Page 55 of Ozma

“What the fuck is this?” the Wizard shouted.

Oz was on his feet, his hands thrown outward toward the incoming thorns. Ozma ripped into Jack’s magic supply, painfully gouging out almost every ounce he had left, and the floor buckled beneath them.

A black, jagged tree burst upward and didn’t stop until it broke through the ceiling. Branches speared outward at nearly every angle. One sliced through Jack’s thigh and he let out a strangled cry. If it weren’t for the Wizard’s own scream, it would’ve given him away. He grimaced through the pain and looked up to find a large branch had struck through Oz’s left shoulder. It pinned him to the far wall like an insect.

“This isn’t your magic,” Oz shouted between painful gasps. “Where’s the slave hiding?”

Ah.So he was exposed either way.

Jack struggled to his feet, blood flowing freely from the wide gash in his leg. “I’m no slave,mortal.”

“Young love.” Oz smiled a wicked smile. A smile that promised something. “Once a slave, always a slave, eh? Though your master is admittedly better looking this time.”

Ozma quickly drew the dagger from her belt and gripped the handle so hard her knuckles turned white. Who was Jack to stop her if she wanted to hack away at the Wizard’s feet before Oz was dead? It wasn’t like Oz didn’t deserve it. In the scheme of things, he was getting off easy. Still, his gut churned. This wastooeasy…

Oz slapped his open palm to the wall behind him and green light exploded through the room.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Ozma

Ozma screamed and dropped to her knees as the green illumination around her grew brighter and brighter. Sharp pain lanced her right eye, and her vision went black on that side. Her wailing ended as she lifted her hand and felt warm blood leaking down her cheek. Fingers shaking, she brushed against a hard object planted in her eye. With quick motions, Ozma ripped it out and released a cry. The room spun, her head dizzy, and she heaved.

Her gaze settled on one of the thorns that Jack had sent riveting into the Wizard’s home. Somehow, when the Wizard threw his green light back, it must have sent some of the thorns soaring again, piercing her eye.

The emerald light remained bright, flickering across the room, against the large tree that had exploded in the room with Jack’s power. Her uninjured eye could only squint in the intense brightness.

Ozma dropped the thorn and felt around the hard flooring to get to Jack. She crawled forward, widening her good eye as the light around her dimmed a fraction. Two hands wrapped around Ozma’s neck, lifting her by the throat, then shoved her against a wall. The room cleared of green and the stark white light returned. She met the cold emerald eyes of the Wizard. There wasn’t a single wrinkle or blackened tooth on him. The shock of discovering him this way—so different—still hadn’t worn off. No longer withering, but young and full of life. Like he must have been when he’d first come to the Land of Oz. This had to be the reason Mombi had appeared frailer than ever—she was using more and more dark magic to restore his youth, while the shoes and Ozma’s power had been making him immortal. Even the wound where Jack had struck him with the tree appeared to be healing.

“Ozma, you beautiful thing,” Oz said pleasantly, his body firmly against hers. “Aren’t you wondering why I haven’t sent you back to the black pit yet? Did you really think I didn’t know you were attempting to distract me earlier? I knew exactly what you were doing.”

She had wondered it, but she wasn’t going to start asking. Instead, she whispered a spell that would make Oz obey her, but all he did was cluck his tongue at her. Tik-Tok hadn’t been lying about that—the Wizardwasprotected from spells. She moved to shove her dagger forward and he easily confiscated it, sliding it into the belt at his waist.

Oz tsked. “That wasn’t very nice.”

She would have to wait for the right time to get it back. “Where’s Jack?” Ozma searched past Oz, around the room and the tree, the couch, the window, but she couldn’t spot him anywhere. Why wasn’t Jack taking the opportunity to attack the Wizard? Unless the thorns had done something worse to him, taken more than his eye. Her heart struck her rib cage and her stomach dropped at the thought.

“Your precious slave will make the perfect guest at our wedding.” Oz’s smile grew wide, his white teeth glistening from the chandelier’s candlelight. “I just need to wait for Mombi to return so we can cast the spell to give her your body. The slippers’ magic wouldn’t have let you die from the dangers in that darkness.”

Ozma’s eyes widened in horror. “What?” Gritting her teeth, she tried to dip into Jack’s magic, needing to find the power to draw forth a tree branch or vine,anything. But nothing stirred within her.

“You arrived sooner than expected.” He pressed his nose to her hair and inhaled. “Mombi was supposed to get the remainder of her potions, summon you back to Oz herself, and bring you here.”

“Mombi’s dead.” Ozma tried to wiggle out from his grasp, but he was pressed too tightly against her.

Oz’s brows lifted, and his lips formed an O of surprise. “A pity we can’t use your body for her now.” He shrugged, staring hard at her. “But there’s always another option, isn’t there? You’re still here.” With motions too quick for a mortal, Oz spun her the other direction and squeezed his hands around her wrists behind her back, then walked her forward. “Let’s get you dressed now.”

“No,” she shouted, kicking back at him.

Oz’s other hand came to her throat, his fingers digging in at the sensitive area right under her jaw. He twisted her head to the side so her stare fell to a lump on the floor. A body of gnarled twigs with thin fingers and toes, and a pumpkin for a head. An emerald green leaf rested near the stem at the top of the pumpkin. As Ozma recognized the clothes the horrible creation wore, tears of anger burned down her cheeks.Jack.

“Fix him!” she screamed, wanting to claw at the Wizard, but his hold was too solid.

“I don’t think so,” he spat, tightening his grip even more as he pushed her forward into an open bedroom.

Spell books and jars filled with body parts were neatly placed on wooden shelves against the walls. It smelled of Mombi—her room. Two wooden wardrobes stood beside a bed on the opposite side of the room. A white gown lay sprawled over the mattress with hideous yellow jewels stitched into the bodice. Beside it rested a crown, sapphire and emerald jewels embedded in the gold.

An awful thought slammed into her. Mombi had been planning to use Ozma’s body to reclaim the throne and ensure no one could take it from Oz in the future. Ozma knew Mombi hadn’t been in love with Oz—she’d wanted power, most likely believed it was owed to her for all the help she’d given.

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