Yellow Brick War (Dorothy Must Die, #3)(61)

The next few days were a bustle of activity. When Ozma had insisted the coronation be held on the site of the Emerald Palace, I’d been pretty dubious. Why not start over somewhere that wasn’t a former battleground? The scarred wasteland looked worse than post-tornado Dusty Acres, and the city itself was in even more terrible shape. But the land had significance for her. And for Oz. And Ozma, with the help of the Wicked, went immediately into full cleanup mode. First, she deputized a handful of Lulu’s monkeys as messengers and sent them out to all the corners of Oz with the news that Dorothy had been defeated and the coronation was coming. Joyful citizens of Oz came pouring into the city, eager to help rebuild. At all hours of the day and night the streets were full of Munchkins, Winkies, Pixies, and talking animals industriously carting wheelbarrows of debris back and forth, carefully repaving the streets with salvaged gemstones, and repairing the buildings that were still standing. Ozma and the Wicked—Nox included—devoted their energy to constructing an elaborate tent city where the palace had stood and carefully coaxing the ruined gardens back to life. The monkeys busied themselves in the remaining trees, hanging streamers and lights and an elaborate network of bridges and platforms, with Lulu barking orders from the ground like a drill sergeant.

I helped where I could, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. It had all happened so suddenly that Dorothy’s defeat hadn’t really sunk in, but everyone else in Oz seemed to think it was totally normal that a tyrant had been defeated, the old queen had been reinstated, and the Emerald Palace had been completely destroyed.

The morning of the coronation was as sunny and clear as every other day had been since Dorothy’s defeat. Ozma herself was directing the final touches: a small army of Munchkins was busy cooking an enormous feast. Pixies fluttered about from tree to tree, hanging streamers and long strands of glass balls that must have been some kind of decoration. Mombi, Gert, Glamora, and Nox were busy putting the last details on the newly planted, magic-enhanced gardens. They were still a far cry from the splendor that had once surrounded the Emerald Palace, but they were a lot better than the wasteland they replaced.

Dorothy’s surviving ex-soldiers had shown up for the party, too. At first I was startled to see the mangled, mechanized figures as they wheeled and creaked around, and the other Ozians gave them a wide berth, too. But they made themselves indispensable, helping with heavy lifting and the most unglamorous tasks, like doing dishes and cleaning up. They, at least, had been through even worse than me. I remembered the Scarecrow’s laboratory, and shuddered.

Finally, it was time to get ready. Ozma had set up a bathing tent that was as luxurious as a fancy spa. Big, claw-foot bathtubs were curtained off with walls of pale, billowing silk. As soon as I entered one of the rooms, invisible hands turned on the taps, and the tub filled with steaming, scented water as a pile of thick towels materialized next to me. I’d no sooner taken off my clothes and climbed into the tub than the same invisible presence began to briskly lather my scalp with a floral shampoo. “No thanks,” I told it. “I think I’d rather do it myself.” I thought I heard a sulky little sigh, but the hands withdrew, and I knew I was alone.

I stayed in the bathtub for a long time, magic boots and all (turns out they were waterproof), dreading the night ahead. I’d never been much for parties, and big banquets still reminded me of those awful days when I’d pretended to be one of Dorothy’s maids. I remembered what she’d done to Jellia, and a chill ran through me despite the hot bathwater. I was going to have to get a grip if I wanted to make it through the night, but I couldn’t let go of all the pain and suffering I’d seen. Maybe people in Oz were more used to it and that was why they could get over it so quickly, but before I’d come here Madison Pendleton had been about the worst thing I’d experienced. Well, that and my mom’s addiction. I splashed my face angrily with hot water and stood up, sloshing bathwater over the sides of the tub. A towel floated into the air and wrapped itself around me. “Oh, fine,” I sighed, stepping out of the tub. If it was possible for an invisible handmaid to towel me off smugly, mine did.

While I’d dozed in the tub, a rich, embroidered dress had been laid out on a chair next to the rack of towels. I looked at it in dismay. I’d feel like an idiot in a ball gown, even at Ozma’s coronation. I hadn’t worn a dress in months. “Maybe something else, please?” I said politely to the air. There was a frosty silence, and then the elaborately beaded and sewn dress disappeared and was replaced with a maid’s uniform. I laughed. “No, come on,” I said aloud. The maid’s uniform vanished, and finally a plain but pretty dress appeared. I picked it up. It was made of a soft, gray material that felt like clouds, and it was simply cut and unembellished. “That’s perfect,” I said. “Thank you.” I heard a little sniff of disapproval, and hid a smile.

Outside, twilight had fallen. I gasped when I saw the open space at the heart of the tent city where Ozma would be crowned. The glass globes the Pixies had hung were filled with tiny, glowing insects that cast a beautiful amber light over the new gardens. Tendrilly vines, heavy with sweet-smelling white flowers, reached up into the warm air and climbed around a canopy the monkeys had erected, creating a high, broad pavilion of blossoms. The citizens of Oz were already beginning to assemble in respectful rows, looking solemn and happy. Lulu’s ball gown was so heavy with rhinestones I saw her as a dazzling blur from a hundred yards away. The rest of the monkeys all wore neatly cut suits—surprisingly dignified, I thought. Even Dorothy’s former soldiers had done their best to dress up. Their metal parts were polished to a blinding glow that reflected the lamplight, and their furry bodies were brushed to a shine.