“Come with us,” he said urgently, and jerked his chin in the direction of the stone wall that separated the Royal Gardens from the Emerald City. “I can bring you to the Dark Jungle and the other Wingless Ones.”
I trusted the monkeys. But even though I still hadn’t heard from the Order, I knew I had to see this thing through. I shook my head. “No,” I replied, gritting my teeth and trying to pull it together. “My mission is here.”
In the darkness, I couldn’t tell whether the look on Ollie’s face was admiration or pity.
“In that case, Amy of Kansas,” he said. “You need to stand up.”
I struggled to my feet, every muscle sore and aching. I felt like I might crumble back to the ground at any second. When I was finally up, Ollie shifted Maude into one arm and held out his other hand to me.
I reached out to grip it, thinking that he was just saying good-bye. But he pressed something metal into my palm. When I looked down, I saw that it was a tiny silver arrow, no bigger than the needle on an ordinary compass.
“It will lead you to the Wingless Ones,” Ollie said. “Keep it safe. Keep it with you. Use it to find us when you need us most.”
I blinked at him, shocked. He had made no secret of how the Wingless Ones wanted nothing to do with the Wicked. He knew I was loyal to them, and he was trusting me with this anyway.
“We work for no one,” Ollie said, as if he sensed my surprise. “But you have proven yourself. You are our friend, and we will help you however we can.”
“Thank you,” was all I managed to say.
The words were barely out of my mouth and he was already on the move, carrying Maude toward the shadows of the wall. Once there, he didn’t climb over. Instead, he lifted up a flap of grass and disappeared beneath it. A tunnel, I realized. The Wingless Ones had dug a tunnel.
The silver arrow twitched in my fist in the direction of the wall. I now knew there was a way out, but I couldn’t yet take it.
I was lucky to make it back to my room, so weak I was practically crawling the whole way, without drawing any attention. At one point, I had to duck behind a curtain to avoid being spotted by a pair of palace guards. They were chatting about the freak accident in the Scarecrow’s room. Good. I hoped that meant nobody suspected foul play.
Well, at least until the Scarecrow discovered Maude missing and flipped out.
All I wanted to do was collapse into bed and sleep for a million years, but I couldn’t until I got myself cleaned up. As I washed the blood from my hands in the little basin by the cupboard, the sounds of bones cracking and feathers flapping echoed in my head. When I closed my eyes, all I saw were Maude’s twisted, injured wings falling into the grass.
I shuddered. Doing Good had been uglier than I’d expected it to be. And the price . . . the price now was feeling like I needed to always be looking over my shoulder. Maybe I’d taken too many risks.
And now, to get rid of the evidence, I needed to take one more. I felt dizzy, like I was spinning out of control, but I shoved it down, doing what needed to be done.
I pulled off my blood-crusted dress and placed it carefully on my bed. Waving my finger at it, I lit it with a magical flame. It burned quickly and noiselessly, its fabric blackening and smoking, hissing and popping. At least no one in the palace would find the smell of smoke out of place.
Though the fire danced across my sheets and mattress, the spell did its job. They remained unharmed by the flames.
I stood there, practically naked, just watching, my arms crossed across my chest until the evidence was finally disposed of. There wasn’t even a trace of ash left behind. It was as if it had never happened—the room wasn’t even hot.
But I could still see the fire burning on my retinas when I closed my eyes. Much smaller than the one I’d set outside the Scarecrow’s chambers. But with more magic. I felt weakened; an emptiness in my core like a hunger.
If Dorothy had detected my use of magic, I’d be in trouble. I needed some support. I needed someone to tell me what I’d done hadn’t been a total waste—what was one free monkey in the scheme of things? A minor victory at what cost?
Where was the Order? Why had they left me all on my own?
I turned to the mirror that I’d come somersaulting out of almost a week ago.
“Nox,” I said. My voice came out angrier than I meant it to. “Nox. I don’t know if you can see me. I don’t know if you’re listening. But I need you.”
There was no answer.
Chapter Thirty-Six
The hunt was already on when I woke up. From the tiny window in my room, I watched the monkeys circling the grounds. There were dozens of them in the air, swooping and diving. I couldn’t help realize that even though winged monkeys are controlled by magic, today they were tethered to long metal chains that fastened in thick collars at their necks and were being held from the ground by the Tin Soldiers, who just stood there looking up at their prisoners like they were flying kites at the beach. I guess with one runaway monkey, they didn’t want to take any chances that their magical power over the monkeys might be slipping.
They were searching for her.
I dressed slowly, feeling achy all over, and took an extra second to look at myself in the mirror. I half hoped that maybe Nox would appear there, but he didn’t. I kissed Star on the nose and tucked her away safely in her drawer. I think she was getting used to it, or at least had stopped trying to scratch her way out of it.
As I exited my room, I tried to inject a little extra pep in my step to make up for the worn-out feeling in my bones. Maybe I could borrow some of Jellia’s PermaSmile.
That reminded me. I had to get her keys back to her. I’d find a way to do it at breakfast. My stomach growled; apparently, starting a fire, overusing magic, and chopping the wings off a monkey made a girl extremely hungry.
Except, there was no breakfast: instead, the maid staff was lined up from one end of the hall to the other, no food in sight.
“What’s going on?” I asked Sindra, the maid next to me, as I joined the line.
“Surprise uniform inspection,” she replied. Sindra blinked her extra-long eyelashes and shrugged. She didn’t seem to have any clue that anything was up. Part of me envied her ignorance.
Jellia marched up and down the line, making sure everyone was in order for the inspection. Her scent was vastly improved; Dorothy must have finally let her take the mouse out of her pocket. She looked sharper than she had in days, but not quite chipper. Jellia knew something was up and it made her nervous.
When she passed me, I saw the tiniest look of alarm flit across her eyes. Her mouth, probably slathered with PermaSmile, didn’t move. My pulse raced as I tried to say calm. Had I missed something? Did I have one of Maude’s feathers stuck in my hair?
Jellia stepped toward me. She licked her thumb, and brusquely rubbed a spot behind my ear. A spot I couldn’t have seen in my mirror.
“Astrid,” she spoke quietly, without venom. “You’ve been slipping in your appearance lately. You’re really going to have to learn to be tidier.”
When she got close, I took the opportunity to slip Jellia’s keys back in her pocket. Her eyebrow arched at me—maybe she felt the tug against her smock—but she didn’t say anything more, just studied my face for a moment longer to make sure I was clean. I breathed a sigh of relief as she turned her back on me and continued her march down the line.
The clomping shuffle of metal against marble approached and then I knew for sure that this was no ordinary uniform inspection. Jellia stepped back and faced us. I felt the other girls tensing up at my side as they began to realize it wouldn’t be Jellia conducting the inspection.