Epilogue

The Wizard's wand testing machine, with the fancy mirrors and the trapdoor in the ceiling, settled the argument once and for all with a sudden whirling of wind that flared up around Dorothy.

Both wands had brought her to Oz.

The test had been quicker this time, as Isaac could forgo all the other devices he had used the first time with East's wand. The trip to the Emerald City, however, had been anything but quick.

Dorothy and her friends had stayed at Wicker Castle for the first few weeks after Zolesha had fled in a coil of red smoke. Bellina had been corresponding with the Wizard, and once he'd gotten the news of Zolesha's defeat, he'd immediately wanted Dorothy to bring the wand to him—and also any other wands Lional and Bellina had already tested.

However, Nick had kept them there for a little longer than even Dorothy would have liked—and the Wizard hated, according to his regular letters—but once he'd explained that he wanted to make sure that Bellina wasn't going to stab Lional to death in his sleep before they left, she'd settled in and enjoyed the long-deserved rest.

When a batch of old servants who had escaped the Wicked Witch the first time came up from the various villages that they'd absconded to, Nick was finally comfortable enough to hit the road to the Emerald City and leave Lional and Bellina to research the thousands of wands that the witch had left behind. Straw had volunteered to stay behind as well, possibly because his mission was finally done, possibly because he was hoping Myrsina would miraculously reform one day. It was hard to tell with the kindhearted scarecrow, but his daily talks with every bit of frost or water or snow he could find seemed to lean his motives in one direction more than the other.

There was, of course, an unspoken fear that none of the wands were the right ones they needed to reverse the Curses. But the prince and his adversarial ally would have to figure that out together, hopefully with no fatalities.

However, there was another unspoken fear that Dorothy had pondered for a while, as Nick had continued to extend their stay at Wicker Castle. His fear that she was going to be sent back to Kansas if they tested the wand, or that Dorothy would choose to return once she discovered that she could. She soothed those concerns with as much tenderness and reassurance as she could give him, but he'd trained himself to hide his true emotions for eight long years, and those weren't lessons he'd readily forget. So, there was no telling how he really felt, but he had been particularly quiet when Isaac had led them up to his testing tower earlier.

Still, it had undeniably been worth the time and trouble to double back to the Emerald City so she would have a concrete answer on the pair of wands. Once the test had ended, the little troupe had moved down to a more comfortable set of chambers in the lower part of the Wizard's castle.

Dorothy sat across from Isaac, who was lounging in a leather recliner with his stockinged feet on the ottoman, his colorful patchwork socks bright and loud against the warm dark colors of the room. The shelves were full of magical curiosities and medieval-looking implements and décor, adding to the vibe the Wizard was clearly going for.

Jellia, his daughter-like servant, hovered near the doorway, eagerly waiting to assist. Toto lay on his back, across the toes of her feet, once again wanting the belly rubs that only Jellia seemed to know how to do. And Dorothy tried her best not to be jealous. After all, Toto had been faced with a few closed doors lately, scratching at the wood in protest, but there were some things a best friend didn't need to see.

Nick sat on the large couch next to Dorothy, relaxing in simple brown cotton britches and a lighter tan buttonless jerkin, a flowy shirt underneath. She loved him in that flowy shirt, content to feed her fairytale, swashbuckling fantasies.

"So, what's the next step?" Nick asked Isaac, reaching over the stuffed arm of the sofa and grabbing a tray of sweets that Jellia had magically appeared with moments earlier. Not magically as in Blesses and Curses, but the other, more mundane magic, of someone who seemed to know exactly what to bring at exactly the right time.

Nick offered the tray to Dorothy who picked a pink-and-yellow swirled bit of taffy—and then instantly regretted it as it glued her mouth together in lip-smacking chomps—as it kept her from teasing Nick about his ravenous sweet tooth. It was acutely present when he was nervous. Before they'd snuggled down together on that first night at the castle, he'd devoured an entire tray of old chocolates before he'd mustered the courage to come within ten paces of the bed. His kisses had tasted like hot cocoa, sugary and so delicious she couldn't help but crave more.

"I'd say the next step is to get someone who can actually use wands to come help," Isaac said, shooting a quick glance toward Jellia.

"You think we should reach out to Glinda?" the young servant lady asked.

"Probably for the best," he answered. "We'll send her a summons as soon as we're done here."

"Do… ge old o' 'er," Dorothy tried to say.

"Do you have a way to get a hold of her?" Nick said, translating Dorothy's taffy-locked-teeth question.

The Wizard shifted uncomfortably in his seat, rubbing his feet together as if he had been asked something a little too private.

"Just as I got a hold of you," he said. "I can send her a letter via mouse mail. She'll respond or not, as she sees fit."

There's history there, Dorothy mused, but then again, there seems to be some kind of history among all of them. I suppose when you run in magical circles, you're bound to ricochet off the same people all the time.

A chime rang out overhead, vibrating through the brick and wood and emerald of the Wizard's palace.

Isaac glanced at Jellia, who nodded and bent over Toto.

"Excuse me, Toto, my dear, but I must go answer the door."

Toto jumped to his feet, barked a couple of times, and looked at Dorothy to see if she would allow it. Now that she knew Toto could actually talk in the land of Oz—even if only Lional understood him—his attempts to communicate with her through body language had a whole new meaning. Right now, he was trying to point his wildly wagging tail in Jellia's direction.

"Go ahead," Dorothy said. "You're a big boy. Do what you want."

Toto happily trotted after Jellia, the two disappearing down the hallway.

Nick offered Dorothy another sweet off the tray with a kid-like grin on his face, and a slight staining of purple near the corner of his mouth from the marshmallow-like bits of candy called "Plumps" that he seemed overly fond of.

Dorothy turned to him and shook her head. She actually wanted to be able to talk through the rest of the conversation. Dorothy hooked her thumbs around the shoulder straps of her overalls just like her uncle used to do to try and keep his hands out of the sweeties jar.

"Suit yourself." Nick's reply was garbled through a mouthful of candy, and he gave a toothy grin covered in four Oz-only versions of purple, pink, green, and yellow.

As silly as he looked, she didn't feel a bit silly for wanting to kiss him at that moment.

"Actually, now that I'm thinking about it," Isaac responded as he took in her posture and the blue-jeans overalls, "I could put you in touch with several of the cloth weavers and tailors here in town and get you some new outfits. It's the least that I can do for a fellow Earthian."

Dorothy raised an eyebrow, not at the offer she was going to absolutely take him up on, but at the word "Earthian." She waited for the nudge, nudge, wink, wink of the joke, but it didn't come. Shrugging it off as a wizardly eccentricity, she did pause to wonder what age he was when he got swept into Oz.

"Will they be able to make sure Dorothy has overalls like these?" Nick asked with a sneaky smile. "Can't get enough of them. I might even ask for a pair myself. The sheer number of pockets is fantastic."

She couldn't have loved him more than she did in that moment. Nick wanted her to have new things, but not be something she wasn't. For her to continue to be and do whatever made her happy, and have the things she wanted to wear, even if they hadn't reached the fashion pages of Ozian Vogue yet.

Dorothy leaned into Nick, and he slipped his arm up on the back of the couch behind her, his hand curving around her upper arm. The indent of him was the perfect shape for her, not just his body and hers, but their personalities as well.

"Just maybe something with… something other than blue, maybe," Nick added.

"But not green," Dorothy put in. "I can understand the city's fascination with it, but it never looks good on me. Ask my mother." She put on a perfect impression of her mother's voice. "Dotty, my god, you look like a… like a… like a lime in cucumber drag!"

"Fair enough," Isaac said, once again missing the joke. "However, I was kind of hoping we could discuss something else before I send a message off to Glinda."

"And that is?" Nick asked.

The Wizard leaned forward, taking his feet off the ottoman, and clasped his hands together. "I'm going to do my best to help Bellina figure out which of the wands she needs, but it's important to me that once they start figuring out which wands it can't be, that they send those rejected wands here. I appreciate that you brought some, but perhaps we can arrange for… larger and more regular transport."

"You know, I wanted to ask you about that," Dorothy said. "You're not able to cast Curses or Blessings or other magical things, right?"

It obviously pained him to admit it, but he said, "Right. I can't do it." There was a pause, as if he might have added something more about wands, but he continued in a different direction. "My sole aim is to ensure that they stay out of Zolesha's hands, if you understand my meaning. This is the first time in quite a while we don't have a Wicked Witch in control of a territory. But then again, that being said, rumor has it that she has taken over her sister's castle. Luckily, one of my best agents, Sir Emeric, was nearby when East was"—he cast Dorothy an apologetic look—"dispensed with, all those weeks ago, and a raid of the castle cleared it of its wand collection."

Isaac shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "It'll only be a matter of time before she can resupply, but for now, the Wicked Witch is out of the way. In fact…" He sat up straighter. "I think the person who just arrived might be that very agent with a cart full of those wands. He's scheduled to come in today. Yes, let's arrange for Sir Emeric to make a regular collection from Wicker Castle. So, I'll check on Jellia and send a message to Glinda, letting her know?—"

Isaac did not get to finish the sentence.

Glinda's golden voice chimed into the room, even as she walked through the doorway with Jellia in front of her. "Oh? Send me a message about what?"

She smiled warmly at Dorothy and Nick, her flawless summer skin and perfect hair made even richer in the warm lights of the Wizard's study.

Isaac stumbled to his feet and adjusted his robe, hopelessly trying to slick down a piece of hair that would not be told what to do.

"I present Glinda the Good," Jellia announced a little belatedly. "The witch of the southern realm of Quadling Country, doer of Blessings and Good magic, mistress of the nine enchantments, wand Turner and Crafter…" The young servant eyed the witch for a second when she announced the word Turner, but she finished smoothly enough, "Here to see you on a quest to find Dorothy and companions."

Jellia bowed once and stepped to the side.

"Yes, yes," Isaac said, finally done with the fidgety straightening of his clothes. "You're looking well, of course," he stated, a little too formally, to Glinda.

She curtsied and stood straight, her magnificent crystal crown glittering as she moved.

Dorothy and Nick hopped up off the couch in unison. Nick's sweets tray banged loudly as he fumbled it onto the table next to him, and he sheepishly grinned at Dorothy as he wiped his hands on the front of his pants. They were obviously too sticky to offer a handshake to the newly arrived witch, so he offered her a smile instead, which was little better in the candy-remnant stakes.

"I see," Glinda said and then smiled. "The Curse is gone. Bravo."

Nick smiled wider, grabbed Dorothy by the shoulders, and squeezed her against him in happiness. "All thanks to Dorothy," he replied. His warm hands held on to her as if she were the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, and any possible jealousy Dorothy might have been courting at seeing his reverence of the Good Witch disappeared instantly.

"How in the world did you accomplish it?" the Good Witch asked. "Were you able to get the wands back? I would have assumed you would have come to talk to me, though I am only marginally disappointed not to have been there for the grand reveal." Her sweet laughter tinkled around the room.

"When you gave me those silver shoes, they turned out to be just the answer," Dorothy replied eagerly. "Which brings up something I'm a little peeved about. Why didn't you tell me they were wishing shoes? You could have saved us a whole lot of time." Not that she was overly angry about it, merely annoyed. It was hard to be angry with the way it had worked out in the end. If she had known they were wishing shoes from the off, the adventure would have been over before it had started, and she wouldn't have Nick's loving arms locked around her at that very moment.

There was a long pause as Glinda's face screwed up into a look straddling the border between confusion and some irritation of her own.

"What are you talking about? Wishing what?" Glinda finally asked, the look of her bewilderment on her face compounded by the tone of disbelief in her voice. "They were wishing regalia?"

"I thought you knew and just forgot to tell me or something," Dorothy said, genuinely flabbergasted. "I was a little angry, like I said, that you didn't tell me. You didn't know?"

"No," Glinda said, lips pursing. She tapped her crystal shoes against the wood floor in rapid little tinks, as if someone was dropping thumbtacks.

Everyone else in the room exchanged glances. Dorothy had wondered what it would take to piss off a Good Witch, and it seemed she had her answer.

"You know the mayor here owns a wedding dress that's a wishing garment," Isaac put into the quiet room, stealing glances at Glinda as he spoke. "They say it has a wish left on it, and his son's future bride gets to use it."

The Good Witch shot him a look. He was not being as helpful as he thought he was.

Only when the silence stretched out a little too long did Dorothy speak again. "I assume the shoes went back to you, right? Those bubbles of yours grabbed them and took them off my feet." She mustered an anxious laugh. "Let me tell you, I was relieved. Wasn't I, Nick?"

He nodded stiffly.

"Yes, they came back to me," Glinda answered with a sigh, attempting to physically relax, shaking her quivering shoulders as if she were trying to shake off shocking news. "When the silver shoes arrived back to me and were gray and dull, I thought the worst. I knew they were no longer magical, but I assumed Zolesha had killed you in her attempt to claim them for herself, and my magic had somehow canceled the shoe's inheritance enchantments. I did not know what they were, only that she wanted them badly enough that I could not let her have them."

"I guess we can't feel too bad," Nick said, "since you didn't know."

"So," Glinda said, with a hint of a grimace, "I assume the third wish was used, then? Seeing as they were lacking their magic and all of you are alive, that is the only remaining reason."

"Oh, three wishes," Dorothy said. "Well, that makes sense. If my math is correct, I… uh… accidentally used all three. One on purpose."

Glinda sighed like a disappointed schoolteacher who'd just had to send her star pupil to the principal's office. "Well, it cannot be undone. As you said, Nick, we cannot feel too bad about it."

Dorothy swallowed. "If the witches knew, I wonder why the east one didn't use them in her fight against you?"

"That's easy enough to explain," the Wizard cut in. "When the mice make vestments with wishes in them, they only grant wishes that do not cause harm."

"Well, couldn't she have wished for other things?" Dorothy asked, thinking as she spoke. "A shotgun by itself doesn't cause harm, but fire it at an old can of beans and you've got yourself something to water your cabbages with."

Glinda fielded this question. "I don't know what a shotgun is, but I understand your meaning, and it's doubtful. Most Wicked Witches, when they truly go down that path, pour their goodness into some form of vessel to keep it from disrupting their magic. But in doing so, all that's left are Wicked thoughts and deeds. It's hard to not ask for something hurtful when all you want to do is hurt others."

Zolesha called her a "drain." Having met Myrsina, Dorothy understood that concept easily enough. She glanced at Nick. A frown had settled onto his face. Although she was saddened to see it there at first, she was glad that he could show it. That he could have empathy for the young lady who had done nothing but try to help.

Dorothy threw another question into the room before her own sense of sorrow could swallow her up. "Did the arrival of the shoes let you know I was here, or is this just a happy coincidence?"

Glinda thoughtfully tapped her fingers against the full quiver of wands on her right hip. "More of the latter, truth be told. I didn't know you were here specifically, but I came to check here first and talk to the Wizard to see if you even arrived to the city when I first sent you off from that little village. My rest and recovery took a lot longer than I had initially hoped, but it's terribly hard to do only Good Deeds. There are only so many people I can help at any given time."

"Understandable." Isaac leaned over, bending unnaturally at the waist. "I imagine that's why it's so hard to be one of the Good Witches. You ladies have to take everything upon yourselves to drive your magic. Do you ever have time to just… relax?"

For a moment, Dorothy recalled the torture when she was under the Wicked Witch's control, but she pushed it out as fast as it had come before it tried to take root again.

Another thought followed it: If the Wicked Witch had a Myrsina-like vessel to pour her goodness into, did Glinda have the same but only for her Wicked thoughts? It seemed unlikely, as the very act of putting your bad emotions into someone else would be a Wicked thing to start with. Unless there were other vessels, non-sentient ones. Dorothy shivered at the idea of a Pandora's box of evil somewhere, hidden away by the powerful witch.

In fact, it made her wonder how thin the line might be between Wicked and Good witches. Had any ever started one way and turned the other? Had any Good Witches just gotten sick of being Good? Had any Wicked Witches gotten sick of being bad?

"But," Glinda said, snapping Dorothy's attention away from her Ozian rabbit hole, "I'm delighted to see you here, in one hearty piece. Both of you. And, of course, upon my arrival, I found out the news that the Wicked Witch of the West was ousted from Wicker Castle." She gestured to Jellia, who was gazing at Glinda like she was a celebrity. "This young lady was kind enough to inform me that a contingent of your troupe was here, so I expected to see some, if not all, of you."

Nick nodded. "Lional's back at his castle with Straw and Bellina, sorting out the Curse wands. Or trying to. I imagine he'll be reaching out to you soon to see if there's any way to speed up the sorting."

"And I will gladly help," Glinda said. "Now, why don't we sit, and you can fill me in on the whole story, while I have some of these delicious Plumps and perhaps a piece or two of bluebell taffy?"

Nick grabbed the plate and offered it to her. Glinda daintily pulled one of the marshmallow-esque treats and smiled over to the Wizard, whose cheeks darkened in response.

There's definitely some History there, with a capital H. Dorothy hid a smile, watching Isaac flounder as he waggled a hand in Jellia's direction.

"I don't suppose you could rustle up a chair for our new arrival?" he said.

She gleefully bounced on her heels, dislodging Toto, who had once again splayed himself across her feet, and bounded from the room.

"I swear," Glinda said, "that young lady adores helping. Has she been tested for magic?"

The Wizard's expression became tense as he answered, "Yes. She didn't have any talent."

Glinda took it at face value with a delicate shrug and a soft "no matter," but Dorothy wondered if that was the real answer. Either Isaac was bitterly disappointed that Jellia had no magic ability, or he was hiding something. Of course, there was a third option—he was just strange, and his face often didn't match his words.

It seemed impolite to sit back down with Glinda standing. So, Dorothy leaned into Nick and let his firmness and stoic strength support her. He started rubbing gentle circles on her lower back, grounding her at the same time it conjured a static-electric prickle up her spine. Like Toto, she wanted to lay at his feet and let him "scratch her belly" in the way she liked, the way only he could do. But instead, she offered a friendly olive branch to the Wizard.

"I assume you were a Reds fan?" she asked Isaac. It was a trick Uncle Henry had taught her—the best way to break up an awkward moment for a guy was to ask about some sports.

Isaac hesitated. "I'm not a big fan of football."

"You mean baseball."

"Yes. Sorry. I'm not a big fan of baseball."

It was one error past excusing.

"Not a problem. I'm not a fan either. I just go to the games for the corn on the cob, anyway. I hate how it makes your teeth purple, but it's so delicious," Dorothy lied, testing him.

"I can have the chef here in the tower make you some," the Wizard replied. "It's blue instead of purple like back home, but it tastes as good. Better, I think."

Dorothy stared at him, waiting until he looked her dead in the eyes before letting the guillotine fall. "Have you actually been to Earth, Isaac?"

His eyes flicked to Glinda, then back to Dorothy, then to Glinda again.

"Of course, I was born and raised there. Like I said, I'm from Cleveland."

"No," Dorothy stretched out the word, "you said you were from Cincinnati. In fact, I think you said you were from Cincinnati, in the northern part of Ohio. I don't really one hundred percent remember, but I'm pretty sure Cincinnati is on the Ohio River. And I know enough about my geography to know that particular river does not go through Cleveland."

The Wizard took a step back, almost falling into his leather armchair. "Well, it's just… you'll have to forgive me, I've been away so long that things get… muddled, and I?—"

"Alright, enough," Dorothy stopped him from rambling on. "Answer me this very simple question, Ohio guy. What's the capital of your state?"

"Cleveland?" he ask-answered.

Dorothy crossed her arms and made a loud buzzer sound, imagining a big cross appearing over his face and his phony backstory. Nick let go of her, his own posture becoming less friendly to the Wizard.

"What the heck is going on here?" she growled, letting a little Kansas out. "You sure ain't from Earth. Why are you claiming to be?"

"Well…" he admitted everything in a single pause, his eyes furiously bouncing back and forth between Dorothy and Glinda. "It's just, listen… you really can't tell anyone."

Dorothy found it amusing to watch him sweating and squirming through his lies and his clothes, but Glinda apparently did not.

"Excuse me!" Glinda snapped. "You're not from Earth?"

"Glinda, I know how this?—"

"Wait!" she said. "Don't you dare speak. Not a word."

If her name hadn't been Glinda the Good Witch, Dorothy would have worried she was going to strangle the man to death right in front of them and pour the memory into her Wicked keepsake box.

Glinda's face was the darkest shade of red that Dorothy had ever seen on someone with such a springtime complexion. She was either going to have an aneurysm, or her head was going to split open like the aftermath of a horror-movie creature feature.

"You are not from Earth?" Glinda repeated yet again. She took a step toward the "Wizard," her hand grabbing a fistful of the wands in the quiver on her hip.

"Hold on!" Nick said, coming around the large oval coffee table dominating the center of the room. He put himself between Glinda and Isaac. "I think we need to calm down for a second."

"We aren't the ones who are angry.I am the one who is. Although, you should be angry too, Nick. Everyone should be angry. No one is allowed the privilege of being the Wizard of Oz unless they are from Earth. That is a hard and fast rule. There is a very specific reason for it, and what is worse, you know it!" Glinda stepped on her tiptoes to glare over Nick's shoulder at the charlatan.

"Hold on for a second," Nick suggested. "Take a breath. I don't want anyone turning green on us."

The worried tone worked. Glinda deflated a little, taking her hand off the wands at her side. "It's okay." She breathed in a massive breath and sighed it out again, her face returning to a much more lambs-and-maypoles color. "It's fine. I'm fine."

There's another sin right there,Dorothy thought. Anger, wrath, and now lying. Hopefully, she wasn't going to see their Good Witch corrupted by the end of the conversation.

Jellia took that moment to arrive, carrying a small vanity chair, probably from her own room, cradled in her arms. She walked into the wall of uncomfortableness dividing the room and put the stool quietly down behind Glinda, who very slowly lowered onto it, crossed her heels, and put her hands daintily in her lap.

"If you three would excuse us for a moment," the Good Witch said, obviously meaning everyone except the "Wizard." "I have some things I need to discuss with Isaac."

Dorothy couldn't help but notice the shift in formality, his title reduced to merely his name. A little shudder ran up her spine, the way it did when the teacher used to yell at the entire class, even though she hadn't done anything wrong.

Nick and Dorothy followed Jellia from the room. The servant girl closed the door behind them and raised an eyebrow. "Well, that was something else. Do you think it'll be safe for them to be in there alone?"

"And we thought we'd left that behind at Wicker," Dorothy said, with a pointed look at Nick before returning her attention to Jellia. "If experience is anything to go by, they'll be fine. Don't worry. I just think there might be something more going on here than just being upset about a title in… the potentially wrong hands."

"Oh," Jellia replied, although it was obvious that the teenage girl didn't really understand what Dorothy was getting at. Or was worried about something other than the romantic tension between the sparring pair.

The trio, plus Toto, walked the semicircular hallway to a flight of stairs, and then down to one of the larger, open chambers.

"Did you enjoy that play I sent you guys to?" Jellia asked.

Nick laughed that new, easy laugh of his. "Not as much as Dorothy did."

Dorothy chuckled. "Let's just say, I've seen the original, and I cried at both, for very different reasons."

"Then you'll be excited to know that my friend has written another one!" Poor Jellia seemed genuinely thrilled.

"Pleasetell me the name," Dorothy asked, as they stopped in the middle of the room with Toto running laps back and forth between Dorothy and the new giver of scratches, Jellia. "A Tragedy of Mistakes? The Mouse Weaver of Menace? Croilus and Tressida? Coriole's Anus?"

"You've heard of that one?! I must let my friend know that they have a fan," Jellia yelped, clapping her hands together. "This one is called King Learnal, and it's going to be excellent."

Dorothy stifled a snort. "It's not about a king with three daughters who may or may not transform into a lion-beast at some point, is it?"

"How do you know that?" Jellia whispered, putting a finger to her lips. "I can write a note to the theater owner. I'm sure he'll let you sit in on one of their dress rehearsals. There's one tonight!"

"I wish I had my pack with me," Dorothy said, still fighting her laughter. "I'd get you a pen and a piece of paper right now."

"Well, I'll be right back." Jellia beamed as she scampered away, and Toto followed without hesitation, no doubt hoping to get a few scratches while she fetched the pen and paper.

Minutes later, Dorothy and Nick were holding each other, sobbing breathlessly at the hilarity of Lional being the muse for the next Shakespeare abomination.

"He's going to… hate this!" Dorothy wheezed. "And I'm going to revel in it. I know I shouldn't, I know it's mean, but… I can't help it!"

Nick wiped his eyes. "Poor Lional."

"Poor Lional," she agreed, coming up for air.

And as she did, seeing that vibrant grin on his face, hearing the rumble of laughter in his chest, feeling it in her own, she couldn't help herself when it came to him either. She grabbed the lapels of that knee-buckling flowy shirt and crushed her lips to his, wanting to capture that smile beyond sight and memory. It widened as she kissed him, her own smile curving broader as he kissed her back.

He tried to pull away to catch his breath, but she pulled him close again, stealing a softer kiss from those lips. His arms slipped around her, fingertips tracing tingling lines up her back, over her hips, along the curve of her waist, both of them forgetting that Jellia could come back at any moment. Then again, she was the kind of person who'd notice, smile to herself, and creep away to give them a moment to themselves.

When he pulled away a second time, Dorothy gasped lightly, as if he'd just taken away her oxygen.

"What was that for?" Nick murmured, his hand sliding up to the nape of her neck, fingertips toying with the loose strands of hair that had come free of her braid.

"For you to have of course," she teased him, feeling his heart race beneath her palm.

"It sure was nice."

"What can I say? I'm a nice person." She stroked the hair above his ear, peering deeply into his eyes. "So nice that I've roped you into seeing yet another one of these plays. Still, at least this means we have plans tonight."

Nick grazed his teeth over his lower lip. "What if I already had plans in mind?"

"There'll be time," she replied silkily, pressing a promise to his lips.

At the sound of footsteps coming back up the hallway beyond the room, she reluctantly pulled away, slipping her hand into his. But he wasn't having any of that, turning her back into his arms, as if they were about to have a dance at that ball they never got to go to.

"I wonder if King Learnal will have me dying in my seat again and getting shushed by everyone, or if it'll be a real tragedy this time—more like the source material in every way," Dorothy pondered aloud. "Nah. If it's anything like the last play, it'll be a bit of both. Quite the comedic tragedy."

"Just like us," Nick joked, starting to sway slightly.

She wrapped her arm around his middle and moved with him, marveling at the former tinman who'd become the sort of man who danced with his love whenever and wherever, all the while smiling that wonderful smile. "Comedic? Tragic?" she said. "Which of us is which?"

"Oh, that's easy," he answered in a mock huff. "I'm the funny one."

"Such a tragedy that you actually believe that," she replied in a deadpan voice as she rested her head against his chest and they began the dance they never got to have—a dance, a love, a cautiously hopeful future that, just a few weeks ago, had seemed impossible.

But this was Oz, and for those who brave the yellow brick road, there was no such word.

Thanks for readingInto a Wicked World. Find the next book here: Under an Emerald Spell, the second book in the A Romance in OZ series.

Come follow Glinda and the Wizard as they go from rivals to lovers in the Emerald City. One part You've Got Mail, one part Cinderella, all parts Oz…