Chapter 21

Twenty-One

The two green-painted guards outside of Dorothy's cold-store cell were distinctly less talkative and a whole lot less friendly than Myrsina. Dorothy had asked for water on three separate occasions, only to be told that they were not servants, and she could either shut her mouth or lick the walls if she was that desperate.

At least her legs finally felt like her legs again, but she was unsure if her emotions were ever going to find a peaceful baseline again, after the whole ordeal with the seemingly infinite wands. Being in Oz had at times felt ghost-train thrilling and other times swing-carousel exciting, but for the most part, it had felt like a grand adventure.

The torment she had just been put through had shattered her rose-colored glasses, stomping them into the dirt.

And the other torment, the one of helpless, endless hours in the cold, lifeless room, with nothing but memories of the witch's attempts to get the shoes off her— and the ever-persistent threat made against Nick—was becoming its own kind of torture. A different, more dangerous brand of silent treatment, where panicked questions on a loop were her only company. In fact, she was pretty sure she was losing her mind, if it hadn't seeped out of her ears already.

Would her friends be able to save her? Were they even coming to try? Could they even try? Was she going to spend the next six months of her life frozen and abandoned until the dead of winter when Zolesha could remove the shoes?

The thought of "dead winter" took Dorothy's mind to another form of dead: the human, mortal kind that would undoubtedly be her fate once the witch got what she wanted.

Still, with nothing but time on her hands, Dorothy had been poring over every tiny detail of her encounters with Zolesha, raking through memories and scenes with a fine-tooth comb. Her mind consistently went back to one particular moment, like a magnet she couldn't pull away from.

I wish these guards weren't in here. I'd do it myself, Dorothy had said, and Zolesha's beetle-black eyes had flicked down to Dorothy's feet. Dorothy had thought the witch was impressed that she had managed to get back on her feet, but after countless replays of the moment, she saw new nuances. And, as Zolesha herself had said, nuances were key.

The Wicked Witch hadn't been impressed—she'd tensed up. Subtly, yes, but she'd definitely tensed. And those black eyes had been wary, not amused. Frightened, almost, just for a fleeting second.

Add to that the words out of Dorothy's mouth beneath the willow tree, after tedious hours of waiting for her windy ride, when she'd finally and very suddenly been flung back to Oz from Kansas, and that missing piece was tentatively jiggling into place.

What if…?

Dorothy leaned against the wall and pretzeled her leg to get one of the shoes up onto her knee, and as silly as it felt to do, she rubbed the silver side of the sequined shoe as if it were a magic lamp from Aladdin.

"I wish," she said, too cold to be embarrassed for long, "that I was away from the castle and standing next to Nick."

Dorothy closed her eyes, waiting for some telltale magic, some gust of wind, some fireworks, some otherworldly being to appear and offer her three wishes and a complex list of rules. Nothing happened.

"I wish," she mumbled, feeling twice as stupid, "I had better ideas than that." She shook her head in chagrin and put her foot down.

Oddly, it was nice to have an emotion other than fear to be distracted by. But before she could enjoy it for longer than a moment, a disruption outside her cell door caught her attention.

Raised voices and a familiarly furious bark brought her to the bars of the small face door, left open by the guard who told her to lick the walls if she was thirsty.

The two guards were now standing in the center of the hallway, halfway down to where it branched off to the left and right. They were advancing on Toto, who stood proud and angry just out of their reach, tail wagging, a wicked glint in his eyes. They lurched forward to grab him, and he danced away again, barking the entire time.

If Toto was here, that meant…

The guards made it to the end of the hall, pursuing her littlest friend, and Toto skittered away on the dark stone floor, having the time of his life with each fumbling lunge they made to snare him. "Chase" was his favorite game behind "fetch," but no one ever wanted to play the former with him in case it led to bad habits, so he was making the most of it now. With more yaps and leaps and daring dives, and more annoyed calls of alarm from the soldiers, all three rounded the corner and out of Dorothy's line of sight.

She white-knuckle gripped the bars of the cell window as she called out. "Toto, come here!"

The little dog Tokyo-drifted back around the corner, head held high and his tail wagging proudly. Breaking into a sprint, struggling to get off the mark thanks to the slippery floor, he barreled toward the door and came to an abrupt halt. Sinking onto his haunches, tongue out, he peered up at her, tail sweeping the floor, as if to say, Open up, then, Mama!

Dorothy half expected the guards to come back around the corner in hot pursuit. So, it was a little surprising to see Lional stalk into view instead, dusting off his paws, his royal-purple outfit and regal countenance fitting the aesthetic of the brightly lit castle hall around him.

"Boy, am I glad to see you!" Dorothy exclaimed, trying very hard not to cry.

"And I am equally glad to see you unharmed," Lional replied, frowning. "Though, in truth, I cannot see much of you. Let us remedy that."

Toto swung around in excited circles, play-growling and yipping with each rotation. Lional looked very seriously down at him, then back up at Dorothy.

"Toto says he is happy as well. Overjoyed, in fact, as you can undoubtedly see," Lional informed her as if he could actually understand her furry companion.

"What happened to the guards?" Dorothy asked.

"They have been detained in a broom closet," Lional answered.

"How'd you get them in a broom closet?"

Lional cleared his throat. "With Toto's help of course. I did not want to harm them, after all, but I do not consider it deliberate harm if they happened to run blindly into my outstretched arms and fall of their own foolish volition."

"You clotheslined them?" Dorothy's eyes bugged.

"I do not know what that means." Lional adjusted his weathered cravat. "But I do not think the door will hold them forever, so we should vacate as quickly as possible."

"Did you get the keys off of them?" Dorothy asked, stepping back from the door.

"They shan't be needed. Locks on these doors have always been easy to pick. I could do it even when I was a child, without the advantage of feline claws. Give me a moment." Lional's attention turned toward releasing the door, a quiet scraping and scratching sound grating on Dorothy's shredded nerves.

She was afraid to even ask, but felt compelled to, nonetheless. "Where's Nick? Straw?"

Something clicked and Lional turned the handle, the heavy iron door squealing in protest on rusted hinges as he opened it for her. Dorothy dodged out into the hallway like a claustrophobe out of an escape room, happy to be free of the torture chamber and to leave it far behind. Physically, at least.

"Nick has charged me with getting you out of the castle," Lional reported. "He is with the scarecrow even now, retrieving the wand that brought you here."

The earlier Dorothy, the one who had not been tormented for at least two nights in that nightmarish root cellar, would have immediately protested the need for the wand, claiming there was no sense risking his life just to get her home, that she would stay in Oz for a while and see how life played out. But the fear of the Wicked Witch had manifested itself enough that Dorothy's tongue stayed silent.

A silly girl who'll soon get homesick. I've seen it all before, Zolesha had said. And she'd been right. Maybe going home was for the best. Dorothy wasn't a hero; she was just a silly girl from Kansas, mixed up in a big ol' magical mess. She realized that now.

"Alas," the prince continued, "we were unable to retrieve the wand that placed its Curse upon me and my people. Still, I agreed with Nick that your safety was our priority." He stopped long enough to begin leading them down the hall. "And when Straw brings out the wand, which I have no doubt our friend Nick will gallantly retrieve from the witch, we will get you back to the Emerald City, and I will attempt to find another way to free my people."

It took Dorothy a moment to realize the part of the plan that was missing.

"You mean, when Straw and Nick come down with the wand, right?" she prompted him.

Lional refused to look at her as they turned the corner and made their way up a flight of stairs, his nose scanning the air.

"When Straw and Nick come down with the wand—that's what you meant, right?" Dorothy repeated.

Lional came to a stop and faced her, unable to look her in the eyes. "I believe it is Nick's intent to exchange himself for your freedom in some way. I meant to keep his secret, for I have only my suspicions and no confirmations, but… my vow is not one of silence, where harm may befall someone."

The words plunged through Dorothy's middle and stripped out every torturous memory of pain and every sliver of doubt, unraveling the silly Kansas girl who wasn't a hero and just wanted her mom—aka, Auntie Em and Uncle Henry. Something primal surged in her, clearing her thoughts. It replaced her own fear with a deeper, more savage fear—the gutting terror of losing somebody she loved, who loved her in return.

Any doubt that Nick did not love her was torn asunder as she realized that he was going to give up everything about himself, even his own life, for her. Auntie Em had been right, not Zolesha. He'd been showing it the whole time, not in words but in action. This moment would be the diamond core of their relationship if she stayed.

It wouldn't matter that he couldn't show his love; he already had. Each cut facet of it was one of the hundreds of small declarations of unspoken love he had made along the way: leading her to the Emerald City in the first place, despite his Curse and the myriad pains and troubles it gave him; gently cleaning the cut she'd gained from the saw-nettle leaves in the Black Forest; walking at her side in the Black Forest, like a gentleman walking closest to the road; carrying her out of the poppy fields and waking her first—she didn't remember the initial part, but he'd told her; wedging himself against crates so she could sleep comfortably; agreeing to go and see a terrible play with her, just because she asked; cutting up his old shirt and spending so many hunched hours desperately trying to bring Straw back to life, while she sobbed and pestered him; always putting himself between her and danger, without hesitation. There were too many to name, almost everything he did a constant gesture of his affection for her.

"He doesn't know his true worth, so there's no way I'm letting him get a raw deal. We're going to go rescue him," Dorothy insisted in a tone that brooked no argument. "We're going to defeat this hag. We're going to find all of our wands, and you guys will be cured, and I will be safe to decide whether I want to stay or go on my own damn time."

"I cannot take you to him. I have given him my oath that I would rescue you," Lional declared. "Nick has made his decision, knowing that he does not have a wand to be cured with anymore. But… I did think you ought to be aware."

Doesn't have a wand to be cured with anymore? Another piece of Zolesha's puzzle slotted into place. That vicious bitch broke Nick's wand. His Curse had become permanent. That was the gift she'd left behind for him.

Undeterred—in fact, doubly determined—Dorothy narrowed her eyes at Lional. "You wouldn't have told me if you didn't think it was a freaking stupid plan. So, to hell with your bro-code oaths. Your no-harm vow takes precedence here. And to hell with Nick giving up. We'll figure out a way to fix him, broken wand or not. Now, where are they?"

Lional hesitated.

She wasn't having any of it.

"Not to exploit your beliefs against you," Dorothy continued, "but you're going to have to carry me out of here gagged and tied. And trust me, there's going to be one heck of a fight beforehand. We can either do that, or you can tell me where they are."

Lional looked both ways down the hallway they'd stopped in. A decision was forming behind his golden eyes, and Dorothy scrambled to think of the right thing to say to weigh the scales in her favor.

Toto took that moment to bite Lional's shin. A play bite, but a bite nonetheless, a low growl rumbling from his throat as he tugged with all his might.

The lionman's powerful leg barely budged, but his back stiffened as if he had just been greatly insulted by the little canine. His feline face bristled in annoyance, whiskers twitching.

"Follow me," the prince growled, and Toto let go, stretching out and wagging his tail in a way that seemed almost… smug.

Lional started them forward again, suspiciously in the same direction they had already been heading. Toto fell in line behind him, looking over his shoulder at Dorothy as he trotted long.

The prince had not said what his ultimate decision was, and he could very well be leading them out of the castle, but Dorothy had to trust in faith and friendship that he was taking her to Nick.

Not faith and friendship in Lional, which, although growing, was still new, but her trust in her most unwavering companion… Toto.