“Have you seen that boy around with the crazy green eyes?” I asked casually. “I wonder when he takes his break.”
Hannah looked up at me, surprised.
“Who? You mean one of the guards?”
“No, I think he’s a gardener.”
“Oh, don’t be silly, Astrid,” she said.
I blinked. “What do you mean?”
“You know any fraternization is strictly forbidden.”
“Oh,” I said, trying to figure out a way to cover my mistake. Before I could, Hannah leaned in close enough to whisper.
“I let Bryce—you know, the baker I was telling you about?—sneak into my room the other night,” she whispered. “But don’t tell anyone. I don’t want to get punished for Smuttiness again.”
“I promise I won’t,” I whispered back.
“I’ll keep an eye out for your boy, too,” Hannah said. “But I haven’t seen anyone with eyes like that.”
I leaned in close to the floor, trying to scrub away a particularly stubborn piece of dirt. Who was Pete?
After we finished the Tin Woodman’s suite, we were allowed a fifteen-minute break in the servants’ mess hall. For a snack, Jellia brought out an array of stale muffin bottoms. Apparently, Dorothy ate only the tops.
While the other girls ate with a chorus of “oohs” and “aahs”—I guess muffin butts were a treat around here—I took a moment to study the postings on the mess hall walls. There were a ton of brightly colored signs about proper cleaning techniques and uniform maintenance, but also a color-coded schedule of palace personnel. I tried to memorize it, particularly the times when the guards changed shift. Knowing when there could be gaps in Dorothy’s protection would definitely come in handy. The big wild cards were the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman. They weren’t in the habit of posting their schedules anywhere, even though I knew they were always somewhere in the palace. The Lion, too, was rumored to be around.
The idea of seeing the Lion again, after what he’d done to Gert, made me sick.
But it wasn’t my job to be sick. It was my job to get past them, and I’d have my hands full enough with that as it was. One thing at a time. First, get a read on Dorothy’s comings and goings, then—
“Are you not eating, dear?”
It was Jellia. She’d sidled up next to me without my noticing.
“I will,” I replied quickly, waving at the fluorescent step-by-step guide to mopping. “Just feeling like I could use a refresher. I want to stay sharp for Dorothy.”
Jellia nodded approvingly and handed me a muffin butt wrapped in a napkin.
“Good girl,” she said. “Just remember to keep your strength up. It’s important.”
Jellia wasn’t kidding around. By the end of that first day I was so exhausted, I collapsed immediately onto my tiny bed. What’d felt stiff and lumpy the night before now seemed to my aching body like the most comfortable spot in all of Oz. The calluses on Astrid’s hands hadn’t prepared me for how intense a full day of nonstop cleaning could be.
I made it through. One full day posing as a maid, and no one seemed suspicious. Well, except for Ozma, but I hadn’t seen her around at all that day. And Dorothy’s guards didn’t come knocking down my door, which meant Ozma had kept her mouth shut. That was a relief.
Better yet, I didn’t see any more of the Scarecrow’s brains after that terrifying first night. Rumor was he’d locked himself up in his laboratory—wherever that was no one seemed to know—hard at work on some project. In the meantime, we maids were instructed to leave his daily hay bale delivery outside his bedroom door. Secret science experiments were obviously ominous and something I should look into, but I was mostly just relieved the Scarecrow didn’t have time for his creepy dalliances with Astrid. Through the night, the bell next to my bed remained mercifully silent.
Today I’d mastered the routine and gotten used to my new body. Tomorrow, I’d work on getting closer.
The next day was more of the same. Cleaning my way through the palace alongside Hannah and the other maids, I started to put together an idea of Dorothy’s day. I didn’t get to see her or actually wait on her—it was more her absence that painted a picture. The bitch cast a long shadow.
First, I observed the hustle and bustle in the kitchen, the cooks preparing Dorothy’s breakfast. We’re talking a thorough inspection of bacon here, because Dorothy apparently doesn’t like it too crispy. That bacon then went upstairs on a tray, presumably to undergo a thorough inspection by Jellia before being allowed to be delivered bedside by a shaky maid.
The first room on our cleaning circuit, as outlined in Jellia’s thorough flow chart, was Dorothy’s solarium. It was her preferred location for midday tea with the ladies. I was partnered with Sindra, which meant I did most of the cleaning while Sindra gazed longingly at all of Dorothy’s gaudy decorations. After the solarium, our next stop was the nearby bathroom, where Sindra and I came upon a well-to-do woman in an elegant sundress, staring into the mirror like she was trying to psych herself up before skydiving. This was one of Dorothy’s ladies. She pretended not to notice us.
“That’s Lady Aurellium,” Sindra gossiped on our way out. “Her husband used to be the Master of Coin.”
“I didn’t even recognize her,” I said, then took a chance. “Horrible what happened to Lord Aurellium.”
Sindra snorted. “Well, he shouldn’t have told Dorothy what she couldn’t spend the palace reserves on.”
I didn’t press her further, but it sure sounded to me like something dark had befallen Lord Aurellium. And now here was his wife, a playdate for Dorothy. So she spent her days entertaining the important people of Oz she hadn’t yet executed or driven into hiding.
Around teatime, we almost crossed Dorothy’s path. It was impossible not to hear her coming. Her red high heels clicked unnaturally loudly through the halls, as if amplified by magic. Not to mention she brought with her the heavy footfalls of her bodyguards and the tittering of her entourage, a group of gaudily dressed Dorothy-appointed beauty experts and jesters, all of them constantly jabbering about how wonderful she was. I wanted to get a look at my target, but Hannah yanked me away.
Dorothy was never alone, I realized. It was unclear whether that was a tactical decision—or maybe even she couldn’t stand to be alone with herself.
After teatime, Dorothy either took a nap or met with her council of advisers, or possibly both. Either way, we weren’t allowed on the upper floors during that time, lest we disturb Her Greatness.
There was no way the maids didn’t see how screwed up everything was. But they went cheerfully along. Or, at least, they pretended to. Never for a moment did they doubt Dorothy’s magnificence and kindness and perfection.
It was like they were brainwashed. Either that or scared out of their minds.
Later that day, a whistling Jellia and I were sweeping dirt from the narrow hallway that ran between the palace and the Royal Gardens when the unmistakable clanking of metal parts came echoing in our direction. The unspoken rule among the maids was to stay out of sight of Dorothy and her advisers—particularly the metallic Grand Inquisitor and his Tin Soldiers—except that wasn’t an option now. There weren’t any doors or exits in our little hall; either we ran back toward the palace in the direction of the incoming metal man, or we ducked into the Royal Gardens where servants were strictly forbidden.
Jellia’s giddy facade melted under a fresh burst of panic. She froze, clutching her broom and staring down the hall. I grabbed her and pulled her over to the side of the hallway, our backs tight against the wall. She was shaking.
“It’s okay,” I told her. “We haven’t done anything wrong.”