27. Chapter 27
twenty-seven
Nick and I made our return to the castle without speaking. Still, we said plenty to one another during our trek through the drifting snow, which had begun to sift from a slate sky.
At the halfway mark, Nick glanced down at me, and I peered up at him.
I could not read his face. Not with that mask—not with those large goggle lenses that hid his eyes. Still, a strange sixth sense communication had, somewhere along the way, begun to develop between us. Nick uttered not one syllable, but the shift in his demeanor and the gradual slowing of his pace told me the wheels of his mind had begun to churn with new fervor.
The Emperor of the West held his tongue, though, and I didn’t press him to spill his thoughts for my examination. Nick would clue me into the escapades of his brain when he was ready.
So we kept walking, the wind pressing against us both, whipping the tail of my borrowed cloak, threatening to toss back the hood I fought to hold in place.
When we reached the castle’s front entrance, the guards flanking the iron doors left their posts to unlatch the entry and shove open the twin barriers.
Eddies of dust-like snow swirled in with us, mini cyclones that whirred like magic.
At my side, Nick paused. Slowly, he turned that goggled gaze back down on me, and I peered up at him, my eyes hopefully conveying that I’d received a small epiphany of my own along our stroll.
I didn’t need to break our silence, either, to communicate the particulars.
Pivoting toward Nick, I removed the ring Rye had placed (shoved, technically) on my left ring finger. With a bit of a show—one meant purely for Nick’s observance—I slid the ring onto the ring finger of my right hand.
Nick stared down at me for a long time and I, in turn, up at him.
Perhaps he was processing my actions, or even trying to dissect them.
Maybe, possibly, he was smiling beneath that mask, smug over my plan, which must have been obvious to him. After all, Rye was bound to notice—perhaps even straight away—that I had moved the ring. No doubt he, as much the king of appearances as he was of Oz, would bring up the anomaly at first chance.
In essence, by making a simple costume adjustment, I had ensured a candid and private conversation with Rye would happen. One which he would now be certain to initiate.
Another beat passed, and then Nick pivoted away from me to face forward again, toward the direction I presumed he would lead me. He didn’t lead me, though. Instead, betraying the particulars of his own plot, he made a show of…offering me his arm.
Previously, I’d taken that arm to distract Nick from my tête-à-tête with the guards, and to charm him out of being so grumpy. Now, I looped my arm through his with more hesitancy.
Also, Nick’s cloak, still draped around my shoulders, grew suddenly heavy—weighty enough to capture a large portion of my focus. And concern.
Because Nick’s plan, subtler than mine, struck me as also being…riskier.
But then, here I was, making my way down the hall with Nick, arm in arm with another king who was not my “husband.” Another king who was, however, one of the truest friends to the man, the king, who supposedly was.
Yet Nick and Rye had a past that neither of them knew of. Before their new incarnations as the Tin Man and The Scarecrow, the fates of these two had intersected with fatal results.
Any upset between them could tip the scales toward a disastrous revelation.
At least that was my fear. My paranoia…
I frowned as our steps echoed out of time with one another while we made our way through more doorways and beyond more sets of guards, their eyes flicking to us on occasion the way those of the figures in haunted portraits might.
Doubly anxious over what new rumors might now surface because of my latest outing with Nick—especially after this connected reentrance into the halls of his castle—I gave my arm the smallest tug, just to see how much Nick would yield, if at all.
Instead of loosening his grip, he tightened it, cinching my arm closer to him, snugger against his metal frame. He also lifted his other hand to capture mine, locking us together.
So. He was that certain about this angle.
I gritted my teeth and held my breath as we rounded yet another bend into a new corridor, one I’d never traveled down. An enormous open doorway waited at the far end. Flanked by guards, its rounded frame presented the picture of a large open room, its floor one of smooth black marble instead of stone.
The clatter and clangor of metal on metal echoed from within—swords clashing. The nearer we drew, the more distinct the quiet yet fervent shuffle of footsteps became.
If this approach of Nick’s backfired, how would that affect all the other relationships in play? All the personalities and people that, like the planets in the orrery at the Emerald City Palace, revolved around the sun that was Oz, would break apart, fly off into the ether, or worse, collide.
If Nick was concerned over any fallout, he didn’t show it. For now, since I trusted Nick, I would play this game with him. Just to see.
And, well…I was curious.
Rye had displayed jealousy over me once before—or some emotion like it. That had occurred before Dorothy had reentered the picture, and I would be lying to myself if I said I didn’t wish for some evidence, any evidence at all—even another jealous tantrum—to assure me I hadn’t just been, for Rye, a fleeting fancy. A second choice that he’d briefly considered since his first had abandoned him for another world.
I held my breath again as Nick led me through the entrance into the sprawling open room, a rectangular, high-ceilinged chamber lined on the far side with slender and tall diamond-patterned windows. Dusted with snow and trimmed with frost, the panes displayed only glowing whiteness. And though sconces chased the borders of the room and iron chandeliers floated high above, all fixtures remained darkened, the cold snow-diffused midday sunlight providing ample illumination.
Swords drawn, Rye and Pae occupied the room’s center. The pair circled one another, their footpaths tracing the circumference of an odd emblem inlaid into the floor—a marble medallion featuring a compass star with an intersected sun and crescent moon at its center. The four cardinal directions, each delineated by its corresponding letter, tipped the star’s longest points.
“Company has at last arrived,” said Pae, though he didn’t dare break his gaze from Rye’s, nor stop his revolution of the emblem. “Shall we call this one a draw, or take advantage of an audience?”
“You’ve yet to win a single match,” replied Rye, his own gaze refusing to stray from Pae. “An audience is unlikely to better your odds.”
“I won one, all right,” said Pae, halting. “The other night when I delivered you from the Silver Mountain Range after a Nome smashed you against a rockface like a child’s ragdoll. I’d win more of these little playtime matches, too, if the rules weren’t so…restrictive.”
“We’ll have another match then,” promised Rye who, stopping, sheathed his sword. A signal my arrival with Nick would pause the sparring. “But even with full use of your powers, you’ll still find yourself conquered.”
After stowing his own sword, Pae stuck one leg out and bowed low, the sweeping, overpronounced way a court jester might, tail switching behind him. “Of course, Mighty Scarer of Crows. I look forward to pretending to beg for mercy before chucking you through one of these lovely windows like the bale of straw you are.”
Well. Looked like these two were getting along better…
I scanned the room, searching for Dorothy. Finding her absent, I released the breath I’d been holding.
Jack, the only other soul in the room, occupied one corner. Seated on a coal-colored settee, he pored over loose papers splayed across the low coffee table before him. Leaning forward, he also scratched notes into a notebook, which lay open next to an enormous tome. Perhaps the volume he’d gone to hunt for that morning?
Though I wanted to call out to Jack to let him know I’d arrived, I refrained. Chances were, he’d sensed my arrival but wanted to finish whatever train of study or research currently commanded his attention.
Scholar, soldier, hero…
Jack had come a long way from being just a mere “chimera.”
“I’m assuming there’s a reason for the delay.”
Rye’s voice drew my attention back to the center of the room—to where he now stood alone atop that odd celestial medallion, his expression impassive, his gaze, aimed at me and Nick, intense.
Which of us had he meant to address? There was no telling. Before I could volunteer an answer, however, Nick replied.
“Tippetarius and I had a matter to discuss.”
“Ooo, a matter,” came a voice from behind us—which made me jump. Pae. “Sounds vague, ominous, and loosely fibby.”
At last, Nick released me. Unwinding his arm from mine, he departed from my side to approach Rye. Pae, in the meantime, claimed the vacated spot next to me.
“Greetings, Tippy Toes,” he said, “I heard about the roses.”
“Talking to the guards?” I prompted.
“They won’t talk to me,” he replied. “I…overheard them.”
He grinned, flashing that fanged smile. But that expression—along with his words—only made me frown. Hadn’t Nick just stated how he had forbidden Pae from eavesdropping on conversations within his castle? Maybe Pae hadn’t been in the castle. Or maybe Nick had only specified that his conversations should not be listened to.
Pae seemed to work in the realm of loopholes. In many ways, he could be classified as a walking loophole.
“Also,” said the demon, “did you know a few of the locals have turned your little summertime explosion spot into a park?”
I tilted my head at him, my frown deepening. “It’s not still there.”
“Oh,” said Pae, continuing to speak through that smile. “It is. And I didn’t see that particular display, but there’s no denying that oasis was your doing. It’s got powerful-greenhorn-sorceress-explodes-out-of-magic-bracers all over it.”
I fidgeted. And then, to give my hands something to do, I unlaced the tie of Nick’s cloak.
“Morella could suspend the effects of a spell, too,” said Pae, who shoved his hands into the pockets of his now-torn black pants with a shrug. “Provided she had enough blood.”
“Blood?”The word burst out of my mouth, booming through the ballroom, and bouncing back to me again, prompting everyone, including Jack, to peer my way.
“Relax,” said Pae. “The blood she used was hers, and it stayed in her veins. Still, she had to charge her Fairy blood. Multiply it. Strengthen it. Your surprise, though, tells me you didn’t have to do any of that.”
“Stop interrogating Tip,” ordered Rye.
“I’m not interrogating her,” snapped Pae. “I’m making observations.”
“You’re fishing for information,” said Rye, agitation knitting the cloth skin between his brows.
“Pertinent information,” returned Pae.
“Not to you.”
“Yes, to me,” hissed Pae, who broke away from me to stalk toward Rye again. “I’m a ruler of these lands now, too, if you haven’t forgotten.”
“That is up for debate.”
“There’s no debate.” This from Nick, whose low monotone words quieted everyone.
The tension soared in the resulting silence, prompting me to move—and insert myself between the trio, my steps taking me to the center of the marble medallion.
“Rye.” I swung Nick’s cloak off my shoulders and extended it to its owner. “Without Pae, the journey to The Silver Spring would have taken weeks. Pae has also allied himself and his followers with us. Nick did what he had to. And Pae has given us no reason to doubt him.”
After Nick collected his cloak without a word, he swung it behind him with a flourish before refastening the garment.
“Because we certainly couldn’t have made do without the help of demons,” Rye spat.
“You’re welcome, by the way,” snarled Pae.
I neared Rye and laid my hand on his arm.
“I know there’s a history between you and Pae that can’t be undone,” I said. “But without him, neither of us would be here right now.”
“The devil isn’t so wretched so long as he is perched on your shoulder rather than that of your enemy,” snipped Rye, “is that what you’re saying?”
“What’s done is done,” Nick replied. “Pae is our ally.”
“Until he proves otherwise,” grumbled Rye.
“Who is Tip really?” asked Pae as he folded his arms, the sudden shift in subjects making my head spin. “It’s obvious she is someone. Someone with a lot of Fairy blood. It’s also painfully obvious how hard you’re all trying to hide the specifics.”
“She’s the Queen of Oz,” replied Rye, his tone as well as his stare remaining frosty.
“That much is obvious,” said Pae. “But what about the magic? The powers Morella wanted so badly to possess? What about the roses that sprung from the castle grounds and, in the dead of winter and during the whole of one night, climbed the castle walls to pry their way into her room? What about the sphere of summer she brought to these barren, frozen lands—a patch of paradise that will not die?” Pae paused to point to Jack, who approached our circle. “What about that creature there who is not, I’ll have you know, a chimera.”
Eyes widening, I snapped my attention to Pae. “Jack is not a chimera?”
“I am a chimera,” corrected Jack as he edged closer. “At least…I fit the description of one.”
“And yet somehow,” argued Pae, actually taking a step back as Jack invited himself into our ranks, “you’ve yet to deteriorate from the unstable magic that sustains you.”
“Perhaps because the magic that sustains me is not unstable,” argued Jack.
“Exactly my thought,” said Pae. “So I’ll ask again. Who. Is. She?”
“Pae should join our meeting,” offered Jack.
“Meeting?” I asked.
“Like hell,” snarled Rye with an uncharacteristic show of temper.
“He’s going to find out eventually,” said Nick. “If that is, he doesn’t already suspect.”
Pae scrunched his nose at this, eyes flicking from me to Nick and back again.
“You’re a witch,” said Pae. “Only those with fairy blood can be witches. But you…there’s more Fae to you than human, I’d wager.”
“Then you’d wager wrong,” said Rye.
“Pae is taking over in the North,” I said, interrupting. “Am I correct? That’s where you granted him territory, Nick, yes?”
“It is,” replied Nick. “The land is wild enough not to be widely inhabited. Pae and his fellow demons will occupy that quadrant and, provided we win this war, Pae will rule as the fourth King of Oz.”
“Then he has a right to know,” I said, turning these words back to Rye.
“This is suicide.” Rye’s eyes cut to mine, angry and simultaneously…pleading.
I had to swallow against my shock. Because…he hadn’t argued with me. That was, he hadn’t forbidden my suggestion or dismissed me. Could it be instead that he was…deferring? That would imply he’d meant his oath to me. Was he now regretting his vow?
More importantly, would I regret later not listening to him?
“I want Pae present for the meeting,” I said.
“And if he’s playing both sides,” replied Rye, “if he plans to sell us out to Langwidere, she will be armed with whatever knowledge he gains in that meeting. Already, he knows too much. And who’s to say he wasn’t the one who tipped the Nomes off to our location in the Silver Mountains? Or that he won’t, when the moment suits him, unleash West who is currently bound only by his magic?”
I returned my gaze to Pae, eyes tracing that face. After several beats, Pae at last spoke, answering my unuttered question. “Nothing I can say will convince you I am an ally. But I hope the things I’ve done might speak for me.”
“And you’ve done much,” snarled Rye. “Quite a bit that can never be undone.”
“Tip knows what happened,” droned Pae. “She may be the only one who does.”
“Stop,” I said.
If Nick learned of the particulars surrounding Dorothy’s bond with Pae, who was to say he wouldn’t declare war against Pae and the demons, too?
Maybe Rye was right about Pae—that he was only in league with us so that he could betray us later. At the same time, leaving him out of this meeting we were apparently all heading into or reneging on Nick’s promise would undoubtedly create another enemy. Surely, Pae would retaliate by siding with Langwidere and the Nome King, or perhaps he would simply sit the war out and wait to see who won before making his next move.
There was no denying Pae was a wild card. But wasn’t it better to have that card in our deck?
“Where is Dorothy?” I asked. Because her name seemed to be a trigger word for everyone in our present company except Jack. Oddly, though, he was the one to answer.
“She’s with Grip, waiting for us in Nick’s study,” Jack said. “I asked her to look over some texts I smuggled out of the Emerald City.”
So, she was to be included in this meeting as well. A meeting that would apparently—at least partially—focus on me and my true identity.
This should be interesting…
“Then we should head there now,” said Nick, who brushed past me and Rye, heading for the door. After one last curious and squinty-eyed glance toward me, Pae followed.
Rye pivoted next, leaving me to glance after him. I almost followed before Jack’s voice sounded once again.
“Wait,” he said, the word just loud enough to echo.
Everyone turned back, questions written on their faces.
“I want to spar, too,” said Jack. “Now. With Rye.”