“Well, blue and white anyway,” I hedge, glancing at Taavi again, but he seems okay with my answers. I bet he wouldn’t hesitate to slap a hand over my mouth if he thought I was about to say something wrong.
“It is kind of you to wear that,” the fae man continues, ducking his head. “Blue is the color of the Munchkins, and white is a sorceress’ color. So we know you are a friendly sorceress.”
“Oz, the Great and Terrible, is more than just a sorceress,” Taavi declares, lifting his chin up with a growl. The Munchkin cowers, dropping to his knees in supplication.
“I make no presumptions, Great Wizard. If you do not wish to make merry with us, then on behalf of Clan Boq, please accept my offer of accommodations for the night.” He glances in the direction of the woods and shudders. “The Y.B.R. is not safe after dark.”
“We accept the offer. Bring us food without any enchantments upon it.” Taavi turns and opens the gate, leading me through the gathered Munchkin crowd. I notice that, like when I saw them with Bain, all of the Munchkins are male. I don’t see a single female until we step into the house. There’s a woman sitting near the fireplace in the kitchen area, her wings a rainbow of colors, as opposed to the translucent shimmer of the other Munchkins’.
“We’re okay to stay here?” I ask as Taavi pauses at the bottom of the steps, waiting for our fairy guide to catch up. The man scrambles to please Taavi, leading us to a gloriously appointed guest room at the end of the hallway before bowing and excusing himself.
“Clan Boq, the richest and most powerful Munchkin clan in the East,” Taavi says, before dropping his dark gaze to my face. “We’re safer sleeping here tonight than out there.” He gestures for me to step into the room, and then closes the door behind us.
“How far is it to the Emerald City anyway?” I ask as I move around the room. These people really like the color blue. It’s everywhere: on the bedspread, the wallpaper, the chaise sofas near the stone fireplace. And speaking of the bed, it’s tiny, little Munchkin tiny. I’ll barely be able to fit on it, let alone Taavi.
He takes a seat on the blue rug at the end of the bed. It’s a little predictable, considering that was one of his favorite spots as a dog.
“I do not know,” he replies easily. “I’ve never been there. It’s better for people to keep away from Dorothy, unless they have business with her. But it is a long way to the Emerald City, that much I do know. The country here is rich and pleasant, but we’ll have to pass through rough and dangerous places before we reach the end of our journey.”
There’s a knock on the door, and Taavi pauses, waiting until the Munchkins have finished delivering our food before he starts to talk again.
“Eat up. Our chances of finding viable food options along the way are limited. This could very well be the last time you sleep in a bed until we reach the city.” He stands up, locks the door, and then waits for me to uncover the silver trays. The food looks much the same as it did outside, but after a quick sniff from Taavi, he declares it edible.
Thank whatever gods they pray to in Oz because I’m starving. You wouldn’t think a person in a coma-induced delusion would get such realistic hunger pangs, but I decide it’s better for my own sanity if I don’t overanalyze that thought.
Actually … as I yawn and stretch my arms over my head, I have to wonder: if I go to sleep here, will I wake up at home? It’s worth a shot, right?
“You’re really going to sleep on the floor, aren’t you?” I ask as Taavi curls up on the rug.
“I am,” he says, and with a shrug, I start to kick off the silver shoes when Taavi snatches me by the ankle.
“Do not take those shoes off,” he warns, his voice gravely serious. “Under any circumstances.”
With a roll of my eyes, I crawl into the bed as I am.
“Whatever you say, Taavi Toto,” I tell him as I curl up on the tiny bed and drag the blue covers over my head.
What’s the point in arguing with him when I’m pretty damn sure that I’ll wake up to find that this was all a dream?
Or a nightmare.“Oz, wake up,” a voice calls from far away. With a groan, I stretch in the bed, reveling in the softness of the sheets.
“Five more minutes,” I murmur, nestling into the pillow. My feet hang off the end of the bed, and I figure I must’ve shifted in my sleep. Scooting up, I end up slamming my head into the wooden headboard. “Fuck.” Sitting up suddenly, I realize that I’m not in my bed in Seattle, not in my shittier bed in Kansas, but instead still in the child-sized Munchkin bed.
