Page 17 of Ozma

This was the perfect opportunity she needed. “I think I’m going to lie down for a while. My wounds are aching a bit.”

“Do you need me to change the bandages?” He reached out as if he meant to check for himself.

“No!” she practically shouted, then softer, “No.”

“All right,” he said with an amused smile. Then his lips slowly turned downward. “You’re going to rest, right? If I leave you alone? You won’t go back to the lake or do anything else to cause trouble? I won’t be here to save you …”

“I’ll rest,” she lied.

With a nod, Jack went out the front door, and Ozma waited several moments before heading to the back of the room. After packing up her satchel with fruit, she slowly drew up the bedroom window and hurried to slip outside. Checking each direction, she darted into the forest behind the hut so she would be hidden by trees. She took out her dagger as she rushed to Mombi’s, remaining vigilant in case a dangerous creature appeared like the night before.

Ozma avoided any crackling leaves until she’d made it safely to the area behind Mombi’s hut. She peered around a tilted tree with decaying limbs, and spotted Jack, his back turned, seeming to be gutting a pumpkin.

Before Jack had time to turn around, she lunged out of the trees toward the front of the hut and pulled open the door, not making a single sound as she pressed inside.

The scent of Mombi’s past concoctions hit her nose again as she entered the witch’s bedroom. She took the pages she’d torn out of the book from her satchel. First, Ozma gathered a bucket and filled it with pumpkin water. Mombi kept at least ten jugs of the stuff in the sitting room at a time. The cabinet was only half full of the jars it usually held, most likely due to Mombi taking some with her on the journey. She then gathered a few strands of Mombi’s hair—the something personal—still stuck to her pillow, followed by gremlin blood and salamander feet.

Finally, she lifted her dagger and pressed it to the flesh of her ankle. She bit the inside of her cheek when she pushed in and sliced off a sliver of flesh. A low squeal escaped her lips as she tossed the skin into the bucket. The last things she needed were her saliva and blood, so she spat into the pail and used a few drops of scarlet from her throbbing ankle before bandaging it with cloth from a pile of clothing.

As she stirred the liquid with a wooden spoon, she chanted the words from the spell book page. A blue light flickered, and she chewed her lip as she poured a small amount of the mixture into a vial. Gripping the glass, she chanted the words again.

The blue light became a thin line, like yarn unraveling, before shooting out of the area, and through the sitting room to outside, connecting her to Mombi. Ozma opened the front door and peeked out, finding the light stretching right past Jack as he loaded pumpkins into the cart. He wouldn’t be able to see it—only she could.

Ozma couldn’t wait until nightfall to go hunt down Mombi—she was going now. She hoped Jack wouldn’t notice her as she dashed back into the forest and out of his view. Quickening her pace, she retraced her steps into the forest and flew through the trees, wondering how long it would take for her to get to Mombi.

Ozma said a goodbye to Jack inside her head, but it wasn’t forever. She would see him again, at least to let him know she’d killed Mombi so he would be completely free. But her heart still felt heavy.

The light guided her past faeries circling overhead and other tree fae watching her from branches or inside trunks. Ozma didn’t stop once, not until she reached the market. Fae kept asking her to purchase their goods, but she ignored them, until a female troll with deep wrinkles, and one eye lower than the other, grabbed her shoulders.

“Sit,” she demanded and shoved Ozma down onto a velvet-padded chair.

“I don’t have coin,” Ozma said, trying to escape the hands clamping her into place. “I’m—I’m in a hurry.”

“On me. Your hair is in much need of attention. It can easily be grabbed or unwillingly chopped off and sold.”

Before Ozma could utter a word, the troll quickly braided her hair. She relaxed under the female’s practiced movements as she effortlessly pressed braids into a crown around her head. The troll then plucked flowers from a painted vase and entwined them in sections of Ozma’s hair.

“There.” The troll clucked her tongue. “Much better.”

Sliding her fingers into her satchel, Ozma drew out a fruit and handed it to the troll as payment anyway—the female had been right. Mombi didn’t need any more advantages than she already had.

Ozma brushed a velvety petal in her hair and resumed following the light out of the market, down a long sloping hill. In the distance, more forestry and huts took up the area, but the light wasn’t taking her there, it was leading her to the right, toward an unlit tunnel, reminding her of the dark place. Her heart hammered in her chest as she studied it for longer than she should have.

As she took a step forward, a strong hand hauled her back against a solid chest. “I’ve let this charade go on long enough. What are you up to, Blossom?”

Chapter Eight

Jack

Jack dropped the handles of the cart in front of Antair’s stall and stretched, his back popping three times. “That’s it for the day,” he told the centaur. And probably forever. There were smaller pumpkins left and, though he would’ve liked more coin first, Ozma was right. It was risky to stay too long and have Mombi return. Waiting another week was asking for trouble. He should run with as many seeds as he could. If he allowed himself to become her slave again—

No.He would never. There were other ways to fill his pockets, even if he had to whore professionally. He did enjoy a good fuck anyway, especially when it took his mind off things. It would still be better than being trapped in that damn field.

“I wish Mombi had left you some pies to bring before heading off,” Antair lamented.

Jack shrugged. He wouldn’t wish those pies on anyone. There was no telling what that fucking masochistic witch put in them. There were probably crystallized bat wings or petrified gnome shit mixed into the batter. He ate Mombi’s cooking only when hehadto, but here these fae weremissing her pies.Probably due to some sort of addictive powder, as her skills over a fire were mediocre at best.

“Your friend from earlier isn’t helping you this time?”

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