No Place Like Oz: A Dorothy Must Die Prequel Novella(24)

I think I liked them better when they were just plain yellow. Ironically, it was only now that the Guardian of the Gates was gone that I actually could have used some glasses—not to create the illusion of opulence but to shield my eyes from the glare.

At an open market, Munchkins and Winkies peddled produce and clothes and trinkets to laughing townspeople. There was a snake charmer, like in storybooks I’d read, and a sword swallower and a team of acrobats who flipped and twirled in the air as if they were propelled by an unseen force.

Everyone was smiling and laughing, milling around without a care in the world. A sense of liveliness permeated everything and everyone.

And yet I couldn’t help feeling uneasy.

It was all too happy. Nothing was this perfect, not even Oz.

My shoes sent a now-familiar pulse of energy up my legs, and as I looked back out at the bustling city, the cheerful scene suddenly seemed sinister: the smiles of the people turned to leers and the candy-bright colors took on a garish, desperate tint.

Glinda was gone, I reminded myself, off somewhere no one seemed to know about.

Something wasn’t right here.



Our carriage finally ground to a halt where the yellow brick opened up into a large, circular courtyard outside the palace entrance. Toto was the first out, followed by the Scarecrow. I clambered out after him, then helped Aunt Em and Uncle Henry down. The air was still and there was a lovely sound of water burbling in fountains. In the distance, I could hear singing.

The plaza was an explosion of azaleas that blossomed in a rainbow of colors: they were pink and purple and blue, but also striped and polka-dotted and paisley-patterned. A large marble fountain shot a waterfall of what looked like liquid diamonds high into the air.

Aunt Em trailed her fingers through the pool, then held them up in front of her and watched them glitter in the sun.

“I don’t suppose your friend Ozma would mind if we took a few of her jewels back to Kansas, would she?” my aunt asked me with a twinkle in her eye. “They have so many of them here and just one of the big ones would pay for a year’s worth of chicken feed and pig slop.”

I groaned. “First of all,” I snapped, “Ozma isn’t my friend. I’ve never even met her before. Secondly, I don’t want to hear another word of Kansas talk. Not while we’re standing outside the royal palace in the most beautiful city in the universe.”


Aunt Em crossed her arms at her chest. She clucked her tongue and shook her head. “My word, Dorothy. You’ve certainly lost your sense of humor lately. Of course I’m not going to steal from our hosts. And if I was going to, it wouldn’t be to buy pig slop. I’d make myself a beautiful necklace with diamonds so big it would scandalize all of Topeka.”

Only then did I realize she had been teasing me. “Sorry,” I said sheepishly. “I just—”

“See here, Dorothy,” she said. “I know your uncle doesn’t approve of staying here just as well as I know that you don’t want to ever go home if you can help it. Myself, I can see both sides of it. This is a lovely country—not counting those terrible trees—but our whole life is back on the farm.”

“We could have a new life here. A better life.”

“We could,” she agreed. “But would it really be so much better? What would we do all day, with no cows to milk or fences to mend? We’d go stir-crazy before long.”

I shook my head emphatically. “There’s so much to do here,” I said. “You’ve hardly seen any of it.”

“Maybe,” Aunt Em said with a shrug. “And maybe it wouldn’t matter. At any rate, I say we’re here now, and we might as well enjoy ourselves.”

“I am enjoying myself,” I said.

“It seems to me that you’re awfully sour for someone who’s having the time of her life,” Aunt Em said.

I was trying to decide how to respond to that when the enormous doors of the palace swung open and a small, delicate figure came hurtling down the grand, emerald-studded steps. She raced toward me, her diaphanous white dress and dark, wavy hair flowing behind her, all tangled together in a whirling cloud.

“Dorothy!” she shouted. “It’s really you! I’ve been waiting for this day forever!”

She bounded across the courtyard and threw her arms around my neck, pulling me against her in a tight embrace before stepping back and giving me a warm, searching smile.

It wasn’t the greeting I’d been expecting. When I’d sought out an audience with the Wizard, in this very palace, it had been an arduous, hours-long process of being patted down by guards, standing in endless lines, and waiting in antechamber after antechamber before finally being allowed ten minutes alone with Oz’s supposed ruler.

Ozma, apparently, was less formal than all that.

Her eyes were a vivid, haunting green, lined with kohl and shadowed with gold, and they had a kindness behind them that took me by surprise. Her mouth was a ruby-red exclamation point in the center of her round, pale face. She was tiny, too: the top of her head barely reached my shoulders.

She wore a tall, golden crown with the word Oz inscribed on it, and had two big red poppies tied into her hair, one on either side of her face, fastened with long green ribbons. She had a golden scepter tucked under her arm as casually as a normal person would carry an umbrella.

“I can’t believe I’m finally meeting you,” she said. “I was so excited when I heard from the Munchkins that you had come back. The famous Dorothy Gale. The Witchslayer! I suppose I owe you a thank-you for saving my kingdom.”