Yellow Brick War (Dorothy Must Die, #3)(58)

“Oh my,” she said with a sigh of relief. “That’s much better.”





THIRTY-FIVE


“Princess,” Lulu breathed. “You’ve returned.” She sank to one knee in a sweeping, courtly bow. After a second, Mombi knelt, too. Then Gert, and then Nox, who elbowed me in the ribs. I yelped and then took the hint, curtsying before Ozma, who nodded regally. Only Glamora didn’t bow. Ozma looked her dead in the eye, and finally, she knelt, never taking her eyes off the princess.

“You do not think I am myself,” Ozma said, bemused.

Glamora looked away at last, unable to meet her gaze any longer. “I don’t think we should be hasty,” she said, almost sullenly, like a teenager scolded for not cleaning her room.

“Of course it’s her,” Lulu barked, jumping to feet and brandishing a little pistol she seemed to have pulled out of nowhere. “Why, you—”

Ozma laughed merrily. “My dear champion! Lulu, what would we do without you? I don’t blame Glamora for doubting me.” Her expression grew sober. “I’ve been gone for a long time. But I promise you, Glamora, it’s me. And with Dorothy gone, I can at last regain my rightful place as the ruler of Oz.”

Lulu cheered, dancing around the princess in what looked suspiciously like an actual jig. I stifled a laugh. Even Nox cracked a grin. He stood up and helped me to my feet. Gert and Mombi soon followed. But Glamora remained on her knees.

“Forgive me, Princess, for being suspicious,” she murmured, her eyes downcast. “As you said, it’s been a long time.”

“There is nothing to forgive.” Ozma sighed and looked out over the ruins of what had once been the Emerald City. “I hope too much has not been lost for the glory of Oz to be restored,” she said sadly.

Mombi cleared her throat. “Come now, Princess, that’s no way to talk,” she said gruffly. To my astonishment, I saw that her eyes were filling with tears. “Oh, never mind this old bag,” she grumbled, embarrassed, as she dashed them away with the heel of her hand. “I never thought this day would come.”

But I remembered what Lurline had told me. “We’re not done yet,” I said. “We still have to deal with the Nome King.”

“If we’ve defeated Dorothy, he’ll be planning his next move. We’re safe for the time being,” Glamora said.

“But he’s with my mom. I have to get back to Kansas somehow. I think I can use the shoes to—”

“You’re not going anywhere with those shoes,” Mombi said sharply. “They belong to Oz. Their magic stays here.”

“But—”

“We all make sacrifices, Amy,” Glamora said silkily. Mombi was nodding in agreement.

Nox stepped forward, taking my hand. “Listen to them, Amy,” he said. “They know what’s best.” Had he lost his mind? I opened my mouth to protest. He winked at me, too quickly for the other witches to catch, and I understood. There was no point in fighting all three of them now. He was right. We could figure out a better plan later. And the fact that he was on my side made everything suddenly seem more bearable.

“A coronation!” Gert exclaimed, straightening up, as if we hadn’t just been arguing about the fate of Oz. “That’s just what we need. Bring the country back together, give people something to look forward to. Oz loves a new monarch. Even if she’s a monarch we’ve already had.”

Ozma laughed. “I’ve already had a coronation, Gert,” she said, but Gert waved a hand dismissively.

“That was ages ago,” she said. “Besides, we had that whole unfortunate interlude with Dorothy the Usurper. We want to reassure the whole country that the right person is back in charge for good. A coronation is what the people will want.”

“We don’t even have a palace,” Mombi pointed out.

“We’ll host it in the land of monkeys,” Lulu said excitedly. “Boy, do monkeys know how to throw a party. Why, the last time we—”

“No, no,” Ozma interrupted. “Of course I appreciate your offer, dear Lulu, but the coronations of Oz have always been in the Emerald Palace. If there’s no palace, we’ll have to build something. The heart of Oz is here and always has been, even if the palace is no longer standing.”

I was pretty close to no longer standing myself. I didn’t realize I’d said it out loud until Nox shot me a funny look. Ozma laughed again and clapped her hands.

“What am I thinking?” she exclaimed. “First, my brave Wicked must rest. You’ve been through so much. We can hardly plan a party if you’re all starving and exhausted.”

As soon as she said it, I realized I was starving. I might have even been more hungry than tired.. Without waiting for another word, Ozma brought her hands together, and they began to glow with power. There was something almost alien about her magic; the light she created shimmered with an oily, rainbow sheen, like gasoline leaking across water. It arced upward, drawing the outline of a structure that slowly took shape under her direction. In just a few minutes, Ozma created a big, silk-walled pavilion stretched over a delicate golden frame with wrought filigree at every joint. Gems winked here and there in the framework, and a beautiful flag fluttered from a pole that sprang from the pavilion’s highest point.