Yellow Brick War (Dorothy Must Die, #3)(44)

“Are you okay?” Nox was at my side, helping me to my feet. I nodded, too winded to speak. Only one witch lay crumpled on the ground. The other one was gone.

We started at the inert body curled up on the bloody dirt. I kept my knife at the ready as we tiptoed toward it. Nox gave the body a shove with his foot, and the woman flopped over on her back.

At first, I didn’t know who I was looking at. Her eyes were closed, but the rise and fall of her chest told us she was still alive. Her skin was flawless porcelain, with neither Glamora’s gaping scar nor Glinda’s ugly new wound. Her golden hair tumbled around her, as clean as if she’d just washed it. And she was completely, totally naked.

There was something tragic about seeing her like that. Someone like Glamora, for whom manners were everything.

“Give me your shirt,” I ordered Nox.

“My what?”

“Your shirt, idiot.” I tugged at the garment in question. Slowly, comprehension dawned and he tugged it over his head, his muscles rippling. He cleared his throat and I realized my mouth was hanging open.

Blushing, I grabbed his shirt and threw it over Glamora. If it was Glamora.

“We have to figure out what just happened,” Nox said. “If that’s Glinda . . .”

“I saw Glinda disappear,” I said. “At least, I think that’s what I saw. It was like they just fused into a single person somehow.”

“I’ll stand guard over her in case she wakes up,” he said. “Why don’t you make sure everyone else is safe.”

“Already a step ahead of you,” Mombi said, coming up behind us with Gert close on her heels. Melindra was behind them. I didn’t see Annabel, or most of the other fighters who’d come to the castle with them.

“Annabel?” I asked, and Melindra shook her head, her face full of sorrow. Next to me, Nox caught his breath.

“Annabel and I have known each other since . . .” He trailed off, his voice catching, and bowed his head. I could hear Lulu barking orders somewhere nearby.

“I am so sorry, Nox,” I said. There was an extra layer of guilt there because I had never liked her. And now she was gone.

“We’ve had heavy casualties,” Mombi said grimly. “Lost a lot of the monkeys and most of our fighters. But the battle’s over now. Most of Glinda’s soldiers ran for the hills when Glamora took her out, but the monkeys are rounding up the remaining few.”

“What about Dorothy’s army?” I asked. Mombi scoffed.

“The survivors are helping the monkeys,” Gert said quietly. “They were enslaved by Dorothy’s magic, but they aren’t evil. Her magic isn’t strong enough anymore to control them from a distance. Most of them are just farmers and peasants the Woodman kidnapped and imprisoned before he died.” Her voice was full of sorrow. So much suffering, I thought. And none of it was necessary.

“No time for tears in a war,” Mombi said gruffly, “We’ll have to face Dorothy again, but we’ve got more pressing problems to deal with for the time being.” She hunched over the inert witch lying in front of us, holding out her hands to Nox and Gert. “Join the circle,” she snapped, and Nox and Gert obeyed, kneeling beside her. The three of them closed their eyes, holding their linked hands over the witch’s sleeping body. A soft, golden glow formed a cloud over the three cloaked figures. Mombi murmured a long string of syllables, and the golden cloud seemed to respond to her voice, gently probing the sleeping figure’s body and face. At last, Mombi let out a long sigh and released Nox’s and Gert’s hands, opening her eyes. There was a strange expression on her face that I didn’t know how to read.

“It’s her,” she said. “It’s Glamora. She did it. She won.” Slowly, the cloud sank into the sleeping witch’s chest, until she began to glow with the same yellow light.

“Rejoin us, sister,” Gert said. “Rejoin the Order. Rise with the Wicked.” The sleeping witch opened her eyes.

“Welcome back, Glamora,” Mombi said. “You defeated Glinda.”





TWENTY-SIX


After everything that had happened, I’d kind of forgotten about Pete and Ozma. We found them playing a game of checkers that Ozma had improvised out of pebbles and bits of armor in the Tin Woodman’s throne room, still in their chains. Nox leapt forward, and for a second I thought he was going to hit Pete in the face. Not that I’d have stopped him—although technically, I was the one who should have been punching Pete. He’d clocked me in the face before he’d summoned Glinda and gotten Polychrome killed.

“Checkers?” Nox growled. “Are you serious? People died out there.”

“I thought it was a good idea to keep her quiet and hidden,” Pete said miserably, glancing at Ozma. We all stood in silence looking at each other while Ozma burbled happily, moving around her rocks and bits of metal. Pete looked haggard and anxious. His green eyes blazed in his thin face and his dark hair was even shaggier. But Ozma looked perfectly serene. As Oz’s magic had returned, she’d had more and more flashes of clarity, and in the past there were moments where I had almost been able to reach through to her. I remembered the vision of her that Polychrome had revealed, serene and regal and powerful. But that Ozma was still lost somewhere and we had no idea how to bring her back.