Yellow Brick War (Dorothy Must Die, #3)(47)

“No!” Nox said immediately, jumping to his feet. “It’s not safe. We’ve covered this already. I don’t care what Amy says about the shoes protecting her—she can’t use magic in Oz.”

“I’m right here,” I said sharply. “I can speak for myself. I also have news—I can kill Dorothy. The shoes seem to have broken whatever link we had.”

Glamora smiled again, her blue eyes glittering. “Why don’t I start by telling you what I saw in Glinda’s mind,” she said.





TWENTY-EIGHT


Glamora stood up, leaning heavily on the back of her chair, as if to emphasize the seriousness of what she was saying.

“There’s been trouble between Glinda and Dorothy for a while now,” she began. Despite her obvious exhaustion, her voice was clear and unwavering. “My sister has been trying to control the throne of Oz for a long time, and Dorothy is only the most recent of her little . . . plans.”

Glamora’s knees wobbled and she gripped the chair more tightly for support, taking a deep breath. “But like Ozma, Dorothy proved to have a mind of her own—only in this case, Dorothy was soon so warped by her power that she decided to set herself up as tyrant in chief. Glinda has been looking for a way to quietly get rid of her.” She looked at me. “I think Dorothy guessed that Glinda would turn against her, but the Wizard’s spell took you both to Kansas before she could do anything about it. Now . . .” She shrugged. “If the Nome King is the one who’s been trying to control Dorothy all along, all the more reason to kill her. And if he isn’t—well, we all know Oz isn’t safe as long as she’s alive. I don’t like it any more than you do, Nox, but Amy has to use the shoes at least once more.”

“It’s a huge risk,” Mombi said. “We could be playing right into the Nome King’s hands.”

“I don’t think so,” I said. All the witches turned to look at me. “I mean, I know he wanted me to find the shoes and come back to Oz. I know he’s hoping to use me in the same way he wanted to use Dorothy. But I don’t think he realizes that the shoes are good.”

“What do you mean, good?” Nox asked. “You want to risk your life on a hunch about a pair of shoes we don’t know anything about? After you’ve already seen what the other enchanted shoes did to Dorothy?”

“I can’t explain it,” I said, knowing how stupid I sounded. “I can just tell. The shoes are trying to help me.”

“Help you do what, though?” Mombi asked. No one answered for a long time.

“Anything we try will come with risks,” Glamora said finally. “I think we should let Amy use the shoes.” Mombi glanced at Glamora, her expression unreadable. There’s something Mombi knows that she isn’t telling us, I thought suddenly. Something about the Nome King? Or about what Glinda had been planning? I sighed. Secrets on top of secrets. Whatever. I’d had one job in Oz—to kill Dorothy. I might as well do my best to make sure the job got done.

“It’s your decision,” Gert said, reading my mind.

“We don’t have a choice,” I said.

“There’s always a choice,” Melindra said sharply, drumming her tin fingers against the table.

“I don’t have much of a choice, then,” I amended.

“We can use our power to try and protect you,” Mombi said, gesturing to the other witches. I nodded and they stood up, forming a circle around me. I could feel the current of power running between them, creating a bubble around me like a shield.

“Let us guide you,” Gert said. I could sense each of them in their magic: Nox’s felt blue and cool, like a stream in fall. Mombi’s was thicker, denser, like a gnarled old oak tree. Gert’s was warm and comforting, but with a hint of steel underneath the softness. And Glamora’s was a little too sweet, like overripe fruit. I let their magic flow into me and course through my body before settling into my feet. Dorothy’s shoes blazed with a white light and I staggered, only held in place by the Quadrant’s net of magic. “Concentrate, Amy!” Glamora cried.

The room around me faded away, the way the battlefield had when I’d used the shoes. I was in a cavern underground; I could feel dank, stagnant air on my face. Somewhere in the dark, a thundering ticking reverberated through the cavern. And the air was full of magic, so thick I could touch it with my fingers. The Quadrant’s power was keeping me tethered to my body like a lifeline, but I knew if they faltered I’d be swept away. And something was wrong, I could feel it. There was something that wasn’t supposed to be there. The pale thread of their combined magic thickened and began to turn darker, as if poison was running through it. Faintly, I could hear Nox and Gert screaming my name.

Let go, something seemed to be saying to me. Let go. It would be so easy to give in. To let myself sink into it. Finally, I’d be able to rest.

Dorothy’s shoes glowed even more brightly and suddenly I thought of Nox’s sandalwood smell, Gert’s comforting hug, Mombi’s gruffness. Even Melindra’s bitchy, disdainful attitude. Lulu’s snores. Ozma’s huge green eyes. I thought of everyone I cared about in Oz, and I threw myself toward them with everything I had.

The cavern vanished around me and I crashed through the circle of the witches’ arms, hitting the floor with a thump that jarred my bones. Gert and Nox were at my side in an instant, helping me up.