Page 15 of Ozma

Ozma’s heart pounded harder at that voice, his gesture, that new pet name he called her yet again. Then there was him without his shirt on the night before. Each muscle was taut and firm, and she knew it was from the work he did on the farm. She shook the image away and refocused on how he was acting.

“Why?” Ozma asked hesitantly.

“Did you forget we’re going to the market today? You get to help me with the pumpkins, and in return, you’ll get another meal.” Jack tossed her a deep blue fruit and she easily caught it. “Chop, chop! I want to make at least two trips today.”

The market. Of course. But part of her interest was extremely piqued by this wild concept. Now she would get to see if it was truly how she’d imagined it. “Let me get dressed first.”

His eyes seemed to linger on her, expression unreadable, before shutting the door. The previous night hung between them—himseeingher naked body, his gaze resting on her then too. But she hadn’t wanted him to see her body for the first time like that, all at once. She glanced down, noticing Jack’s tunic.Is he annoyed that I’m still wearing his shirt?He’d given it to her when they’d returned to his hut since her dress had been too damp to sleep in.

Making a low groan of frustration, she tugged off his tunic and shimmied back into her dress. She bit into the piece of fruit as she left the hut and walked outside into the patch. The sun lay hidden behind the clouds and the sky was turning a light shade of gray. A gust of wind swished past her, blowing the vines of the pumpkins, near where Jack stood.

Beside him were mostly empty crates and one filled with small pumpkins. On his other side rested a cart on wheels loaded with larger ones. She hadn’t missed having to gut the fruit day after day for Mombi’s spells and pies.

“I think it might rain,” Ozma said, padding up beside him.

“A little water never killed anyone.” Jack peered over his shoulder, lifting the crate of fruit. “Can you take that one?” He pointed at the cart, then paused and reached for it. “Never mind. I don’t want you pulling at your wounds.”

“I’m fine.” She arched a brow and grabbed the wooden handle, tugging the pumpkins forward. They jostled side to side. Her wounds stung for a moment, but she didn’t let it show.

Jack wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and they started walking toward the forest.

Ozma practically held her breath as they skirted around narrow tree trunks where the barrier should’ve been. And, even though it wasn’t there, she still couldn’t believe that she was able to go into uncharted territory of Loland.

Once outside the former boundary line, heart still pounding, she took a deep inhale, the woodsy and sweet scent enveloping her. She wondered what the buildings would look like, and what the world outside her entrapment held. And now she would finally know—get to see the places Jack went when he’d been commanded to leave the patch.

Past rocks and boulders, a creek trickled with water. Bushes full of pink and purple berries surrounded the edge of it. The trees seemed to grow wider the farther they got. A tiny brown and green rose goblin covered in thorns leapt out from a crooked hole in a tree, baring its teeth.

Jack hissed back. The rose goblin yelped and tucked its head back inside. Ozma couldn’t control her chuckle.

“So,” Jack drawled. “Tell me about this dark place you were at…”

He was digging for information from her because he still didn’t trust her. Nobody else would be able to tell, but she could. Ozma needed to avoid his suspicion until she could make the potion at Mombi’s.

“After Mombi removed me from the mirror and banished me from Oz, I fell into a place with darkness all around. There were things down there that made it so you wouldn’t want to sleep. I was constantly on the move, fleeing from beasts that could rip you apart in one bite, and trees that could tear you in half. But I wasn’t alone—that’s where I met Dorothy’s mother, Reva.” They’d never seen another living soul there other than the beasts—only skeletons of dead fae, like the one she’d taken her clothing from.

His lips parted and this time she placed a finger on Jack’s mouth. To shushhim. Even though she hadn’t meant to do it, the movement was a habit. Jack’s warm breath struck her digit and her nerves lit up everywhere, so she hurried and dropped her hand.

Ozma then explained Dorothy’s story—how she was really a fae named Thelia, and how she’d defeated Langwidere. She continued to explain how Reva had been cursed as the Wicked Witch of the West and was traveling with Crow to defeat Locasta. Or at least she hoped Crow had caught up to her.

Jack’s brow furrowed, confused. “News reached here from across the Sands, but I never really listened.”

“Why not?” Ozma ducked under a branch and stopped when her foot pressed onto a blue bricked road, similar to the yellow one. A layer of dust coated the faded bricks, but not a single crack or fracture marred them.

“Because I never plan to go there anyway.” Jack helped her lift the cart over the edge of the bricks and changed the subject. “What about your parents? Tip always wondered about them.”

He was right. As Tip, she always had, but as Ozma she knew what had happened to them from Reva. King Pastoria and Queen Lurline. While thinking about them—regal images without faces—she didn’t feel the way she thought she should, as a daughter, as a queen. If Ozma had known them, she would have loved them, but there was only the want to be sad, not the true, fragile emotion. “They’re dead.” She sighed. “The Wizard killed my father and Langwidere took the head of my mother to wear as her own.”

Jack made a coughing sound. “I’m sorry,what?”

“I’ll tell you all about Langwidere and her collection of heads later.” Ozma had seen Crow burying them outside Glinda’s castle. She’d wondered if her mother’s had been in the collection or if Langwidere had already destroyed it.

His face turned serious. “I’m sorry you and Tip didn’t get to know them.”

She nodded, wishing she had.

As they rounded a curve up ahead, past fruit trees, light gray smoke curled upward. There were huts spread all across the land. Not in a single neat row, but anywhere and everywhere. The blue bricks led them closer and closer, and she found the huts to be neat and tidy. Emerald green leaves and dark purple branches made up the roofs, and each home was painted shades of yellow and red.

Her eyes widened at everything around her: the elves in front of their homes washing clothing in large silver buckets, the tiny fauns chasing each other in some sort of game, and another fae who looked to be preparing to go to the market with a cart full of flowered headdresses.

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