No Place Like Oz: A Dorothy Must Die Prequel Novella(26)

“It’s very nice,” I said, as if I saw beautiful, grand things all the time and this was just another one of them. “You’ve made it so much nicer than when the Wizard lived here.”

“Yes, well, he did have a bachelor’s taste, didn’t he? Anyway, all this is thanks to you, Dorothy. You saved my kingdom when I was”—she paused—“you know. Indisposed. If it wasn’t for you, the witches would probably be living here now.” She shuddered. “Can you imagine what they would have done with the place? You have no idea how much I owe you.”

I looked around at this dream palace full of treasure and beauty and luxury, and suddenly I had a pretty good notion of what she owed me, actually. Maybe I was just the teeniest bit jealous that she got to live like this, all thanks to me. There was a part of me that wondered if I would have been the princess if I’d stayed.

“Of course,” I said, forcing a smile. “Oz was in danger. I only did what any decent person would have.”

“No, Dorothy. Not everyone would have done it. You did it. You’re more special than you know.”

How could I argue with that? “Okay,” I admitted modestly. “Maybe I’m a little special.”

Ozma threw her head back and let out a lilting, musical giggle. “I think we’re going to be great friends,” she said, wrapping an arm around my waist and tipping her head against my shoulder. She led me through the great entrance hall to a series of French doors that looked out onto a lush, expansive garden dotted with fountains and topiary sculptures.

“So do I,” I said, remembering what the Scarecrow had told me. If I was going to find Glinda, it appeared that I had to make Ozma trust me. I had to become her friend. Truthfully, it didn’t seem like it would be very difficult.

“It’s a beautiful day,” Ozma said. “Well, it’s always a beautiful day here, but still. Let’s take a walk in the gardens. I’ve got so much to ask you. Starting with how in the world you got here!”





Twelve

In Ozma’s gardens, the hedges were tall and greener than green, and were sculpted into strange, looming figures that were three times as tall as either of us. Some of them were covered in strange little blossoms, others were grown over with vines and fragrant honeysuckle and jacaranda and flowers that I didn’t recognize.

Some of the flowers had tiny little eyes like the funny little puffballs that were growing all over the old farmhouse back in Munchkin Country. They all twisted in my direction to stare at me.

If you’ve never had fifty plants with human eyeballs stare at you, you have no idea how disconcerting a feeling it is.

A path wound its way through the grounds, forking off into other trails that led into little grassy valleys, groves of orange trees, little sitting areas with wrought-iron benches. Back home what passed for a garden was usually a couple of tomato plants and maybe some scraggly old petunias. This was something else.

Ozma wandered down the main path idly, her scepter slung casually over her shoulder and the train of her dress trailing on the ground behind her.

“Don’t keep me in suspense,” she said. “So what was it? Another cyclone? I know it’s not easy to get here from your world, believe me. I’ve looked into bringing you here myself, actually—we’ve had some political trouble, and since you were so good at handling it the first time—well, but that kind of magic is very complicated. There are few in Oz who can manage it.”

A part of me didn’t want to lie to her. I’ve always believed that honesty will get you farthest. And it was hard to believe that someone as seemingly sweet and guileless as the princess could possibly have had anything to do with Glinda’s disappearance. But the Scarecrow was my oldest friend in this world, not to mention the smartest person I’d ever met. If he thought it was best to keep a few things secret from her, I knew that I should trust him.

“Well,” I explained, remembering that it’s always best to base a lie in some version of the truth. “It was my birthday, and you see, in Kansas, on your birthday, you get one wish. I wished I was back here, and next thing I knew, poof! We were all crash-landing in the middle of Munchkin Country.”

Ozma looked skeptical.

“That’s it?”

“I wished very hard,” I clarified.

“But it’s so odd,” she said, touching a finger to her red lips. “I thought magic didn’t exist in your world. It seems that something would have had to bring you here.”

“It was my sixteenth birthday,” I scrambled to elaborate. “That’s kind of a big deal over there. So that’s probably why it worked. Besides, I always felt like being in Oz the first time changed me somehow. Maybe I brought a little bit of magic back with me.”

She hmmm-ed. Her tone was still unconvinced, but her eyes were open and trusting. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe me. She just thought there was more to the story.

I decided to change the subject. “But I want to know all about you,” I said. “Are you really a fairy?”

The path we’d been following had ended at a wall of tall, thick hedges, no more than twenty feet wide, right smack-dab in the middle of the courtyard.

“Hold on,” Ozma said, suddenly distracted. “I want to show you something.”

She waved her scepter in a wide arc, and as she did it, the hedges parted, revealing a small opening. Ozma slipped right through it. After a moment’s hesitation I followed, and as the opening grew shut behind us, I found myself in a hedge maze. To my left and right, narrow grassy paths were bounded by impenetrable shrubbery that rose high over our heads. In front of us was another opening, and on the other side of that more paths and another hedge wall.