“Where did you get the silver shoes?”
The question surprises me, even as I remember Taavi telling me to never take them off. He said that nobody else could either. Guess he was right, since I'm still wearing them.
But that question has seriously perked up my mood.
If Dorothy's asking me about the shoes, then she doesn't know everything. I do have something of a bargaining chip up my sleeve, don't I? Maybe I could offer up the shoes in exchange for freedom? By asking me about them, she's just tipped her hand. Clearly, the shoes matter to her. A lot. I mean, it's the very first question she's decided to ask me, after all.
“I got them from the Wicked Witch of the East, when my house fell on her and killed her,” I reply with a bit of a smirk, taking a few steps closer to the dais where the throne sits. Tuala sits down on the steps beside Dorothy's throne, watching me carefully.
“I see.” Dorothy leans forward, putting her elbows on her knees and steepling her fingers together. She rests her chin on them as she watches me. “A clever way to use the East's weakness against her; cardinal witches are not easy to kill, and gravity, in particular, is not an easy weapon to wield.”
Gravity? I think, remembering Stryker's face when he told me the only thing that scared him was a lit match. Ah. So that was her weakness. How … unfortunate for her.
“Where did you get the mark upon your forehead?” Dorothy continues conversationally, watching me like I'm something to be wary of. Interesting. I remember the servant girl's fear and wonder what it is that they're both so afraid of. The wizard thing? But if so, then what the hell happened to my magic? I'm not exactly an expert in it, but when Stryker uncurled my fingers and touched the tips of his to them, I could feel it. It was there, and it wasn't so hard to find when I knew to look.
But now it's gone.
“Ah, well,” I start, remembering that awful kiss. Well, I mean, it was a good kiss. A great kiss, even. But I didn't ask for it, and consent is kind of a thing with me. My eyes narrow. Fucking Bain the Good Witch. What a piece of work. “That's where the Good Witch of the North kissed me when he bade me goodbye and sent me to you.” I shrug my shoulders. Might as well be honest until I have reason to do otherwise.
Dorothy cocks her head slightly to one side.
“You were on your way here, to Emerald City?” she clarifies, and I nod. She had her general kidnap me and kill one of my friends, and yet, she doesn't seem to know shit about me. “What is your relationship with Stryker, the Vain and Arrogant?”
My stomach twists at the mention of his name. He's dead. His blood spattered across me, hot and steaming. Even if I didn't know the man for shit, that'll remain one of the worst moments of my life. Pretty sure I'm still in shock over it.
“Does it matter now?” I ask, my voice cracking just slightly. “What do you want from me?”
“The question, my fellow wizard, is what do you wish from me?” Dorothy smiles at me, and it's not entirely unpleasant. If I hadn't seen my friend murdered by her general's hand, I might've believed it. “You say you were traveling to the Emerald City to see me, so there must be something you need?”
The words crouch on the tip of my tongue: send me back to Kansas; I don't like your country, it's as beautiful as it is deadly. Instead, I wet my lips and think over my answer carefully.
“I want Taavi back to normal,” I say, pointing at the dog and lifting my chin. Act as if you deserve good things, and they'll find their way to you, my dad used to say. That's what I need to do now, act as if I deserve what I'm asking for, instead of pleading for it. “And I want help finding my Aunt Emily. She disappeared sometime after I arrived in Oz.”
Dorothy and Tuala exchange a glance before turning back to me.
“Give me the shoes,” Dorothy says, still smiling that pretty smile of hers. She holds out her hand, as if she expects me to simply pass them over. Something feels wrong about this; I don't like it. I remember my own words of wisdom, to never bargain with the fae. Dorothy does have wings on her back although I’m pretty sure they’re fake, but I still don't trust her.
“Give you the shoes, and I get Taavi back?” I ask for clarification, and Dorothy smiles a little wider.
“Anything you wish for, Oz, you can have.” She raises her perfectly manicured brows at me, hand still extended, waiting. “Now, pass the shoes over and I'll gift you emerald-studded heels in return, enchanted ones that allow the wearer to dance any dance known to the land of Oz without missing a step.”
