Page 11 of Ozma

Jack pushed off the doorframe, his shoulders dropping as he inched close, closer. She couldn’t tell if he believed her. “Then tell me, pretty blossom, how do you know all this?”

She could give him a partial truth. “Because … because Mombi stole me too.” Her eyes focused on the spot where she’d become Ozma: across from the decaying wooden chair, where a large oval mirror hung on the wall. She locked her gaze on her own image. “Only, I was held in the mirror here all this time.” She pointed to the glass. “Tip had an argument with Mombi and his magic somehow came to life, but before he could use it, she turned him into ash. So, Tip may not have known about me, but I knew everything. After Tip died, Mombi sent me somewhere else, a dark place, and before you ask how I got out, it was because Dorothy returned.” She paused, tears pricking at her eyes. “So that’s why I’m here, to murder Mombi for what she’s done, to Tip, and to me.”

Jack took a step back, rubbing a hand over his mouth and jaw. “I don’t know what to say. Mombi isn’t here—she left when she heard Dorothy had returned.”

Ozma’s eyes widened. “She knows?” Of course she would. Word must have spread like wildfire when Thelia came back to Oz. This wasn’t good. Ozma hadn’t known who Dorothy was when she’d lived in Loland, but she’d learned all about her in the dark place from Reva. “What happened to the barrier?”

“I don’t know. It vanished a few minutes after the bitch left to go to the Wizard.”

Perhaps the witch was growing weaker. Why would Jack stay if he wasn’t trapped inside? But she didn’t ask him. “Has the Wizard been here recently?”

He shook his head. “I haven’t seen him in years and don’t know where he is.”

“I’ll have to find Mombi then.”

Jack arched a brow, scanning her up and down. “Show me your magic.”

“What?” She wrinkled her nose, confused by his sudden change of mood and question.

“Show me”—he stepped forward, lifted a lock of her hair, twirling it around his finger—“how you’re going to defeat Mombi. Because if you’ve watched her from that mirror most of your life, then you’ll know you need to have a pretty damn good amount of magic.”

She closed one eye, squinted the other, and cringed. “Um, I don’t have any at the moment.”

“Let me understand this.” Jack dropped his hand from her hair and shook his head. “You have zero magic and think you can defeat one of the most powerful witches in Oz?”

“Listen,” Ozma said, determined. “I have a blade and I’ve learned how to be sneaky, how to kill someone.” She thought about the Wheeler she’d stabbed through the heart after Reva had struck the rest of the clan dead with her magic. “It wouldn’t be that difficult if I were fast, if Mombi was unaware.”

Jack stared at her for a long moment, studying her face. “I see that hate burning in your eyes, the way it did in Tip’s, the way it does in mine. And I believe you really are Tip’s sister, only because you have the same eyes as him. I would recognize that bright blue anywhere. But, if he were still here, and he knew about you, he wouldn’t want you to do this.”

Before she could reply, Jack scooped her off the floor, making her gasp. He cradled her in his arms as he strode out of the hut, closing the door with his boot.

“What are you doing?” she screeched when she finally found words.

“You’re coming to my place for the night,” he replied with an easy shrug.

“I will not!” She tried to wriggle from his hold. “Not with a … lover there.”

“He left, so it’s just you and me.” Jack stepped over several pumpkins as he walked in the direction of his hut. “If you promise not to run again, I’ll set you down, though.”

“Fine.” She honestly just needed to go somewhere and rest. The day was catching up to her. Not only the day, but the past two years of constantly being on the move and trying not to be killed. Now that she was at the patch, she could relax for a moment, even if nothing was ending up as she’d planned.

Jack lowered her to the ground and she walked beside him, leaving a two-person gap between them until they reached his hut.

Her lids fluttered, the exhaustion washing over her, as she peered at him in front of the door.

He stared at her, a line settling between his brows like he wanted to ask more questions, but he didn’t. “Go inside and get some rest. I have a few things to take care of before heading to the market tomorrow. By the looks of things, you’ll get to join me.”

Ozma didn’t have the energy to argue as she nodded and stepped into Jack’s hut. She didn’t focus on anything around her, just went to his room and scooped up the dagger she’d dropped earlier. She set it on top of his dresser beside an unlit lantern. Even though she wanted to collapse on the bed, she just couldn’t. Not after Jack… She sank to the hard floor, curled her knees to her chest, and imagined she was in the same place, but back in time with Jack.

Ozma opened her eyes, surrounded by darkness and shadows swaying across from her. She jolted up with a gasp, her gaze settling on a flickering lantern. For a moment, she thought she was back in the dark place with Reva. But then she recognized the rafters of the ceiling and ugly frayed curtains. She was in Jack’s hut.

How long had she slept?

She stood from the floor and stretched her spine. In front of the lantern, beside her dagger, was a bowl full of fruit. Jack had left this? Turning, she searched the bedroom for him, but he wasn’t there.

Tiptoeing to the door, she peered out through the narrow crack. Light snoring came from the sitting room, signaling Jack was there and asleep.

Now that Ozma was rested, her head clear, she remembered Mombi’s room, the stacks of books. There had to be something inside them—a location spell, one she could use to track down the witch.