No Place Like Oz: A Dorothy Must Die Prequel Novella(25)

“Anyone would have done the same,” I said, waving the praise away. I stole a quick glance over at my aunt and uncle and saw that Uncle Henry had his arm around Aunt Em and was pointing out various buildings in the distance.

“Are these your parents?” the princess asked, gesturing at them with her scepter, which I now saw was topped with the same insignia that was on her crown: a gold O the size of my palm that enclosed a smaller, stylized Z.

“Oh no,” I said. “This is my aunt Em and uncle Henry. I live with them, back in . . .”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh yes! Kansas! It sounds like such a fantastic place. They say the roads there are made of dust! Or was it dirt?”

“Well . . . ,” I said, “both?” I couldn’t imagine being excited by dirt roads considering the opulence that was all around us here, but Ozma was already rushing over to Aunt Em and Uncle Henry. For their part, they seemed to be adjusting to the idea of meeting royalty. They wore the same friendly expressions that they used for greeting a neighbor’s out-of-town cousin at the church breakfast.

Ozma leaned down and patted Toto on the head. He was so happy to be back that he was running in circles. “And this is little Tutu?”

He snarled at her. Toto didn’t like it when people got his name wrong.

“Toto,” I corrected quickly.

“Of course!” she said. “How silly of me. I guess I owe him my thanks as well.” She knelt down and scruffed his fur, and while he bristled at first, soon he was happily licking her hand.

The princess turned her attention back to Aunt Em and Uncle Henry.

“We have rooms for all of you, and the finest clothes in the city,” she said. “I want you to know that, for as long as you’re here, you can make full use of everything in the palace. My servants are yours to command.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Uncle Henry said hesitantly. “We’re not planning on staying long.”

Ozma tilted her head in concern. “Oh?”

“Uncle Henry . . . ,” I started. “We only just got here.”

“We need to get home,” Aunt Em explained apologetically to Ozma. “You have a beautiful kingdom, but we’re not the magical types. We have a farm back home, you see, and responsibilities.”

Ozma waved her scepter with an air of dismissal. “Of course! I’ve heard such things about Kansas; I don’t doubt that you’re eager to get back there. But I’ve waited so long to meet Dorothy; surely you can stay for a bit.”

Ozma called out: “Jellia! Show the Gales to their quarters, please. And please make sure their every need is attended to.”


Before they could protest, a round, cheery-faced maid with blonde hair and a green uniform emerged from the main building and led Aunt Em and Uncle Henry up the stairs inside. They glanced back at me over their shoulders as they stepped through the entrance, a look of trepidation on their faces. “Toto,” I said, feeling almost guilty when I saw how out of their element they looked. “Why don’t you keep them company?” With a sharp bark, he went bounding after them.

Ozma moved her attention to the Scarecrow, who hadn’t said a word since we’d arrived. “I’m so pleased you came today,” she said. “There’s a delegation here from Gillikin Country and I could really use someone with brains in the room when it comes to dealing with them.”

She looked at me with an air of wry conspiracy. “Keeping everyone in Oz happy is no small feat,” she said. “Every day there’s a new visitor with a new list of requests. Easily met, most of them, but you have no idea how dull it can be, sitting in those meetings.”

The Scarecrow bowed. “I am at your service, Princess.”

“Oh, stop that,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You know bowing makes me uncomfortable.”

“Of course,” he said.

“The delegation is in the reception room,” Ozma said. “They shouldn’t give you too much trouble, but you know how the Gillikins are—always bickering amongst themselves and forgetting what they even want in the first place. It could take some time.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing I don’t require sleep.” The Scarecrow leaned in to give me a peck on the cheek, and as he did, he whispered: “Remember. Be careful. And not a word about the shoes.”

As I watched him go, Ozma grabbed me by the elbow. “Come inside the castle. Let me show you what I’ve done.”

The main hall of the palace was magnificent, but there was a surprising coziness to it, too—you could tell someone actually lived here. Ozma had lined the walls with damask wallpaper, and filled the space with plush velvet couches overflowing with throw pillows and ornate end tables and carved oak chairs upholstered in leather. From the diamond-shaped black-and-white tiles on the floor to the crystal chandeliers to the lush, exotic-looking plants sprouting from every corner of the room, it felt stately and elegant but warm and welcoming, too.

“What do you think?” Ozma asked, almost nervously, as we walked past a dramatic, sweeping staircase. It almost felt like she wanted me to be impressed.

I was a bit surprised that she seemed to care so much about my opinion—she was the princess after all, a descendant of the fairy Lurline, supposedly, and the heir to the greatest kingdom in the world. I was just an ordinary farm girl from dusty, gray Kansas. What did I know about interior decoration?