Ruler of Beasts (Dorothy Must Die, #0.6)(6)
FOUR
It was good to be traveling again. He’d made this journey before, and not all that long ago—though that time he’d been leaving the Emerald City, not heading toward it, and he and the Scarecrow had been fleeing Jinjur’s soldiers, afraid for their own lives. When he’d traveled with Dorothy, the Scarecrow, and the Tin Woodman, they’d had such an eventful and occasionally dangerous journey that he’d never had time to pay attention to the landscape. But Oz was safe and stable now. The Wicked witches had been killed or exiled, and no possible threat faced him on the road. Despite Glinda’s ominous farewell words, he dawdled as much as he dared along the way to the Emerald City, stopping often to nap in a sunny patch of starflowers or drink lavender-scented water from one of the many brooks he passed. It didn’t take long for his paws to find the Road of Yellow Brick, and once he did he quickened his pace. Soon enough, the city was a dazzling green smear on the horizon that solidified into towers, turrets, and thatch-roof houses as he drew closer to the gates.
Unlike the Wizard, Ozma left the gates of the Emerald City unguarded, as clear a sign as any that Oz had returned to a state of peace and harmony. The Lion slipped past the heavy wooden doors and found himself on the main road to the palace.
The Emerald City was designed like a wheel, with the Emerald Palace at its heart and straight, even roads radiating outward like spokes until they met the city walls. The main roads were paved with a sparkling crust of green gemstones that were eerily smooth under the Lion’s paws. Near the city walls, the buildings were mostly neat green houses. Munchkins cheerfully pulled weeds and watered flowers in well-tended gardens, waving at the Lion as he walked by. The closer he got to the palace, the buildings grew larger and more elaborate. Vendors selling green scarves, green songbirds, green pastries, and green suits and dresses hawked their wares to passersby. Here, the streets were crowded with people. Munchkins ran back and forth, on their way to some urgent task or another. An emerald-studded trolley ran past on a shining green track, so full of people that Munchkins hung out its windows and clung to the outside of the car. The Lion licked his lips, realizing how hungry he was from his journey. There were so many Munchkins in the Emerald City—surely no one would miss just one? But he wanted to make a good impression on Ozma, and eating one of her subjects was probably considered poor form.
The Lion made his way slowly through the teeming streets, until at last he reached the gardens outside the Emerald Palace. The exterior of the palace was dramatically different from the last time the Lion had seen it. The Scarecrow had kept things simple and functional. But now, under Ozma’s rule, it was clear that appearance was more important. The gardens were even more elaborately planted. Tiny jewel-colored hummingbirds flitted between enormous green blossoms, and golden butterflies the size of the Lion’s head drifted idly from flower to flower. An army of Munchkin gardeners toiled busily: raking the immaculate green gravel paths, planting seedlings in the tidy beds, and trimming the already flawless lawns. Huge green banners emblazoned with the golden crown of Oz fluttered from tall green poles. Courtiers strolled in the gardens, dressed in elaborate, tiered court gowns and well-cut suits of green velvet. Ozma had clearly been busy since the Scarecrow had left the Emerald City. The Lion wondered what his old friend had thought of her changes. But Ozma was the rightful ruler of Oz, after all. It made sense that she would want her palace to be as beautiful as possible.
“Your Highness!” one of the gardeners exclaimed, catching sight of the Lion. He rushed forward, bowing as he ran. “We were not expecting a royal visit! Does Her Majesty know you’re here?”
The Lion was pleased to be recognized, but realized quickly he should have sent word to Ozma that he was coming to the city. “Er, I thought I would surprise her,” he said. The gardener looked startled, but recovered quickly.
“How wonderful, sir. I’m afraid we are not prepared to receive you properly, but allow me to escort you to the palace.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” the Lion said. “I don’t need anything fancy.” He followed the gardener through the huge main gates of the palace, and his stomach rumbled. It definitely wouldn’t do to eat one of Ozma’s staff, but he was terribly hungry, and the Munchkin was so tempting.
Inside, the palace was even grander than the outside. Ozma’s touch was everywhere, in the giant tapestries that covered the walls and the soft, thick carpets scattered across the stone floor. More servants bustled back and forth on various errands, carrying trays laden with delicacies, cleaning supplies, or stacks of books and papers. It was almost hard to believe that this was the same palace where he’d once lounged with the Scarecrow, and where they’d fought a bloody battle against General Jinjur. The palace even felt different. He could almost smell the magic humming in the air—Ozma’s magic, he realized. It buzzed faintly in his ears like a distant beehive. The Emerald Palace had never felt like this before. For the first time, it had a true ruler.
“If you’ll just wait here for a moment, Your Majesty,” the gardener said. Before the Lion could reply, he was running off down a hallway. Moments later, another servant appeared. This Munchkin was clearly someone important in the palace: his uniform was a beautifully tailored suit, and he wore an emerald pin on his lapel.
“We are honored to have such an illustrious guest. I am Reedus Appleall, at your service,” he said, bowing. “The queen is just finishing some business, but will be ready to receive you soon, Your Highness.” He looked at the Lion’s dirty, matted fur with the faintest expression of disapproval. “Perhaps His Majesty would like to refresh himself before seeing the queen?”