The Man Behind the Curtain
Lacosta
I’ve been to the Emerald Palace a dozen times before.
And yet, my heart is racing.
My hands are shaking.
I step into the shadows of the bustling gallery and take in a deep breath.
I can blame my thumping heart and clammy hands on the power rushing through my veins, can’t I? I had to melt two dozen gold bars just to get here, preferring speed to the more practical, economical route of horse and carriage.
Today, I’m on a mission.
Today, I’m going to ask the Wizard of Oz to marry me.
Oh gods. Just thinking about it makes me want to puke.
But if not me, then who?
Things are changing. I can feel it. Alliances need to be made.
I’m not going to wait for someone else to decide which side I’m on.
I made that mistake with the Great and Terrible War.
I’m no fan of Delphine, but she and I got the short straw.
Everyone else had a plan and we were just along for the ride.
Not anymore.
I can see the big picture now and I want to be at the forefront.
And the wizard likes me. I just know it. Last time I was here for an Emerald Gala, he spent fourteen minutes with me, discussing the peculiarities of metals and minerals while he popped grapes into his mouth, his teeth crushing each berry with a pop.
“Gold is my favorite,” I told him. “I get the biggest rush from burning gold.”
“Oh, of course,” he said and nodded, smiling. “And gold looks so good on you.”
Had I blushed? Absolutely.
Receiving a compliment from the Wizard of Oz is like receiving a compliment from the gods themselves.
He has this way of looking at you too, like you are the stars and the earth and everything in between. As if you’re interesting.
No one has ever accused me of being anything other than shallow and vapid. But it’s because I like shiny things. It’s what I burn for power! I was born that way. I’ve explained this so many times and yet, Shallow Lacosta, always chasing gold and silver! they say.
When I was a girl, forced to attend school at the Gillikin Academy, they stripped me of all metal at the door.
I was a witch and the rest of the students were not. I wasn’t allowed access to my power. It was deemed an unfair advantage.
For the next four years, all my clothing buttoned. I wasn’t allowed zippers or snaps. I couldn’t wear jewelry even though everyone else could and did.
I couldn’t even use the shimmer powder on my eyelids like all the other girls.
I was supposed to be a normal girl and yet they reduced me to a desert bush, not an adornment in sight.
I’m tired of people telling me what I can and cannot do.
Which is why I’m here without the blessing of the other Cardinal Witches.
The wizard doesn’t need their permission anyway. He’s the most powerful of all.
The gallery of the Emerald Palace is always a hive of activity. The wizard doesn’t carouse with his subjects very often, and yet he attracts people like moths to light.
I love being in the city. It just feels good. When I visit, I never want to leave.
I do enjoy my cardinal territory, of course. The North and its city, Eisvale, have their place in the Oz landscape. There’s gold in the mountains, silver in the foothills, and a swath of hot springs that bring the Oz elite for leisure and relaxation.
But it’s cold. Sometimes unbearably so. I’m not a woman made for snow. I don’t look good in furs and wool. I much prefer the lighter materials made for summer, or better yet, the Emerald City, where the air is always warm, the breeze always fragrant.
And I do look good in green, if I do say so myself.
Everywhere you look in the Emerald City, there is green.
Those who are employed by the wizard wear livery in his shade with the trim and stitching done in gold. I’m not sure who decided gold would be his accent color but I can’t help but think it’s our destiny.
Green for him, gold for me. If we were to marry, we’d be the most powerful couple in all of Oz, a vision of wealth and elegance.
I deserve this.
When my breathing evens, I step out of the shadows cast by one of the many marble statues that stand around the gallery. All the statues are faceless, but we all know they’re meant to symbolize the wizard. He’s always watching.
Two Emerald City guards notice me right away and bow low.
“Witch of the North. Welcome to the city.”
“Thank you. I know I’m unexpected, but I was hoping to speak to the wizard if he’s available.”
The guards, straightening out of their supplication, share a look.
I’ve miscalculated something. What am I missing? Do I have pepper in my teeth? Tissue on my slippers?
I check my feet just to be safe.
No, nothing amiss.
Dread wells up in my belly.
“What is it?” I finally ask.
“It’s just that…” the man on the left starts, but it’s the woman on the right who cuts in and explains.
“The wizard is currently in audience with the Witch of the South.”
Glinda.
“Oh? How serendipitous!” No, it’s not. No, it’s fucking not! I can’t back out now. I’ve been spotted, which means my presence will be reported to both the wizard and to Glinda and they will wonder why I was here. I have to do something.
I scan the guards’ uniforms.
They’ve got on the wool jackets of the guardsmen and the gold epaulets of higher-ranking officers. But it’s the woman with three gold triangles on her lapel that tells me she’s a lieutenant.
I address her as the higher ranking of the two.
“Could you escort me to them?”
Even though I’ve not been invited, officers aren’t about to deny the request of a Cardinal Witch.
“Of course,” the woman says.
“Right this way,” the man says.
I’m led across the gallery and down the main hall. From past visits, I know this leads to the library, the music room, one of ten drawing rooms, and, at the very end, the wizard’s receiving room.
The room itself is in the back of the palace and overlooks the wizard’s reflection pool and his Emerald Gardens.
As we walk, my mind scrambles.
Do I move forward with my plan? Glinda will find out eventually, even if the wizard turns me down. I know he’s the most powerful of all, but he would be a fool not to see the potential in our union.
But Glinda will try to talk him out of it because Glinda can’t stand the thought of anyone ranking above her, and surely not someone like me.
We pass the library where the double glass doors are thrown open.
The library is two stories with the second floor open to the rest of the room and hemmed in by a wrought-iron railing, the iron twisted into geometric shapes.
I’ve heard there are over a hundred thousand books on the shelves, some of them dating back to the early days when the gods ruled the cardinal directions.
I have no interest in the past though. Only the future.
We keep walking, the hard soles of the guards’ boots clacking on the dark stone floor.
Finally we come to the soaring double doors that lead to the wizard’s receiving room.
My heart rate picks up again.
Calm down, Lacosta. Breathe.
I have been planning for this for months, analyzing the pros and cons, plotting the variables. I’ve practiced my magic, refreshed my etiquette training, and poured over the rituals of the royals.
I am ready for this. I am in control of my emotions.
I am thinking logically. And okay, yes, I do technically have a massive crush on the wizard.
Who wouldn’t? He’s so handsome, it almost hurts to look at him.
He could literally have any man or woman in the four cardinal directions.
But it makes the most sense to align himself with a Cardinal Witch.
With me.
Traveling via magic and the Unseen dimension often makes me hyper and erratic, and I can feel the magic still burning through my veins.
Another deep breath.
I can do this.
I deserve this.
The lieutenant raps twice on the door and waits for a command to enter.
The wizard’s voice rings out from inside. “What is it?”
Together, the guards push the doors in, revealing me in my finest dress, the one made of soft blue fabric with a billowing skirt, the bodice accentuating my breasts, my narrow waist. Diamonds shaped like stars are sewn into the fabric.
I am radiant.
If I’m not meant to be queen, then who is?
“Lacosta.” The way Glinda says my name is the same way she said onion stew the last time we attended an Emerald Gala, which is to say, with disdain, and a little bit of surprise.
“Hello.” I fold my hands in front of me and step forward on the emerald-green carpet that leads from the door to the dais where the wizard’s golden throne sits.
He’s not on it. He’s leaning against it, one foot crossed over the other ankle, a plum, half-eaten, caught between his thumb and forefinger.
I’ve heard mere mortals describe gazing upon the wizard as shocking and slightly uncomfortable.
For that reason, he sometimes takes an audience with a heavy emerald-green curtain pulled closed between him and them so as not to overwhelm them.
When he’s out and about, he’ll use his power to make it hard to look directly at him. He doesn’t like to cause his subjects pain.
But I can withstand the sight of him.
In fact, I don’t want to look away. But I have to. I have to show my reverence to the man I want to be my husband.
Bowing my head, I sink into a low bow. I count to three in my head.
It has to be at least three seconds. That’s what they taught us at the Gillikin Academy.
There were three classes on etiquette. Back then it was in reverence to the royal family, those with magic who needed no source.
Back then they were known as sorceresses, and they ranked just below the gods and above the witches.
But we changed that.
When it’s too quiet in my castle, sometimes I can hear the echo of their screams.
We killed the queen first. I burned so much gold that night, I was nearly maniacal.
Back then, the queen was the most powerful of all, though rumors had started to swirl that the wizard would soon eclipse her.