With all the magic in Oz, with all the magic the witches had taught me, there was one trick I still hadn’t mastered: how to make people stay.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The hedge maze basically showed me the way out, opening up its walls for me. As I passed, the bitey flowers made sweet little kissy noises at me. That didn’t really cheer me up.
I returned Star to my room, hiding her back in the drawer and using some of the padding from my ripped-up mattress to make her a bed. I figured the Tin Soldiers wouldn’t bother tossing my room twice. After that, I rejoined the other maids, scrubbing and dusting through the rest of the afternoon. No one seemed to have missed me, although I didn’t see Jellia anywhere.
Around dinnertime, the sun came back up. Dorothy must’ve been awake.
The maid staff was only half done with our meals when all of our bells started ringing at once. Something was wrong, and as they led us to the throne room, it wasn’t hard to guess what.
It wasn’t just the maids. The halls were crowded with people all heading in the same direction: guards, gardeners, deliverymen, cooks, everyone. I even saw the Wizard’s hat sailing through the procession.
“They know who it is,” someone behind me whispered. “They’ve discovered the traitor who helped the monkey escape.”
Even though I’d barely had time to touch my dinner, I felt sick to my stomach. If they knew who it was, then they knew it was me. I knew how Dorothy liked to work: that she was looking forward to calling me out from the crowd in front of everyone, making me beg and humiliate myself while she tortured me with my own fear.
I thought about running. I could teleport myself to the hedge maze and hide in there. I could make it out before the Tin Soldiers had the chance to grab me.
Or I could summon my knife and fight.
I knew one thing for sure: I wasn’t going back to one of those tiny dungeon cells. And I damn sure wasn’t going to the Scarecrow’s lab for any Attitude Adjustment.
Before I could decide anything for sure, Sindra sidled up next to me.
“I just can’t wait for things to get back to normal,” she said. “You know, I found a metal screw in my bed. The Tin Soldiers must have searched the room. And what if I’m the traitor? I mean, I did bring up some of those hay bales.”
I shook my head. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” I replied, and picked up my pace to get ahead of her.
As we entered the throne room, my eyes came to rest on the Wizard. He observed the crowd with an inscrutable smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He stood in the middle of the crowd, but separate, too, as if he were surrounded by an invisible bubble. Really, it was that people were a little afraid of him. They didn’t want to stand too close. I was just surprised that he was down here with all us common servants.
The staff milled about, chatting, some of the maids taking the opportunity to flirt with the guards, but it all came to a halt when the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman entered. The crowd hushed as the two took their places next to the two empty thrones.
Audible gasps and a smattering of clapping rippled through the crowd when Dorothy sashayed into the room. It was the first time I’d seen her since the incident in her chambers a few days ago, and I noticed with disgust that all the beauty sleep seemed to be working—her skin looked perfect, like a doll’s, not a blemish to be seen. The spike heels of her magic shoes—which I pointedly avoided looking at—sparked against the marble with her every step. Dorothy’s hair bounced at her shoulders, even more shiny and perfect today than ever. She wore a leather dress of that familiar blue-and-white pattern that hugged her farm-girl curves before fishtailing out at the bottom.
Dorothy sat on her throne, daintily crossed her legs, and regarded us all with an expression equal parts imperious and murderous. At her side, the second throne—usually reserved for Ozma—remained empty. I guessed that the actual princess wasn’t important enough to get invited to this sort of thing.
The Tin Woodman banged the butt of his ax on the floor.
“Attention!” he shouted, as if everyone in the crowd wasn’t already staring at the throne.
Slowly, a thousand-watt grin spread across Dorothy’s face, as insincere as a piranha’s. She cleared her throat and her voice began to echo through the room.
“My aunt Em used to say there wasn’t any such thing as being too generous,” she said. “My dear aunt Em was never a princess, of course, but I still try to live by her words. I like to think I treat you all not just as subjects but as friends.”
She paused, and the crowd responded with clapping and cheering, not all of it entirely forced. I had to say, this wasn’t the Dorothy I’d expected. She might have been a total bitch in private, but she sure knew how to work a room.
“And how am I repaid for my generosity?” Dorothy went on, a hand daintily spread across her cleavage, her tone suddenly wounded. “With betrayal. A betrayal of me, a betrayal of Oz, a betrayal of all of you.”
Angry muttering began to spread through the room. They were actually buying this crap.
I could practically feel her eyes boring right through the crowd and into my skull. I knew that, at any second, she would be dispatching the Tin Soldiers to push through the audience and drag me up to the throne to be punished in front of everyone. My fists clenched. I was scared, yes, but also felt my anger starting to rise. I must be prepared to draw my dagger and make sure Oz’s benevolent ruler died first.
“We will have our justice!” Dorothy shouted. “The truth always reveals itself.”
Cheering again. They couldn’t make up their minds—were they angry or happy? Were they really clapping for the downfall of a traitor? Or because it wasn’t them being punished today?
“Bravest Lion,” Dorothy said through clenched teeth, “bring me the traitor.”
The Lion loped out from the door behind the throne. A murmur went through the crowd. The Lion’s ferocious figure was always intimidating but the nervousness sweeping the room was also partly owed to the prisoner he dragged behind him.
Jellia Jamb, the head maid and Dorothy’s most trusted lady-in-waiting, her hands bound behind her back.
I lurched forward in surprise, bumping shoulders with one of the guards. He glared at me, but I hardly noticed. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Jellia. This wasn’t right. Not at all.
The Lion held her with one paw digging into her arm through the puffy sleeves of her uniform. Her hair was disheveled, her face ashen and quivering. The PermaSmile had been wiped from her face. Her uniform was all torn up.
My mind raced. Was this a trap? Was Jellia going to inform against me? Or was she going to take the fall?
Her keys. Oh no. I’d stolen her keys, they’d figured it out, and now she was to blame.
My fault. This was my fault.
“Come forward,” Dorothy demanded, curling a finger at Jellia.
The Lion released her and Jellia stepped forward, righting herself quickly when she stumbled for a moment.
Dorothy looked her up and down, clucking her tongue. Then she stood up and straightened the crooked flaps of Jellia’s collar.
“There,” Dorothy said, almost intimately, almost like she was just speaking to Jellia. If I didn’t know better, I’d think there was something tender about it.
I held my breath. What was she going to do to her? And, more importantly, what was I going to do about it? I couldn’t just stand here while someone else got blamed for my crimes against Dorothy.
“Jellia,” Dorothy said, sitting back onto her throne and crossing her legs casually. “You stand accused of freeing the monkey, Maude, from the Scarecrow’s private medical facility where she was being kept for her own good. How do you plead?”