Authors: Danielle Paige
“Your Majesty,” she said, her voice shaking. Technically, Ozma was the only person in the palace we should have addressed as “Your Majesty,” since technically she was still the queen. But Dorothy was only too happy not to correct us.
Soon we won’t even notice she’s taken over everything
, I thought. The expression on Dorothy’s face was different than I’d ever seen it—instead of her usual scowl of adolescent petulance, she looked positively malevolent. A chill ran down my spine. Something was very, very wrong.
I have to get Astrid out of here
, I thought frantically, taking a step forward. But it was too late.
“Annie,” Dorothy crooned. “I’ve been
waiting
for the roast
all evening
. Jellia told me it’s
extra
special tonight. Was there a
problem
in the kitchen, Astrid?”
“A p-problem, Your Majesty?”
“Something that might cause such a significant delay with the service,” Dorothy said, her voice dripping honeyed menace. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Whatever happened next was not going to be good. “It must have been something simply
disastrous
, to keep a guest as honored as Glinda waiting.”
Astrid’s mouth trembled, her smile widening desperately and then faltering altogether. From the other end of the table, Glinda laughed. “Now, Dorothy,” she said. “There’s no need to be upset. I’m perfectly content.”
“This is my palace!” Dorothy shrieked, all the syrupy sweetness gone from her voice. Her eyes blazed as she reached out and grabbed Astrid’s arm, sending the platter clattering to the floor and the roast flying for the second time. Dorothy’s glossy red talons dug into Astrid’s flesh, and tears filled Astrid’s eyes as a trickle of blood ran down her arm. “You know what we
do
in my palace with servants who cannot perform their tasks properly?” She released Astrid’s blood-streaked arm and leaned back in her chair.
Glinda put one pale hand on Dorothy’s arm. “Not yet, Dorothy,” Glinda said, so low I almost missed it. “The time is not yet.” I stared at Dorothy, my mouth half open in horror. She’d been cruel before, entitled and prone to outbursts. But I’d never seen her do anything like this.
“No, Your Majesty!” Astrid cried, sinking to her knees and sobbing. “Please, Your Majesty, I’m sorry—I’m so sorry—it will never happen again—miss, please, don’t hurt me—”
“That’s enough,” I said sharply. Dorothy looked up at me, her eyes narrowed with surprise. “I made a mistake with the order of the dishes. There’s no need to punish Astrid.” I added a hasty and belated, “Your Majesty.”
“Is that so,” Dorothy said. Her sudden calm was even more terrifying than her rage of moments ago. “Really, Jellia, you disappoint me.”
“The servants are my responsibility,” I said.
“Are you disagreeing with how I choose to discipline them?”
I took another deep breath. If I could distract Dorothy and calm her down, we might all get out of this banquet unscathed. “Of course not, Your Majesty,” I said. “As always, your wisdom is boundless. But I should have known that—that”—I racked my brain and hit on an idea—“I should have known that Astrid was too young to wait on such an important guest. The pressure was too much for her. She’s just nervous, Your Eminence—please, there’s no need to punish her.” I curtsied in Glinda’s direction for good measure, and caught an evil little smile flicker across her face and vanish again.
“Your head maid is a feisty little thing, isn’t she?” Glinda said, turning from Dorothy to me. “Come here.” Surprised, I looked at Dorothy, whose expression was uncertain. Astrid, forgotten, began to creep away from the table on her hands and knees.
“Obey Glinda, Jellia,” Dorothy snapped. I curtsied again and walked over to where Glinda was seated. She’d barely touched her food; her plate was still full. From a distance, she was beautiful; up close, she was even more so. Her soft strawberry-blond curls framed her heart-shaped, ageless face. Her eyes were a bright, cornflower blue. She was wearing a pale pink ball gown sewn together out of what looked like tiny scales of leather; the effect was almost like armor, but still managed to be pretty. She stretched out one delicate, immaculately manicured hand and gripped my chin, turning my face back and forth as she studied me like a bug under a magnifying glass. Her blue eyes bored into me and I felt as though I were falling into a bottomless pool, sinking deeper and deeper below the surface as I helplessly watched the sunlight recede above me and the darkness intensify all around me.
You’re supposed to be the
Good
Witch
, I thought faintly. But the look in Glinda’s eyes was cold, hard, appraising.
“You can’t just have my maid,” Dorothy said indignantly. Her voice broke the spell. I inhaled sharply, as though I’d just been underwater. “She’s
mine.
” What was she talking about?
“Just for the summer,” Glinda said, her eyes not leaving my face. “You can have her back just as soon as I’m done with her, Dorothy. You wouldn’t begrudge me this one favor, would you? After everything I’ve done for you?” Her voice was so syrupy I swore I could see the words oozing out of her mouth and flowing across the table toward Dorothy like a pink, sugary tide. Dorothy blinked, her mouth falling open a little, as the thick, shimmering liquid slid up the front of her dress and into her open mouth. Dorothy licked her lips, which glistened as though they’d been dipped in sugar. I blinked. I wasn’t imagining it.
“Just for the summer,” she whispered. But Glinda wasn’t looking at her; she was still staring at me.
You see it, don’t you, little girl? You can
see
the magic, not just feel it.
I heard her voice inside my mind, but her lips weren’t moving. Her fingers tightened on my chin and I went rigid with terror. I had never been so frightened in my life.
You don’t even know what you are, do you? You haven’t the faintest idea,
she crooned inside my skull.
I can make much use of you, child. Much use indeed.
She let me go and I staggered backward, nearly falling to the floor. Around us, the guests who’d fallen silent during Dorothy’s tantrum began to chat nervously again, and the buzz of conversation filled the banquet hall. The servants, moving hesitantly at first and then with more confidence, refilled glasses and cleared plates, brought out trays piled with colorful desserts. The room returned to normal for everyone but me.
“Just for the summer,” Glinda said pleasantly. “I think it will be such a wonderful time. Don’t you, Jellia?”
My heart hammering in my chest, my limbs finally released from her terrible power, I answered in the only way I could. I turned and fled the room.
Packing for the journey to Glinda’s was simple. I told myself that Glinda was telling the truth, no matter how much she’d scared me the night before: this would just be for the summer. There was no need to clean out my room in the Emerald Palace. Just a few dresses and pairs of shoes. Glinda would probably have her own servants’ uniforms, but I added my work dress just in case. I looked over my tidy little room and neatly arranged possessions, wondering if I’d ever see them again, and quickly squashed that thought. Of course I’d be back. Dorothy would insist on it, and Dorothy was in charge now. I had made myself indispensable to her. I tried not to think about how easily Glinda had overruled Dorothy the night before, or just how powerless Dorothy had been when confronted with Glinda’s magic. Or to wonder what Glinda wanted me for.
I snapped my fingers, and an image of all the other servants wavered into life before me, transparent and iridescent as a soap bubble. I could summon up their images whenever I wanted, I told myself. I could probably even send them messages, though I’d never tried to use my magic over long distances before. This summer I would learn how much I was capable of doing.
The hardest part was saying good-bye. Astrid had already burst into my room first thing that morning, her face wet with tears. “Jellia!” she wailed, flinging her arms around me and almost knocking me over onto my bed. “You can’t go! It’s all my f-f-fault,” she sobbed into my shoulder. “Who will look after us when you’re gone? Who will protect us?”
“It’s just for the summer,” I said firmly, gently moving her head off my shoulder before she blew snot all over me. “You’ll have to be strong, Astrid. You can’t always rely on other people to fight your battles for you. This summer will be your chance to grow up.”
She’s just a kid
, I thought, patting her back awkwardly.
How can she stand up to Dorothy? What will they do without me?
Technically,
I
was just a kid, but I’d always had a good head on my shoulders and a lot of responsibility. I felt about a million years older than Astrid, even though we were nearly the same age. And though I tried not to let her see it, inside I was almost as upset as she was. Glinda was seriously scary—and I had no idea what lay in store for me.
Despite our hasty departure, word had spread fast around the palace, and all the servants were assembled in the courtyard to see me off. I took a deep breath, determined not to cry. I looked around for Ozma but wasn’t totally surprised by her absence. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her walking around in the palace, and it made me worry even more about Dorothy’s plans.
Glinda hovered a few feet away—literally, her glittery heels floating a few inches off the cobblestones. She had dressed for the journey as if she were headed to a ball. Her pale pink dress was embroidered with glittering gold thread and the bodice was studded with clear gemstones that caught the sunlight and refracted it into a blinding dazzle. Her hair was piled on top of her head and secured with more gems. A small squad of the Tin Woodman’s soldiers stood at attention behind her mechanical carriage, their metallic bodies gleaming in the bright courtyard as the automaton horses—wired together out of tin and wood and gems—stamped their feet mechanically, their tinny neighing breaking the still air. Glinda beamed benevolently while the other servants came forward one by one to say good-bye. It wasn’t like Dorothy to allow the servants a moment’s respite, but Glinda’s departure seemed to have put her in a good mood. She stood a few feet away from the witch, decked out in a tiny-waisted leather dress pieced together out of blue and white squares. As always, her red shoes emitted a rosy halo of light.
Astrid was still sobbing like the sweet little idiot she was; I had to resist the urge to pat her on the head like a dog. Hannah, the maid who was closest to me in age—and the closest thing I had to a best friend—came up to hug me. The Munchkin cooks surrounded me, flinging their arms around my knees and crying “Jellia! Jellia! Don’t go!” in unison. I was touched, even if they made walking a little awkward.
“It’s just for a few months,” I reassured them, hugging them one by one. “I promise. You’ll barely notice I was gone. Take good care of Dorothy—don’t forget about the bacon—”
“—and color code her dresses,” Hannah finished. “We know, J. It’ll be okay.” Astrid wailed aloud, and Hannah rolled her eyes. I laughed. She always knew how to cheer me up.
“
Jellia
,” Glinda cooed, “we
really
must be going. You’ll see all your little friends again before you even know it! I need your help at
my
palace now.”
I gave everyone one last wave before I climbed reluctantly into Glinda’s carriage. To my surprise, I saw the Scarecrow stumble out of the palace, carrying an enormous satchel. Behind him stretched a line of the Tin Woodman’s soldiers, carrying various pieces of mechanical equipment and machine parts. Another carriage drew up behind Glinda’s, and the soldiers busied themselves loading it with their burdens while the Scarecrow supervised.
“He’s always late,” Glinda said, and sighed. Gone was the terrifying witch of the night before; in the afternoon sunlight, she looked radiant and gentle, although her voice had a peevish tone that belied her sweet expression. Finally, the second carriage was loaded to the Scarecrow’s satisfaction, and he gave Glinda a jaunty wave.
“Everything will work as we discussed?” she called in a honeyed voice. He nodded jerkily, his black button eyes flashing in the sun.
“If the girl has enough magic to power the device,” he said. The Scarecrow only spoke rarely, and his dry, straw-like voice always sent chills through me. What girl was he talking about? Did he mean
me
? What magic could I possibly have?
“Oh, I’m confident of that,” Glinda said gaily. “I believe in the power of positive thinking, don’t you? If everything’s ready, I think it’s time we were going.” She rapped sharply on the roof of the carriage, and the driver snapped to life with a whirr of clockwork. “Good-bye, Dorothy!” Glinda sang merrily. “Good-bye, Emerald City! Say good-bye, Jellia! We’ve got such adventures ahead of us!”
I did not like the sound of that at all. I waved out the window as the servants shrank behind us in the distance, and I didn’t turn back to face the road until they were nothing more than tiny dots against the glittering green of the Emerald Palace. Whatever happened next, I was on my own now.
I had only been outside the Emerald City a handful of times in my life, and despite my anxiety about what lay ahead of me, I couldn’t help a surge of excitement as the carriage passed through the immense gates of the city and onto the Road of Yellow Brick. Next to me, Glinda lay back against her seat with her eyes closed, looking for all the world like a pretty young girl taking a nap. If I’d hoped she would give me some clue as to what she wanted with me, I clearly wasn’t going to get it. I used the brief respite from her razor-sharp attention to look out the carriage window at the countryside. Once we were out of the gates, the radiant green aura of the city dissipated. Hills gave way to rolling farmland; cornstalks bobbed in the wind, and neatly tended orchards stretched toward the horizon in even rows. The trees didn’t talk anymore—that had been one of Dorothy’s first decrees, she said they gave her a headache—but their silence didn’t affect the views. We’d been traveling for an hour or so when Glinda opened her eyes next to me and sat up, rapping on the roof of the carriage with her knuckles. We drew to a halt, and she stepped out of the carriage. I stayed where I was, confused, until I heard her call sweetly, “Jellia! What on earth are you waiting for? Surely you’re not shirking your duties already?” I got out hastily.