Yellow Brick War (Dorothy Must Die, #3)(62)
“You look beautiful, Amy.” Nox was walking toward me. He looked amazing; he’d let Ozma’s invisible handmaidens deck him out in a well-cut and closely fitted suit that looked equal parts James Bond and millionaire, like he was headed to a super-fancy dinner but wasn’t too overdressed to take out a couple of villains if he had to—which, actually, was true. Instead of looking silly, the purple cloak on top made him look like a prince. His longish dark hair was slicked back, which only emphasized his high cheekbones. He’d even found dress shoes.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, looking at my own diamond-studded boots. They were out of place in Oz, but they felt exactly right to me. Besides, with my cool gray granny dress the whole effect was kind of nineties. All I needed was a velvet choker.
And then I realized it: now was our chance. Finally, we were alone. But as soon as I opened my mouth, I saw Glamora swooping down on us, grinning like she’d PermaSmiled herself. “Nox! Amy! Are you ready?” she cooed.
From behind her came a voice I hadn’t heard in what felt like years. “You clean up nice, Amy.” Ollie! And his sister, Maude, was at his side. I swooped in and gave them both hugs. I hadn’t seen them since Mombi had made me leave them behind in the Queendom of the Wingless Ones.
But there was no time now for catching up. The sound of trumpets cut through the air, and Nox gave me a helpless look. I followed him and Glamora across the newly planted lawn.
Ozma stood at the far end of the canopy of flowers, dressed in a simple white silk shift that spilled in shimmering waves to her feet. Her long black hair was bound up with more of the huge, fragrant white blossoms. Her glorious gold-veined wings fluttered behind her. She looked tall, and beautiful, and radiant, and wise. She looked every inch a queen. Tiny Pixies buzzed through the air, carrying more of the luminous glass globes. A line of monkeys holding sunfruit lamps was arranged on either side of a long, richly decorated carpet that unrolled to Ozma’s feet. At its opposite end, Lulu stood in her amazingly jewel-encrusted dress, holding a delicate golden crown with the word OZ spelled out in a curlicued font. I found a place next to Nox at the back of the audience. The trumpets sounded their final notes, and the crowd fell into an expectant hush.
“My dear, brave citizens of Oz,” Ozma began, her clear voice carrying without effort. “Long have you waited for this moment, and much have you suffered.” It was still a shock to hear her speak like this—to see infinite wisdom flickering in her deep green eyes. “I am so happy to return to you, and to promise you that Oz is ours again—a free kingdom, with liberty and justice for all its subjects.”
A spontaneous cheer rose up from the happy crowd at her words, and the full impact of what I was witnessing hit me. For now, anyway, Oz was free. Dorothy was gone. We’d done it. All that fighting, all that loss and sacrifice—I’d never actually thought we would win. Without thinking, I reached for Nox’s hand. He looked at me, surprised, and then squeezed mine back. I put my head on his shoulder. He was just the right height for us to fit perfectly together. After a minute, he put his arm around me, and I relaxed into the warmth of his body, closing my eyes as Ozma’s words washed over us.
“As many of you know,” she continued, “we owe much of this victory to a very special warrior who has risked much to help us, though when she began this fight she was not even one of us. She believed in the freedom of Oz, even though it was not her world. She has shown extraordinary courage in the face of great danger, and she was the one who set me free from the prison of my own mind.” Nox elbowed me in the ribs and my eyes flew open. Everyone in the tent was looking at me.
“Amy Gumm,” Ozma said in that beautiful, rich voice. “We owe you our lives and our freedom. We will never be able to repay our debt to you, but you will always have a home among us.” And then, to my total astonishment, she moved through the crowd until she was standing right before me, and went down on her knee. After a second, everyone else knelt, too. To me. Like I was a queen. To my absolute horror, Nox knelt, too. I had no idea what to do or say. I wasn’t a ruler. I was just a teenager from a trailer park in Kansas.
“I can’t—” I stammered frantically. “I mean I didn’t—I didn’t do anything special. Anyone in my place would have done what I did.”
Ozma remained kneeling for what felt like a million years but was probably just a few seconds, and then she stood with that same effortless grace and held out her hands to me. “Stand beside me, dear Amy,” she said. “It would be an honor to be crowned at your side. I owe this—all of this—to you.” The crowd around me, also rising to its feet, parted wordlessly. I stood frozen to the ground in terror until Nox gave me a gentle shove.
“Dorothy was way scarier than this,” he whispered. “You’re fine.”
“Easy for you to say,” I muttered under my breath, but I stepped forward. I was glad I’d gone with the dress after all, now that what seemed like every eye in Oz was on me. My heart was pounding so hard I almost laughed at myself. Nox was right; I’d faced down Dorothy, but couldn’t handle an appreciative audience?
Ozma beamed at me as I joined her at her side. She took my hand in one of hers, and gestured to Lulu with the other. The little monkey should have looked ridiculous in her bedazzled dress, which was over the top even for her. But instead she looked perfect. Sort of like a really dignified chandelier, but in a good way. She was weeping openly as she slowly carried the crown toward us.