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Authors: Danielle Paige
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hell, until Ozma came back.”
“Where was she that whole time?”
“No one knows,” Ollie said. “She would never talk about it. But she has fairy blood, which meant she had a right to the crown. It’s deep magic—since she was finally of age, no one could do anything to take it away from her.”
“Dorothy did,” I pointed out.
“Not exactly,” Ollie said.
“Ozma was in charge for a long time,” Indigo said. “Things were good with her. The best. The sun rose and set on time. There was magic everywhere. . . .”
“The monkeys flew wherever they wanted while Ozma reigned,” Ollie interjected.
“It was what Oz was supposed to be all along,” Indigo said. “The funny part is that when Dorothy came back, everyone was happy at first. She was a hero, you know. And nothing changed for a while, except that she moved into the palace. She and Ozma became friends. They did everything together. No one even minded when Ozma made her a princess, too. It seemed like she deserved it.”
“And then?”
“Then came the Happiness Decree. After that, we stopped seeing so much of Ozma. It was, like, all Dorothy all the time. Ozma was just . . . gone.”
“You think Dorothy did something to her.”
Indigo nodded. “I don’t know what ,” she said. “But Ozma would never let this happen to Oz. She must have been tricked . . . or . . .”
“Or she’s dead,” Ollie said.
“No!” Indigo nearly shouted. “She can’t be dead. Dorothy’s not powerful enough. No one’s powerful enough. Once Ozma had the crown, nothing could take it away from her. It’s fairy magic—that’s the strongest there is. Nothing can break it. Nothing can kill her.”
Ollie didn’t look so sure. “What if the magic’s gone?” he asked. Indigo didn’t answer him.
The whole time they’d been giving me a primer on Oz’s history—which I still wasn’t sure I understood—we’d been walking, and now we had come to a wide, stagnant river. The water was mossy and still and rotten-smelling, and had a toxic green tint to it. At the muddy bank, a tangle of thick black vines twisted like snakes.
Luckily, we didn’t have to swim through that muck: as it neared the water, the yellow bricks began to ascend, stretching up and out into the air in a meandering path. There was nothing supporting them—no cables or columns or beams—and the whole road swayed and fluttered back and forth like a ribbon in the wind.
I gulped. “Are we supposed to cross that?” I asked. Heights weren’t exactly my favorite thing.
But the height was the least of our problems.
“Monkeys,” Ollie breathed, pointing at the tiny silhouettes that swooped and dove against the newsprint-gray of an endless cloud that hovered just above the road. “They’re patrolling the bridge.”
I laughed nervously. “Time to turn back, I guess.” But I knew we couldn’t. Where would we go? We had seen what there was to see back there. The only direction was straight ahead.
Indigo looked up at the monkeys in thought. “I think we can make it past them,” she said. “I know a spell that might work.”
“Wait,” I said. “You can do magic? You didn’t tell me that.”
Indigo cocked her head and raised her eyebrows like she was offended. “My grandmother was a sorceress,” she said. “She may not have been as powerful as Glinda, but she taught me a thing or two. She would have taught me more, if Dorothy hadn’t banned it. But the Winged Ones are more susceptible to magic than almost anyone. I think a misdirection charm will get us past them.”
She closed her eyes and raised her hands, moving her fingers in front of her in rapid, fluttery movements. I looked down at myself, waiting to see what would happen—was I going to turn invisible or something? But nothing changed.
After a minute, Indigo opened her eyes. “I think we’re good to go,” she said. “Just don’t talk. Don’t do anything that will attract attention.”
“I don’t think it
“Where was she that whole time?”
“No one knows,” Ollie said. “She would never talk about it. But she has fairy blood, which meant she had a right to the crown. It’s deep magic—since she was finally of age, no one could do anything to take it away from her.”
“Dorothy did,” I pointed out.
“Not exactly,” Ollie said.
“Ozma was in charge for a long time,” Indigo said. “Things were good with her. The best. The sun rose and set on time. There was magic everywhere. . . .”
“The monkeys flew wherever they wanted while Ozma reigned,” Ollie interjected.
“It was what Oz was supposed to be all along,” Indigo said. “The funny part is that when Dorothy came back, everyone was happy at first. She was a hero, you know. And nothing changed for a while, except that she moved into the palace. She and Ozma became friends. They did everything together. No one even minded when Ozma made her a princess, too. It seemed like she deserved it.”
“And then?”
“Then came the Happiness Decree. After that, we stopped seeing so much of Ozma. It was, like, all Dorothy all the time. Ozma was just . . . gone.”
“You think Dorothy did something to her.”
Indigo nodded. “I don’t know what ,” she said. “But Ozma would never let this happen to Oz. She must have been tricked . . . or . . .”
“Or she’s dead,” Ollie said.
“No!” Indigo nearly shouted. “She can’t be dead. Dorothy’s not powerful enough. No one’s powerful enough. Once Ozma had the crown, nothing could take it away from her. It’s fairy magic—that’s the strongest there is. Nothing can break it. Nothing can kill her.”
Ollie didn’t look so sure. “What if the magic’s gone?” he asked. Indigo didn’t answer him.
The whole time they’d been giving me a primer on Oz’s history—which I still wasn’t sure I understood—we’d been walking, and now we had come to a wide, stagnant river. The water was mossy and still and rotten-smelling, and had a toxic green tint to it. At the muddy bank, a tangle of thick black vines twisted like snakes.
Luckily, we didn’t have to swim through that muck: as it neared the water, the yellow bricks began to ascend, stretching up and out into the air in a meandering path. There was nothing supporting them—no cables or columns or beams—and the whole road swayed and fluttered back and forth like a ribbon in the wind.
I gulped. “Are we supposed to cross that?” I asked. Heights weren’t exactly my favorite thing.
But the height was the least of our problems.
“Monkeys,” Ollie breathed, pointing at the tiny silhouettes that swooped and dove against the newsprint-gray of an endless cloud that hovered just above the road. “They’re patrolling the bridge.”
I laughed nervously. “Time to turn back, I guess.” But I knew we couldn’t. Where would we go? We had seen what there was to see back there. The only direction was straight ahead.
Indigo looked up at the monkeys in thought. “I think we can make it past them,” she said. “I know a spell that might work.”
“Wait,” I said. “You can do magic? You didn’t tell me that.”
Indigo cocked her head and raised her eyebrows like she was offended. “My grandmother was a sorceress,” she said. “She may not have been as powerful as Glinda, but she taught me a thing or two. She would have taught me more, if Dorothy hadn’t banned it. But the Winged Ones are more susceptible to magic than almost anyone. I think a misdirection charm will get us past them.”
She closed her eyes and raised her hands, moving her fingers in front of her in rapid, fluttery movements. I looked down at myself, waiting to see what would happen—was I going to turn invisible or something? But nothing changed.
After a minute, Indigo opened her eyes. “I think we’re good to go,” she said. “Just don’t talk. Don’t do anything that will attract attention.”
“I don’t think it
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