first—wake up again, and then eat his way through an impressive quantity of the palace’s stores. Finally, Jellia told him the queen was awake and receiving visitors. The Lion bounded joyfully up to her chambers, barreling through her open door and pouncing on the bed, where Ozma lay propped up against a raft of silk pillows. She laughed and scratched him behind the ears as he licked her face with his rough pink tongue.
“Oof, Lion—you really ought to brush your teeth.”
“Sorry,” the Lion apologized, backing away and settling down at the foot of her bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Like a wrung-out washcloth,” the queen admitted. Her skin was pale, and there were dark hollows under her green eyes. But she was smiling, and she managed to look almost perky despite her evident exhaustion.
“You look well,” the Lion said, not entirely truthfully.
“I’ll be better soon,” she agreed. “Battling the Nome King and Glinda in one day was a lot. I’m powerful, but I’m not a superhero.”
The Lion sobered instantly at the thought of Glinda. “I owe you an apology,” he said, hanging his head. “I should have told you from the very beginning that Glinda sent me here.”
“Yes, you should have,” Ozma said sternly, her face severe. “Who knows how much of that disaster we could have avoided if you’d been honest with me from the moment you arrived in the Emerald City.” Her face softened a little. “But I know you didn’t mean any harm, and Glinda can be—well, let’s say I know how persuasive she is, and how convincing. I’m sure you had no idea you might be betraying me.”
In fact, the Lion had suspected he was doing something furtive—he just hadn’t cared until he’d realized how much he liked Ozma. But her cheerful willingness to see the best in everyone was working in his favor, and he wasn’t going to argue.
“Where is Glinda now?”
“Banished,” Ozma said succinctly. “She’ll have a heck of a time getting out of the prison world I put her in. I suppose she’ll figure out a way eventually—nothing in Oz stays the same forever, as you know—but I’ll have plenty of time to figure out what I’m going to do about her when she frees herself.” Ozma sighed. “I don’t like fighting with people,” she said a little sadly. “I just wish Oz could stay calm and peaceful and everyone could get along.”
“She got the Wizard’s necklace,” the Lion said.
Ozma shrugged. “It won’t do her any good in there. It’s a powerful weapon, but there’s no one for her to fight.”
“She said she was going to make a present for someone.” He didn’t say anything about Dorothy. He just couldn’t.
Ozma shook her head. “I have no idea what she meant by that. She’s trapped, and it’ll take a lot more than a fancy ruby necklace to get her out of there.”
The Lion nodded, but he wasn’t convinced. Neither, he was sure, was Ozma. She was too canny to dismiss Glinda’s threat so easily. More likely she didn’t trust him to the extent that she once had—or at least she wasn’t going to trust him with any serious information. He’d already proven that Glinda could control him. Ozma wouldn’t let him fail her twice. But the green eyes that gazed up at him were as guileless as ever, and she quickly changed the subject. “Did you get enough to eat while I was resting?”
“Oh yes,” the Lion replied, eager for a safer subject. He’d had enough of politics. Let Ozma worry about Glinda’s sinister plans—he suddenly remembered that he had a forest of his own to rule. “I suppose I should return to the Forest of the Beasts,” he said, hoping Ozma would protest. She didn’t.
“I think that’s a good idea.”
“I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”
“No,” Ozma agreed, batting her eyelashes at him to soften the harshness of her reply. His heart sank a little. Thanks to Glinda, his cushy stay at the palace was over. It had been good while it lasted.
Ozma gave him a kiss on the forehead, and he allowed himself one last, wistful glance around her chambers. He could have stayed here like a prince if he’d played his cards better. But at least he was returning to being a king.
“You said once that we were the same. Both of us figuring out how to rule,” he offered. It wasn’t a plea. But he was still holding out for a reprieve.
“I thought so, too, at first. But we are more different than we are the same. You are not Wicked, dear Lion. But sometimes you put what you want over what is good for Oz. I don’t know how much you care about good over bad, Lion. I think that you just like the thrill. You love the fight more than you love what you are fighting for. Be careful, there.”