Dorothy Must Die: The Other Side of the Rainbow Collection: No Place Like Oz, Dorothy Must Die, The Witch Must Burn, The Wizard Returns, The Wicked Will Rise (55 page)

Her name was Ozma, and, the fact is, she was far too small to be much of a leader.

Despite this deficit, the princess was beloved by all, and most of all by her loyal nanny, a flying monkey by the name of Lulu. Lulu doted on Ozma and cared for her fiercely in the absence of parents, governing Oz herself as Ozma’s proxy until the day that the little princess was old enough to take over the job.

Lulu was pragmatic and fair, and although all was not perfect, all should have at least been well. But it was not, for there were other forces at work. Yes, there were witches involved—if there’s something to be involved in, you can be sure that witches will always be lurking nearby. But in this case, the witches were not the real problem. The real problem was a newcomer to the kingdom who had arrived in a strange, colorful flying machine and took to falsely calling himself a wizard.

At first, this false Wizard went unnoticed as he traveled through the wondrous kingdom, exploring its customs, its outlands, and, naturally, its magic. And when he had decided that the time was right, he journeyed to a city made of emeralds to seek an audience with the queen.

It wasn’t until he saw Ozma that he realized she wasn’t much of a queen at all. He had heard she was young, but this, he thought, was ridiculous.

The Wizard could see that Oz was in desperate need of a true leader. With no one minding the shop except a monkey and an infant, he was certain that the kingdom would quickly fall into disrepair. So he considered it his solemn duty—perhaps his destiny?—to save this strange and beautiful fairyland from itself.

Why shouldn’t he be king? he wondered. (Never mind that, in all its history, Oz had only had queens. The Wizard was from a place called America, and to him, a female ruler was a strange and unsettling notion.) Other than the witches, who were too consumed with squabbling with each other to be in charge of anything, no one seemed much interested in leadership, least of all baby Ozma.

So the Wizard hatched a scheme.

Before we get to that scheme, let us return, for a moment, to the witches. There were four of them. Two were evil, two were good (supposedly), and all of them were silly and petty, if fearsome. The wickedest of them, the Western Witch, was also somewhat less silly than the rest, and so it was she with whom the Wizard chose to conspire. Through this conspiracy, the Wizard snatched Princess Ozma from the monkey Lulu, and conscripted the poor beast, along with her winged brothers and sisters, into the Western Witch’s enslavement.

Then, because the Wizard knew that the people of Oz would never accept him as their king so long as they believed the princess was alive, and because the Old Magic that courses through everything in the land would not allow him to kill the princess outright, he sent her north, to the hag Mombi, who had her own motives for taking the baby in. To ensure that Ozma would remain safely hidden, it was decided that old Mombi would enchant the child and keep her far away from the eyes of the world.

And so many years passed. Meanwhile, changes were afoot in Oz, brought on once again by a visitor from the Other Place: not the Wizard, this time, but a plucky and plainspoken farm girl named Dorothy Gale. Within weeks of her arrival, Dorothy made short work of killing two witches and, finally, exposing the Wizard himself and banishing him.

With the Wizard deposed, Dorothy could have held the crown herself. But being of sentimental and truly generous spirit, Dorothy was of the belief that there was No Place Like Home. Thus, she chose to forgo a seat on the emerald throne in order to return to the place your people call Kansas. So again, there was a vacuum of power.

This time it was filled by Dorothy’s companion the Scarecrow—who, even having been blessed by the Wizard with a set of artificial brains, was a few bales short of a haystack and was not much up to the task of kingship. Chaos ran rampant.

During all these goings-on, Tippetarius, the princess formerly known as Ozma, who by now had come to be known simply as Tip, was in Gillikin Country, far away from the tumult and intrigue of the Emerald City.

Tip had grown weary of his lot in life. And so he left Mombi, and set out to seek his fortune.

Remember this: Old Magic runs deep. It finds a way to prevail. Perhaps it was Old Magic that compelled Tip to leave the only home he’d ever known. Either way, Tip wound his way down a strange and treacherous path through Oz, surviving trial after trial, until he finally found himself in the Emerald City.

There, Tip came face-to-face with the sorceress Glinda, who was easily able to see through Mombi’s shoddy enchantment. Tippetarius was revealed as Ozma, and with that, the rightful queen was restored to her throne, and for the first time in many years, Oz was a truly happy place.

But with all the turmoil in the land, Glinda’s hold on power had been dwindling, and she had thought that young and inexperienced Ozma would make a suitable pawn. She was incorrect. And so, being unable to rid herself of the princess, Glinda arranged for Dorothy’s return.

At first, the kingdom was overjoyed to have their beloved heroine back, and Ozma welcomed the girl into the palace. Soon, though, the princess discovered that Dorothy was no longer the bright-eyed, kindhearted girl that she had been on her first voyage. Something had changed. Like the Wizard before her, she lusted for power, fame, and, above all, magic. Soon, Ozma decided that it would be better for all if Dorothy returned to Kansas.

This displeased Dorothy greatly. In fact, it drove her into a wild fury. In a fit of rage, Dorothy—who had great power but little experience with magic—cast a wild and unpredictable spell on Ozma that left the princess in the dim-witted state in which she can now be found. And Dorothy got the thing that she had come to desire most: Oz.

Which, of course, brings us to the moment in Oz’s history in which you find yourself, save for one final detail that very few people know, including Dorothy herself. And this is where it gets weird:

When Mombi transformed the baby Ozma into Tippetarius, she was out of her depth. Remember this was many years ago. Mombi was a bit second-rate as a spell caster in those days, and not even skilled enough to call herself a true witch. She had meant to simply disguise Ozma’s physical form. Instead, in creating Tip, she split Ozma’s soul. Tippetarius was not just a new name for a made-over Ozma. He was an entirely different person, with his own thoughts, feelings, and personality. And although Dorothy’s spell had erased Ozma’s mind—or, at least, turned it off—it had not erased Tip’s.

Which is why, in certain moments, Tip, who had been in Ozma somewhere, all along, was able to emerge, both in body and in spirit. In those moments, Tip was able to carve out a certain kind of half-life for himself. Now that he finally knew who he was, he was able to understand everything that he wasn’t—everything that had been taken away from him, and everything that he had never been allowed to be.

He no longer felt like Tip. So he decided to call himself Pete.

With that, Pete looked up at me, his dark, messy hair falling in front of his eyes, a self-conscious half smile on his lips. In that moment, he looked vulnerable and unsure of himself. I wanted to get up and give him a hug, or something, but I wasn’t sure if that would be weird. I had a million things I wanted to ask him—my head was spinning with them—but it seemed like now wasn’t the right time. So I didn’t say anything for a minute.

And then, when the silence just started being awkward, I said, “Let’s go for a walk. I could use some air, I think.”

Pete looked relieved. “You think
you
could use some fresh air. Think about
me
,” he laughed. “I’ve been cooped up in a teeny
tiny little corner of a fairy princess’s brain for god knows how long.” He paused. “How long
have
I been cooped up in there, this time?”

“Not that long, actually,” I said. “Just like a couple of days. But it felt like a lot longer.”

“Well, it’s Oz,” he said. “The whole concept of time lost its meaning ages ago.”

“You’re telling me,” I said. “Now let’s go. I think I know a good spot.” With that, Pete grabbed my hand, hoisted me up, and we headed out into the sun.

It was a perfect day out, and the whole world looked gilded in golden-green. Monkeys were everywhere, out strolling, bounding through the tree branches, and frolicking in the pools under the waterfall, just enjoying the weather.

“Wow,” Pete said, watching them playing. “At least
someone
in Oz is having fun these days.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Lucky them.”

Pete gave me a sly glance. “You know,” he said. “We could take an hour off ourselves. Wanna go for a swim?”

It took me a second to agree, but in the end, it was too tempting to resist. “Sounds like a plan,” I said.

So we made our way across a rope bridge and down a set of wooden stairs to the entrance of the monkey baths. From here, they looked even more impressive—it was like the world’s most exotic water park, complete with a giant waterslide that started at the top pool and spiraled to the bottom in a series of death-defying drops and hairpin turns that made me shudder.

We found a smallish pool that was mostly hidden from sight by leaves but was still sunny enough to be warm. Pete stripped off his shirt and his loose-fitting pants, then jumped into the water in just his undershorts.

A few seconds later, he emerged, grinning. He climbed back up onto the edge of the pool and shook himself off like a dog, flexing every muscle in his white, slender torso. I tried not to stare.

“You have to come in,” he said. “The water’s incredible.”

“I don’t have a bathing suit,” I said. I was suddenly feeling shy.

Pete gave me a
whatever
look. “Who cares? Anyway, can’t you just magic yourself something else?” he asked. “I thought you’d gone all witch now.”

“The Order’s training camp isn’t exactly fashion school,” I said. “If you need me to incinerate someone, though, I’m your girl.” Then I thought of something. “Hey,” I said, with a sly, sidelong glance in his direction, hoping I wasn’t hitting on a touchy subject. “What about
you
? Aren’t you a fairy or whatever?”

Pete grimaced like I’d just insulted him. “Um, no,” he said. Then he caught himself. “I mean, not exactly,” he said, more calmly. He paused and looked at the ground. “Well, maybe, I guess. Maybe technically? But I can’t do magic,” he said. “Not even a simple spell. I don’t really know why. I wish I could.”

This time, when he jumped in, he did it in a huge cannonball, purposely drenching me with the splash. “Come on,” he said.
“I won’t look. I promise. Anyway, I hate to tell you, but I’ve already seen you in your underwear.”

“What? When?”

“Um, try this morning?” Pete said. Then he screwed his face up and started talking in a squeaky voice. “I
have
to find Nox,” he said. “He’s the
only
one I trust.”

It took me a beat to realize that he was mimicking me.

“You heard that?” I asked, my stomach dropping as I realized exactly what he was saying. Trying to remember everything I’d said and done around Ozma with no idea that I’d had an audience beyond one catatonic princess. “What else did you hear?” I asked, not sure I wanted to know the answer.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Not everything. When Ozma’s in charge, things are sort of fuzzy. Sometimes I miss days at a time; other times it’s like I’m seeing through her eyes. But don’t worry—I try to be a gentleman about it. Anyway, now we’re even. You’ve seen me in my underwear, and you know all my secrets. Plus, I don’t care about your crush on Nox. Is it supposed to be surprising? Who can resist an angry, tortured rebel type? Especially when he’s—you know . . . extremely attractive.”

He dove back under the water without waiting for my answer, and I watched his pale figure disappear as he went deeper and deeper below the surface. I was basically dying to go in myself.

Screw it
, I thought. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gone for a real swim. It would be a total waste to pass up the opportunity now. So without thinking about it anymore, I stripped down
to my bra and my leopard print granny panties and jumped in.

The water felt better than I’d imagined was possible. It was cool, but not freezing, and there was something about it that gave my skin a minty tingle. I stayed under as long as I could, just letting it seep into me.

Finally, I had to come up for air, and when I did, Pete was waiting. He grabbed me around my waist and lifted me into his arms, both of us laughing, then tossed me across the pool.

“You suck!” I shouted at him after I recovered myself. He was still laughing, but then his laughing stopped and his smile turned into something more serious. “I’ll tell you one other thing I saw,” he said. His tone wasn’t mean, just concerned or something. “I saw you fighting the Lion. I’m glad you did what you did, but . . .”

He didn’t seem to be able to put it into words. But he didn’t have to. I’d been trying to put it out of my mind ever since it had happened.

“I know,” was all I said.

He wasn’t going to let it go quite that easily. “It’s just like . . . Dorothy was good once upon a time, too, you know? Not just good. She was the
best
. Until the magic got ahold of her.”

“I know,” I said. He didn’t look away. “I know,” I repeated.

“You know what that means, right?”