Dark Side of the Rainbow
Author: Danielle Paige
Date: 2017-01-31 00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: kindle; fiction; sf; fantasy
Publisher: HarperCollins
Rights: All rights reserved

CONTENTS

1. Contents
2. One
3. Two
4. Three
5. Four
6. Five
7. Six
8. Seven
9. Eight
10. Excerpt from The Witch Must Burn
11. Back Ads
12. About the Author
13. Books by Danielle Paige
14. Copyright
15. About the Publisher

Guide

1. Cover
2. Contents
3. Chapter 1

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ONE

Polly was bored and lonely. Again. She looked out through the Rainbow Citadel’s clear crystal walls at the brilliant multicolored light of Rainbow Falls. She saw countless floating islands ranging in size from as small as her pet unicorn, Heathcliff, to two or three times the size of the entire Rainbow Citadel. Dozens of her guests sunned themselves on the island’s rainbow-hued sand beaches, sipping jewel-colored cocktails and snacking on sunlight puffs and prism pastries. Rainbow Falls’s Sprite staff, each wearing his or her own version of the informal Rainbow Falls uniform (wispy, ephemeral scarves wrapped like saris or fluttering behind them loosely on the warm, tropical breeze, revealing a considerable amount of tanned, toned flesh), carried piled-high platters of sunfruit and cloud bread. Half of them had sat down themselves to nibble at their wares or take heavy pulls on flasks of glowing light liquor.

Polly yawned and looked away. Rainbow Falls was the most popular tourist destination in Oz. The guests slept in hovering hammocks sheltered by huge trees with broad emerald leaves that deflected even the worst of the rainbow monsoons. The balmy, tropical air never changed temperature. Sunfruit grew on trees and cloud bread floated through the air in clusters that were easy to break apart anytime you needed a snack. And pools of rainbow light lapped against the warm sand beaches. Everybody was always happy in Rainbow Falls, because Rainbow Falls was paradise.

But being happy all the time, Polly reflected, wasn’t quite the same thing as having companionship. Or much to do. Because even though Polly was officially in charge of Rainbow Falls, everything just kind of ran itself.

“Don’t you think it’s strange to see so little of your subjects?” Ozma asked.

“What?” Polly turned around to face her cousin. She lit a rainbow husk cigarette, exhaling a long plume of multicolored, lavender-scented smoke that Ozma waved away irritably. “They’re good for you,” Polly said, rolling her eyes.

“They make you a lazy space cadet, Pol,” Ozma said.

“I’m not lazy,” Polly said. She and Ozma were cousins, the way that all fairies were cousins. She loved Ozma, of course, but sometimes she could have sworn that Ozma brought out the absolute worst in her. In addition to being the Queen of Oz, she was a total square. Ozma was just so serious about her responsibilities all the time, which made her kind of a drag. “We’re fairies, Ozma. We’re supposed to be laughing and dancing and free. We’re supposed to rule like the tides rule the sea.” So maybe Polly was a little spacey, but that had nothing to do with rainbow husk smoke. She was just a free spirit. She’d inherited the role of ruling Rainbow Falls, but following the rules wasn’t really her thing.

Neither was staying in one place.

“I don’t understand why you won’t come with me to Munchkin Country for the dazzleberry cordial festival,” Polly said, changing the subject. “It’ll be fun. I’m going to go dancing every night. Last year I met this supercute farmer and we spent the whole weekend—”

“Like I said, I can’t believe you just take off all the time,” Ozma said severely. “You’re supposed to be running a kingdom, Pol. Everything we are is about taking care of this place. Like a garden, not an ocean. I see my subjects nearly every day. I ask them about their concerns. I think about new laws that will help better their lives. I worry about the health of Oz. But you just . . .” Ozma waved a hand dismissively.

“My subjects are fine, Ozma,” Polly said, blowing another plume of smoke at the crystal window. “Look at them. Do they seem unhappy to you? They don’t notice whether I’m here or not.”

Ozma shook her head, but then she smiled. “I don’t want to fight about it,” she said. “Let’s just spend some time together and enjoy ourselves until I have to go back to the Emerald City.”

Polly smiled in relief. “Your wish is my command,” she said. “Want to hit the beaches again?”

“Sure,” Ozma said. “That sounds great. Maybe I can even get a tan.”

But as Polly gathered up her beach gear—translucent caftan, basket of snacks, and a blanket woven from cloud silk—she tried not to let Ozma see her face. She knew what would actually happen as soon as they settled down on some isolated, flawless beach: Ozma would get an important message from the capital and dash off, leaving Polly to bask alone in the tropical Rainbow Falls sun. It happened every time Ozma came to visit—which wasn’t very often, and Polly was surprised she’d even gotten Ozma up here this time—and Polly was tired of it. Tired of Ozma’s nagging, tired of looking for things in common with her uptight cousin, tired of defending her freedom-loving ways.

The truth was, Ozma didn’t know how to have fun. And at the end of the day, she and Polly were nothing alike, no matter how hard Polly tried to enjoy herself with her cousin.

She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, concentrating on the sound of distant waves.

“What are you doing?”

“I was meditating,” Polly said. Ozma was so literal. It was exhausting.

Annoyed despite herself, Polly led Ozma to her absolute favorite beach. Parasol trees floated a few inches over the swirling, rainbow-colored sand. A pool of blue light lapped gently against the shore. Polly threw down her gauzy caftan as Ozma politely averted her eyes—as if Polly cared who saw her naked, she thought—and in a clean, graceful arc, dove into the blue light. She somersaulted lazily and then surfaced again, flicking drops of blue light out of her eyes. “Come on in, it’s perfect,” she urged Ozma. But of course, no sooner had Ozma spread her blanket out over the gleaming, pristine sand than a big, gold-winged butterfly popped into being overhead. “An urgent message for Her Majesty Queen Ozma!” it squeaked.

Ozma jumped to her feet. “I’m here,” she said.

A gold-hinged door on the butterfly’s chest swung open and a scroll of white paper emerged with a clicking noise. Ozma reached forward to take it as letters in a loopy, sprawling cursive appeared on the page. Ozma scanned the document quickly.

“I’m sorry, Pol, I gotta go. The Nixies are in a fight with their neighbors, and it’ll probably get messy.” Ozma made a face. “Water rights, you know? Someone has to set the boundaries in the Silver Sea.” She frowned again. “It’s weird, though. Ever since Dorothy Gale came back to Oz, things have been different in a way I can’t totally explain. I’ve spent a lot of time with her, and she’s a sweet girl. But I don’t think she’s been completely honest with me. And she treats her own aunt and uncle as though she can’t wait to be rid of them. It’s almost like she’s . . . are you even listening to me?”

“Mmmm,” Polly said. “Dorothy. Sounds stressful.” She’d known as soon as she saw the butterfly what was coming. She closed her eyes and leaned backward until she floated on her back, bobbing gently. “You can’t hang out a little longer?” But she already knew what her cousin’s answer would be.

“It is stressful, Pol. It’s more than that. It could be something serious. I’m sure she has the good of Oz in mind, but there’s something up with her, and I’m going to find out what it is. You know, Pol—”

She stopped.

“What?” Polly asked, not opening her eyes. She had a feeling she knew what was coming next.

Sure enough, Ozma took a deep breath. It was her “I’m about to launch into a monologue about your responsibilities as a ruler” deep breath. Polly sighed and squeezed her eyes shut more tightly. And waited.

“It was nice to see you,” Ozma said finally instead. Polly opened one eye. Her cousin’s expression was rueful. As if she knew what Polly thought of her constant nagging.

“It was nice to see you, too,” Polly said. She meant it. No matter how different she was from her cousin, she still loved Ozma. She just wished Ozma could be a friend. Like, a real friend. Not just someone you hung out with because you were related to them. Someone who really got her. Who knew how to have fun. “Good luck with the Pixies or whatever.”

“Nixies.”

“Nixies. Right. The water ones.” Polly yawned and Ozma laughed.

“You’re impossible, Pol,” Ozma said, but there was real affection in her voice.

“I know,” Polly said. With a pop and a flash of light, Ozma disappeared.

If Polly had known that was the last time she’d ever see her cousin—her cousin as she really was, anyway—she would have pushed harder for the Munchkin holiday. Instead, she flicked a crystal droplet of rainbow with one finger. It chimed like a wineglass. “Bring me my unicorn,” she said, leaning back and drifting off. As soon as she’d had a little nap, she’d set off for Munchkin Country. Maybe she’d send Ozma a postcard. If she remembered. Which, admittedly, she wasn’t so great at.

“One unicorn, coming right up,” said an unfamiliar voice. Polly sat up, treading rainbows. “You know he’s a panther, right?”

“Who are you?” Polly asked. “You’re not one of the Rainbow Falls attendants. If you are, you forgot your uniform. And I’ll thank you not to insult my unicorn.”

“Bright, at your service,” said the stranger. He was good-looking in a storybook kind of way: white-blond ringlets, pale gray eyes, pillowy lips that looked like they’d been designed especially for kissing. Very intriguing. Polly fluttered her eyelashes at him and he winked. “I was hoping we could figure out some kind of a work trade.” Heathcliff was winding around Bright’s legs, purring.

“Give me back my unicorn and tell me who you are,” Polly said, trying to sound severe. She didn’t like random strangers showing up at her favorite private beach and wooing her unicorn. Even if they were incredibly good-looking and extremely fit random strangers.

Bright scratched Heathcliff behind the ears. Heathcliff’s purr intensified. “I think he likes me,” Bright said. “And I already told you, my name is Bright.”

“What kind of name is that?” Polly asked suspiciously.

“What kind of name is Polychrome?” he countered with a saucy grin. “You’d have to ask my parents, I guess. But to do that, you’d have to find them.”

Polly narrowed her eyes, pretending to be miffed. “Heathcliff is extremely dangerous. I’d advise you to give him back.”

Bright scratched under Heathcliff’s chin. Heathcliff closed his eyes in ecstasy. “Yeah, he’s terrifying. So, about that work trade? I was hoping I could, you know, help out around the place. Clean the Rainbow Pools. Whatever you want.”

“In exchange for what?”

“A place to stay. Some surf time.” Bright gestured in the direction of Indigo Beach, where the waves were legendary. “I’ve wanted to come here my whole life, but resort wear isn’t really my thing. And to be honest, I’m broke.”

“I don’t need a pool boy,” Polly said.

“Baby, everybody needs someone. But I’ll start with the pool.”

His voice sounded serious all of a sudden. Poly didn’t do serious. People came to the Falls and fell in love with her instantly on a regular basis. It was because she didn’t look like anyone else in Oz, and because she was part fairy. The beautiful boy didn’t stand a chance, really.

“The Falls have everything I need. Didn’t you hear, this is paradise?”

But then he said something that she had never heard before. Not from any of the Sprites. Not from Ozma.

“I bet it’s hard work being in charge of all this happiness. If you ever need—” he began.

“Help? I could manage Rainbow Falls in my sleep. I breathe fun.”

“Yes, you do,” he said appreciatively, “but I was going to say if you ever need company . . .”

Sprites, Munchkins, Gillikins, there was a line around the Falls for her attentions. Despite Bright’s bravado, there was something genuine about him. He made it sound like she was the one who might need company, but Polly wondered if it was the other way around.

“I have plenty of company,” she was about to say, considering bringing a Sprite over to kiss her as proof. But instead, she smiled wider and said, “I bet you can’t manage the waves out there.”

“I can handle myself.” He was cocky. But he had a surfer’s build, lean and broad-shouldered, every muscle clearly defined. Maybe he didn’t know what he was getting into; maybe he did. Either way, it wasn’t Polly’s problem. She didn’t make rules in her kingdom.

“Do we have a deal?”

He was arrogant. That was for sure. He was also flirting with her. And he was really, really cute. And she hadn’t had this much fun in a long time. Besides, he seemed sort of lost, sort of sad. She didn’t hate the idea of cheering him up.

“Fine,” she said with an exaggerated sigh and roll of her eyes, and his grin got bigger.

Let him think he’d won this round. Polly was an old hand at this game.

Suddenly that trip to Munchkin Country didn’t seem so urgent after all.

TWO

To her surprise, Bright was as good as his word. Most boys who looked like him were not promise keepers. After she agreed to let him stay on at Rainbow Falls, she didn’t see much of him at first. The Sprites told her he woke up at dawn to catch the biggest waves at Indigo Beach, then spent the late morning and early afternoon doing the kinds of chores no one else wanted to—cleaning out the resort rooms after families left them in a state of total wreckage, scrubbing up after a whole bachelorette party drank too much sunfruit liquor and was sick all over the second-best, reservation-only banquet hall, even scooping out Heathcliff’s sandbox. And then Bright went surfing again until long after the sun set, paddling out in the amethyst glow of the beach itself. But Polly had plenty to keep her busy: there was her daily swim in the Emerald Pool, one of the seven Rainbow Pools, followed by her tanning session. There was sunfruit to snack on and rainbow husks to smoke. Heathcliff always needed brushing. Naps needed taking, and the best-looking Sprites needed kissing.

But whenever she saw Bright in person, she remembered the spark between them. And she knew he remembered it, too. He might have come to Rainbow Falls to surf, but he was staying because of her. Most boys just wanted her. Polly got the feeling he needed her.

And then one night after Bright had been in Rainbow Falls for a week, or two, or three—Polly wasn’t the greatest at keeping track of time—she lay tossing and turning in her rainbow hammock, completely unable to sleep. Heathcliff, curled up on a soft patch of vermilion grass below her, was snoring softly. His cardboard horn was crooked; he must have pawed at it in his sleep. Polly grabbed a pale, translucent robe of rainbow silk and her surfboard and slid out of the hammock, careful not to wake Heathcliff, and headed in the direction of Indigo Beach.

The full moon was out—it was always out in Rainbow Falls, unless Polly wanted to see the stars—and hanging low and huge in the sky. The sand beaches sparkled in its cool silver light. A soft, balmy breeze rustled the fronds of the dream trees; here and there flowers swelled and burst, releasing puffs of sweet-smelling smoke that formed tiny, intricate scenes of other places, real and imagined. The faint sound of bongos and harmonizing voices carried across the island; the Sprites were at another late-night jam session, which meant they’d sleep in until noon and the guests would have to fend for themselves for breakfast as usual. Polly didn’t think much of people who needed breakfast. Who wanted to get up that early on vacation? The only civilized morning meal, obviously, was brunch.

The night was as warm as bathwater. Polly took a deep breath of rainbow-scented air and let it out again. Maybe Ozma was right. Everything she needed was here, in the paradise she ruled. Maybe staying at home was the answer after all. Her subjects, such as they were, didn’t need much direction, so it’s not like she actually had to work when she was ruling. The residents of Rainbow Falls were too happy and carefree to let themselves get into arguments about silly things, or to care about the things people lusted after in the Emerald City: wealth, knowledge, power. Her people were content to swim in the falls, surf the epic waves, nap in the afternoon sun, and stay permanently blissed out on rainbow smoke, dazzleberry cordial, and good music.

But some part of Polly wouldn’t let her rest. There was more out there. She was sure of it. And she couldn’t be content in her own kingdom until she was satisfied.

For now, the new boy would have to do.

Bright wasn’t hard to find. While the other resort employees lived in lean-tos built from fallen dream tree branches and mats woven of rainbow husks, he’d been sleeping out on Indigo Beach ever since he arrived in Rainbow Falls. And tonight, under the light of the moon, he was still surfing. Polly could see him easily silhouetted against the moonlight-glazed purple waves. She dropped her board, sank down in the silvery sands, tucking her feet underneath her, and watched for a few minutes.

Polly had grown up on these beaches. She’d learned to swim before she could walk. In all of Rainbow Falls, there was no one who could surf like her. No one who even tried.

But Bright, she realized, was good. Really good. Maybe even almost as good as she was. She watched him catch wave after wave, standing easily with Heathcliff-like grace, his muscles rippling in the moonlight. Few of Polly’s subjects surfed at Indigo Beach besides Polly; it was the wildest of all the beaches in Rainbow Falls. The waves were huge and intimidating, and although it was impossible to drown in rainbows, it wasn’t at all impossible to spin out into the dizzying array of color and currents and lose sight of shore. People didn’t surf out here because sometimes people didn’t come back—for days, months, years. Sometimes people didn’t come back at all.

Bright was fearless; he surfed like someone who didn’t care much if he got lost or not. Maybe because he already was, Polly wondered. She could see it in the way he moved. It was the way Polly herself moved: graceful, confident, effortless.

Bright surfed like she did. Like an equal. Polly wasn’t used to equals. She found it distinctly sexy.

Polly stood up and dropped her robe onto the sand. She grabbed her board and loped toward the indigo surf, diving into an oncoming wave so elegantly she didn’t even make a splash. She paddled toward where Bright’s dark shadow waited, ducking under each oncoming wave until she was sitting on her board next to him. He didn’t seem at all surprised to see her.

“It’s a good night,” he said. His eyes flicked toward her and lingered. Polly knew she was beautiful. She was a fairy, after all. But even if she hadn’t had a few supernatural advantages—impossibly long, thick, glossy hair strung with flecks of rainbow that undulated as if it had a mind of its own, eternal agelessness, heaven-colored eyes, et cetera—she was muscular from a lifetime of swimming and surfing. Her skin was flawless. Her figure was amazing. And she wasn’t wearing any clothes. So she couldn’t blame Bright for looking, although some part of her was already a little bored. Did he have to make it so easy? He was no better than the Sprites.

But then Bright surprised her.

“Best out of three?” He wasn’t looking at her anymore. He was looking at the waves.

Polly arched an eyebrow. “You can’t beat me.”

He smiled, still not looking at her. “Let me be the judge of that.”

She shrugged. “It’s your funeral.”

He shot her an arrogant grin. “Or yours.”

“I just don’t want you to get lost out there,” she said.

“Your concern is touching.”

“I hope you’re not in the habit of insulting royalty,” she said. “I could throw you in prison, you know.”

“Does Rainbow Falls even have a prison?”

“The Sprites love a construction project. Gives them something to do. You’re not going to win.”

“Maybe I like risk.”

Polly hid a smile of her own. “What’s the prize?”

Bright pretended to look thoughtful. “If I win . . . when I win . . . I get to do whatever I want.” He looked her in the eye, a gleam in his own. “With you.”

Polly pretended to consider. “And when I win?”

He tossed his head, white-blond ringlets flying. “You get to do whatever you want. With me.”

“Sounds like a win for you either way,” she said.

“Oh, I think it’s a win for you, too.”

“You think a lot of yourself.”

“You would, too, if you knew me better.”

Despite herself, Polly giggled. “Fine. When I win, I do whatever I want with you. Which, in this case, is have the Sprites dig an underground hole and throw your insolent ass into it until I decide to be lenient.”

“You’re joking,” Bright said. But now he sounded a little less sure of himself.

“Fairies never joke.”

“Then I probably shouldn’t lose.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have much of a choice.” Polly closed her eyes and hummed under her breath. In an instant, the heaving indigo light changed, growing choppier and more ominous. On the horizon, a huge wave began to build.

“That’s cheating,” Bright said.

“Are you afraid?”

He met her eyes again, grinning. Polly’s heart gave a little skip. He was really very handsome. Distractingly so. “I’m not afraid of anything. Not even you.”

“Well,” Polly said lightly, “you should definitely be afraid of that wave. I’ll let you go first.”

Without another word, he paddled away from her as the swell bore down on him. A twinge of regret flashed through her. She’d made the task impossible. And if she wiped him out completely, even she couldn’t bring him back from the far reaches of the Rainbow Sea. Which meant she wouldn’t be able to enjoy him later. But on the bright side—no pun intended—if he survived the contest he’d proposed, he’d think twice about insulting royalty. And if he was lost to her forever—well, handsome as he was, there were always the Sprites. They knew better than to give her attitude. And they always did what she wanted.

Which, come to think of it, was part of why they bored her.

The wave carried Bright forward as it began to crest. It was enormous—twenty or thirty feet high and roaring with power.

And strangely enough, he didn’t look the least bit worried. In one easy, graceful motion he stood up on the board. He floated down the massive tunnel of light, brushing his fingers lightly against the surface of the wave. If he so much as faltered, he’d tumble into the indigo depths—and the likelihood that he’d ever come back was almost nonexistent.

But he didn’t falter.

Polly was impressed.

The wave broke, and for a moment she lost sight of him. But as the Rainbow Sea flattened out, she spotted him seated jauntily on his board, waving at her.

Polly grinned and hummed again. The wave she summoned for herself was even bigger. She’d teach him a thing or two about getting too full of himself.

It didn’t take long for them to forget the original terms of the contest; they were having too much fun. Polly summoned wave after wave, each one bigger than the last. She even surprised herself by smoothing out a particularly heinous wave so that she could watch him a little longer. He looked back and smiled at her as if he recognized what she’d done.

They surfed for hours until finally, as one of the most impressive waves she’d called up yet bore down on them, Bright shook his head, laughing. “You win, princess. That one’s more than a match for me. After all, I’m human.”

Polly snapped her fingers and the wave dissolved into a shower of purple rainbow fragments, glittering softly with their own inner light as they fell harmlessly into the sea.

“You did all right,” Polly said with a smile. “For a boy.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Bright said appreciatively.

“I do have a slight advantage.”

“Being a fairy?”

“No, silly. Being a girl.” This time there was no mistaking the way his gaze lingered on her lithe, curvaceous body. Polly smiled to herself. “Why don’t you sleep in my palace tonight?” she said, winking at him.

“Is that a command?”

She giggled and splashed him. “More like a wish. I don’t actually believe in making people do things they don’t want to.”

“In that case . . .” He trailed off suggestively and reached out to trace the line of her cheek with one finger. Their lips were inches apart as they floated on the now-tranquil sea. Their eyes locked. Bright leaned in to kiss her. But Polly turned and dove so neatly she didn’t leave a ripple in the indigo light and set out for shore. It was best to keep boys on their toes at all times. She heard Bright laugh behind her and then a splash as he followed her.

They didn’t make it back to the palace—and they didn’t sleep until much, much later. But when Polly woke up the next morning—well, early afternoon, technically, but who was counting—she was alone on the beach. She yawned and sat up, rubbing her eyes. Boys were so flaky. Especially the human kind. A jagged scrap of rainbow husk, covered in sprawling cursive, was held down by a hunk of crystal next to her. She pulled it free, reading the loopy, slanted letters.

I’m sorry I’m not very good at staying in one place at a time. You’re the coolest girl I’ve met in a while. See you again soon. B

Polly rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. Maybe she would see him again, maybe she wouldn’t. Either way, that had been some truly excellent surfing.

THREE

But to her surprise, Polly found that after Bright vanished, she was even more bored than ever. It was almost as if she missed him. Which made no sense at all. After all, she barely knew him. She was a fairy. She’d kissed countless boys. And Munchkins, and Sprites, and once a winged monkey, which had been a totally disgusting experience never to be repeated, and a lot of other Ozians she had long since lost track of. But she couldn’t get Bright’s pale eyes or white-blond hair out of her mind. And nobody in Rainbow Falls—not the tourists, not the Sprites, not even the rainbow sylphs, who were as elusive as night-blooming tireus but swam like angels—could surf like him.

Polly abandoned all pretense of ruling completely, spending her days out at Indigo Beach calling up bigger and bigger waves. She surfed until she was so tired she couldn’t think anymore, fell asleep on the beach for a few hours, and then surfed again. For a while, the Sprites came to her with various resort problems—the guests on Aurora Archipelago had drunk the entire store of prism wine, a child had cried at the Cobalt Pool and the parents were demanding an admission refund, piranhas had been spotted in the Russet Rapids—but Polly just waved them away, and soon they stopped bothering her altogether. Problems at the resort were never serious, anyway. What kind of people found the time to complain while they were on vacation in paradise? Polly didn’t care if they never came back.

But then one afternoon one of the senior Sprites came to find her. She was sitting on the crystal beach, staring thoughtfully out at the waves and planning her next trip. She’d never hiked through the Marbled Mountains, a region so remote it was full of creatures that were nearly mythical in Oz. But she’d also never been to the open-air markets of the Fringe, the arid region at the border of the Deadly Desert, where nomads and renegades from all over Oz sold beautiful fabrics, raw jewels, and exotic spices in a winding maze of tents and caravans that stretched as far as the eye could see. . . .

“Your Rainbow Highness?” The Sprite cleared his throat, and Polly realized he’d been standing there for several minutes, waiting patiently for her to notice him.

“Yes . . . Canary?” she said impatiently.

“Carmine, Your Highness,” he said.

“You’re supposed to be wearing name tags,” she reminded him.

“They’re degrading.”

“You’re right.” Polly’s face softened. “I’m sorry. What do you need?”

“You have a visitor.”

“A visitor?” For a second, Polly perked up. Had Bright come back? Not that she cared too much, of course. But still. He’d been fun. And then she discarded the idea. If he came back, he’d just show up. He was that type. No way would he send one of her Sprites to find her, let alone announce his arrival.

“Well, show them around the resort,” Polly said with a yawn. “They can have that little tree house over by the Emerald Ravine, it’s got a wonderful view this time of year.”

“Not a guest.” The Sprite seemed uncertain, which was decidedly unlike a Sprite. Polly raised an eyebrow. “A visitor. A royal visitor.”

The only royal visitor Polly ever got was Ozma, and she never turned up without sending word first.

“Is it my cousin Ozma?” she asked warily.

“She says she’s the Witchslayer. Dorothy, the Queen of Oz.”

Polly stared at Carmine for a second, not sure she’d heard him correctly.

“The Queen of Oz? But Ozma’s the queen.”

“I don’t know,” Carmine said. “That’s what she said. She said, ‘Tell the Daughter of the Rainbow that she is receiving a visit from Dorothy the Witchslayer, the interim Queen of Oz.”

Polly felt a weird sensation creep up her spine. Fear? Worry? Whatever it was, she wasn’t used to it. She shrugged it off.

“Weird,” Polly said lightly. “I guess I’ll go see what she wants.”

“She’s not like Ozma,” Carmine said. “Like, at all.”

“That could be cool,” said Polly. She stood and stretched. The Sprites were used to her beauty, but a reminder or two never hurt. All that surfing had done wonders for her muscle tone.

Dorothy was standing at the window in the throne room of the Crystal Palace, looking out at the floating islands. Based on the stories about her, Polly had been expecting a little girl in a modest dress. But this Dorothy was distinctly womanly—and so were her clothes. Her blue-and-white-checked dress was cinched so tightly at her tiny waist that Polly winced in sympathy, wondering how she could breathe, and then flared out into a bell-like skirt that ended at her ankles. Her long, wavy auburn hair was gathered into an intricate updo. Her nails were lacquered bloodred. But most striking of all were her shoes: dazzling ruby-red heels that glittered with every imaginable variation of incarnadine, from a deep garnet to a blushing pink depending on how the light caught them. A little black dog, his coat shampooed to a brilliant gloss, sat patiently at her feet. Around his neck was a starched red bow tie.

“Polychrome!” Dorothy exclaimed, turning as Polly came into the room. But then she stopped short, forgetting whatever she had been about to say. “Oh! I didn’t realize you weren’t ready . . .”

Polly looked at Dorothy in surprise. “Ready for what?”

“Your clothes,” Dorothy said faintly.

“Oh,” Polly said, looking down and laughing. She wasn’t wearing any. Landlubbers could be uptight about the strangest things. “Does it bother you? Carmine, be a sweetheart and bring me a robe before our guest runs screaming for the hills.”

“Of course,” the Sprite said, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

When Polly was dressed more modestly—by her standards, anyway, although Dorothy still seemed slightly uncomfortable by comparison—she settled on a snow-white cushion and gestured for Dorothy to do the same. “Dewdrop brandy? Dazzleberry cordial?”

“I wouldn’t say no,” Dorothy said, perking up immediately. “I’ve heard wonderful things about the dazzleberry cordial.”

Carmine vanished, reappearing a moment later with a tray piled high with glasses and Rainbow Falls’s finest delicacies. Dorothy popped a gargantuan gumdrop into her mouth and chewed meditatively.

“So, Witchslayer,” Polly said, draining her own thimbleful of dewdrop brandy and beckoning for Carmine to pour her another. “What brings you to Rainbow Falls?”

“Call me Dorothy, please,” Dorothy said through another mouthful of gumdrop. “Wow, these things are really good. Back in Kansas, let me tell you, you wouldn’t have dreamed of being able to get stuff like this.” She gave a sigh of satisfaction. Polly waited patiently, trying not to yawn. “Oh!” Dorothy added, remembering Polly’s question. “I’ve been touring all over Oz, actually. I saved Rainbow Falls for last because I’ve heard so many wonderful things about it—and you.”

“All true, I’m sure,” Polly said modestly.

“It’s better than my wildest imaginings!” Dorothy exclaimed excitedly, sitting up to reach for another gumdrop. “I didn’t get to come here on my first trip to Oz. Too busy saving the world!” She giggled. “That was so time-consuming. And I had to help my friends—you know about the Lion, the Scarecrow, and the Tin Woodman, of course?”

“Mmmmm,” said Polly, examining her fingernails and wishing just a little bit that Dorothy would get to the point.

“Well, with Ozma taking a little breather and—”

“What do you mean?” Polly asked, her interest sharpening. Ozma hadn’t said anything about taking time off.

“It’s no big deal,” Dorothy said airily, waving a hand. “She’s fine and all. She just—well, if you want to know the truth, I think ruling Oz didn’t really agree with her. She needed a vacation like nobody’s business. All work and no play, you know?”

Polly nodded. The “all work and no play” sounded like her cousin. But she’d never known Ozma to take a vacation in her entire life. The girl was absolutely fanatical about things like “duty” and “fidelity” and other boring stuff like that.

“The point is, I think the responsibility was driving her, well, a little nuts. And that’s where I come in. It was so lucky that I was already in Oz, spending time with her at the Emerald Palace, having a grand old time. And one day she said to me, ‘Dorothy, you know magic, you love Oz as much as I do, you have the Lion and the Woodman and the Scarecrow with you—Oz is in marvelous hands, why don’t you hold the reins while I jet off for a minute or two and unwind.’ What was I going to do, say no? I want what’s best for Oz, too, you know. I’m not from here, but I love this place even more than most of its citizens, I’m sure of it.” Dorothy smiled brilliantly. “But as interim queen, I thought I should meet all of my new royal subjects. So I decided to jet off myself.”

“Ozma left you in charge of Oz?” Polly said, puzzled. “That doesn’t seem like something she’d do.”

“Maybe you don’t know her as well as I do,” Dorothy said sharply. But then her tone softened. “She was just crazy from all the work,” she said in a sweet, singsongy voice. “Helping her out was the least I could do. When she comes back she can swoop on in and have her crown and scepter and the throne and all those queenly chores she adores so much.”

Polly considered this. Maybe Ozma had been far more stressed than she let on—she did always have to leave Rainbow Falls before she had a chance to fall asleep in the sun, and she hadn’t even dipped a toe in all seven Rainbow Pools. Polly felt a twinge of guilt that she hadn’t noticed her cousin’s preoccupations. But Dorothy was right—in the end, Polly and Ozma had very little in common and saw each other only very rarely. If Dorothy had been spending weeks palling around the Emerald City with her, maybe Dorothy did know more about Ozma’s mental state than Polly did.

“You don’t think you should stay in the Emerald City while Ozma’s away?” Polly asked. Not that she stayed at home much, despite her duties. But ruling Rainbow Falls and the kingdom of Oz were two completely different things.

“Oh, Scare and Tin can take care of things,” Dorothy said. “They’re used to it. The Scarecrow was King of Oz himself for a while, you know.”

“Schools,” Polly said. “That’s all I remember about his rule. He opened a lot of schools.”

“Did you go?”

“School’s not really my thing,” Polly said with a graceful shrug. “Although I think we might learn very different things in Oz, like how to sort out purring buzzlebees from squeamish ones, and what to feed a barleycute, and where to find the best—”

“So we agree,” Dorothy interrupted, “school is b-o-r-i-n-g. And frankly, so is the Emerald Palace. Tin and Scare are doing really important things, but they’re not around to keep me company. The Lion is sweet, but he’s not the sharpest tack in the box, and besides, his breath is terrible. And the Munchkins are . . . short. For one thing. And so docile!” Dorothy rolled her eyes. “It’s like none of them have ever had a single original idea in their entire lives. They’re great servants, obviously, but as far as fit companions for a queen . . . Right now, there just isn’t anyone in the palace who meets that description. I’m very choosy about people I spend time with, you know. Which is why I wanted to meet you.”

“Me?” Polly asked, vaguely pleased and flattered.

“Yes, of course. The stories about you are absolutely legendary. How pretty you are, obviously, but also how much fun. I would absolutely love to learn how to surf. I’ve never really been swimming, so that might be a problem, but can you teach me? Or we could just wander around the islands, hang out on the beach, tease the tourists—you know, that kind of thing. We could go on little tours of Oz. Talk about boys. You know, girl stuff.”

“I was thinking of taking a trip to the bazaars at the Fringe,” Polly offered. Dorothy was definitely not into the same kinds of things Polly was, but she seemed fun all the same. It was good to spend time with different kinds of people.

Dorothy clapped her hands together. “That’s perfect! Just the kind of thing I’d love. Oh, Polly, it’s so good to meet a girl after my own heart! I know we’re going to be the very best of friends.”

Polly had never had a best friend before. Or a friend at all, really. The Sprites were sweet, but they weren’t exactly friends. Ozma was family, but at the end of the day, they were two sides of the same rainbow. And Bright . . . well, friend wasn’t exactly the word for whatever Bright was. Plus, he’d vanished, and who knew if he’d return. Polly had a feeling he’d be back, but she wasn’t the type to sit around moping. If he dropped by Rainbow Falls again while she was away, it would be his loss.

“We can leave whenever you want,” Polly said. “But first, do you want to see Rainbow Falls? We can go swimming.”

Dorothy clapped a palm to her forehead. “I’m such a ninny! I forgot my bathing costume!”

“I don’t know what that is,” Polly said in confusion. “Everything you need we have here, I’m sure.”

“I’m not like you, Polly,” Dorothy said solemnly. “Where I’m from we don’t go around in the—you know. Nude. It’s just not done.”

“You’re in Rainbow Falls now,” Polly pointed out. “You’d look weirder dressed in the water than not.”

Dorothy frowned. “I suppose you’re right. It’s good to try out new things, after all.”

Polly nodded, pleased. “Exactly.” Here she was, being a good influence on the interim ruler of Oz. Who could call her irresponsible now? She jumped to her feet. “Let’s go look around!”

“I just have to change first,” Dorothy said, and then paused. Polly looked at her expectantly.

“In private?” Dorothy clarified.

“Oh, sure,” Polly said. “Carmine, why don’t you put Dorothy in the suite next to my own rooms. And make sure there’s plenty of food and fresh water for the dog.”

Dorothy was gone for a surprisingly long time. Settling in, most likely, Polly thought to herself. After all, how long could it possibly take to get dressed? Why you’d need different outfits for different activities was beyond her. But everyone did things his or her own way, and she reminded herself to be open-minded.

Finally, Dorothy reappeared. She looked exactly the same, except that her dress—just as severely cut—was a bit shorter, and the fabric seemed more summery somehow. She was carrying a parasol and a picnic hamper, out from which Toto’s head poked. “My outdoors ensemble,” Dorothy explained. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

“Not at all,” Polly said politely. “Just let me fetch my unicorn. He’s probably asleep under the bed.”

Dorothy looked surprised—and maybe a little eager. “You have a unicorn? Aren’t they awfully hard to tame? I’ve always wanted a unicorn.”

“Of course I have a unicorn. Unicorn!” Polly called sweetly. “Oh, unicorn!” She waited, but no sign of Heathcliff. With a sigh, she unearthed a jar of his favorite rainbow kibble from under one of the throne room’s cushions and rattled it. In seconds, Heathcliff came bounding into the room. Toto barked furiously and then hid inside the hamper.

“Your horn’s crooked again,” Polly chided him, retying its bow. She offered the jar to Dorothy. “Do you want to feed him? He loves these. The Sprites make them in-house. Artisanal rainbow chews.”

Dorothy’s eyes were huge with terror. “Oh . . . that’s very sweet of you but I’m all right. I thought you said he was a unicorn?”

“Yes, and he’s a very good unicorn,” Polly said affably. “He loves to be brushed; you can do that too if you like.”

Dorothy shook her head wildly. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude on your . . . routine.” Toto’s barks, muffled by the hamper lid, echoed through the throne room.

“Toto!” Dorothy hissed, rapping on the hamper. “Don’t be rude. Polly’s—unicorn—is friendly. I think.”

“He’s only ferocious when he’s protecting me,” Polly said, scratching Heathcliff under the chin.

“How wonderful,” Dorothy said faintly. “You must be so pleased.”

Polly adjusted Heathcliff’s horn one more time until it stood at a more regal angle from his head. He looked up at her lovingly and licked her forearm with his raspy pink tongue.

“I think we’re all ready!” Polly said cheerfully. “Let’s take the carpet, shall we? There’s plenty of room.”

“The carpet?” Dorothy asked. But Polly had already snapped her fingers, and within seconds a huge tapestry woven out of thousands of different-colored threads floated into the room. Grays shaded into blues; greens transformed into yellows; oranges flared into reds and pinks. Polly was used to it, but Dorothy was dazzled by the array of shades and textures. “Wow,” she breathed. The carpet waved one corner as if it could hear her, and then formed a set of steps that led to the ground. Dorothy ascended them daintily and settled herself at the carpet’s center with Toto in her lap. Heathcliff, ignoring the stairs, leapt up with a single bound. Polly climbed up after him. Heathcliff butted her shoulder with his huge head, knocking his horn askew again.

“You galumph,” she said to him affectionately. “Carpet, take us around Rainbow Falls, please.”

“It talks?” Dorothy breathed in astonishment.

“Of course it doesn’t talk,” Polly said, surprised. “It’s a carpet. It just flies.”

“But you just— Never mind,” Dorothy said, patting Toto. Toto growled. “Hush,” she chided him as the carpet floated out an open window.

Showing visitors the splendors of Rainbow Falls from the air was one of Polly’s favorite things to do. She had spent her entire life there and even she never tired of the rainbow bridges and gleaming clouds, the splendor of Rainbow Falls, and the cloud moat that surrounded the Crystal Palace. Rainbow Falls was one of the most beautiful places in all of Oz. Dorothy gasped in delight as a flock of sky anemones floated past them, their multicolored tentacles trailing silvery dust. The rainbow mists were especially thick today, and the rich, deep calls of cloud surfers—huge, elusive, birdlike creatures with shimmering, iridescent scales—echoed eerily through the clouds.

“It’s beautiful,” Dorothy exclaimed. She was looking around her as if she couldn’t even begin to take everything in. “I can’t believe you live here. It’s like Hawaii except with more colors.”

“It’s like what?” Polly asked.

“Oh, just somewhere in the Other Place. I’ve never actually been. But I’ve seen pictures. It’s supposed to be paradise.”

“It’s very nice here,” Polly agreed.

“It’s more than nice,” Dorothy said. “I could stay here forever.”

“What’s it like in the Other Place?” Polly asked, curious.

“Where I’m from it’s just horrible,” Dorothy said. “Colorless grass as far as you can see, miserable weather, locusts the size of boulders, boring old farm chores. It’s nothing like Oz at all. Why, if Aunt Em and Uncle Henry hadn’t . . .” She trailed off, looking suddenly sad. “Of course, they can’t anymore,” she said quietly. “They were killed, you know. My only family.”

“I’m so sorry,” Polly said. Fairies didn’t have family, exactly. Sure, Ozma was her cousin, but all fairies were related to one another in the same kind of general way. She had no idea what it would be like to lose a family member, but she imagined it would be hard.

“It was a terrible accident,” Dorothy said sadly. “They never even got to see Kansas again.”

“It happened here?” Polly asked. She vaguely remembered Ozma saying something about them when she was droning on about all things Emerald City, but as with most things Ozma told her, it must have slipped in one ear and right out the other.

Dorothy nodded. “I don’t want to blame anyone, but Ozma could have . . . She could have helped more.”

“It’s not like Ozma to stand aside when something bad happens,” Polly said.

“She did this time,” Dorothy said darkly.

“Hmm,” Polly said. She didn’t like the serious turn the conversation was taking. “That’s too bad. What should we do next?”

But Dorothy’s blue eyes were filling with tears. “Sometimes I miss them so much! Oh, Polly, I wish you hadn’t brought this up! It’s still so hard for me to talk about.”

“But I didn’t—” Polly tried to remember the conversation. She hadn’t said anything about Dorothy’s aunt and uncle. Had she? She didn’t think so. But she couldn’t be sure. And now poor Dorothy was horribly upset. She tried to think of what Ozma would do in this situation. Even though Dorothy seemed to have some discontented feelings toward Ozma, remedying tears was definitely something her cousin would know how to handle better than her. “There, there,” she said, patting Dorothy awkwardly on the back. Toto yipped from his basket. Heathcliff licked Dorothy’s knee and she shrieked.

“Get him off me!”

“Heathcliff!” Polly tried to be stern, but she knew the unicorn was only trying to help. “He means well. He can be a little enthusiastic.”

“I’d like to rest now,” Dorothy said. Her eyes were shut tightly. She seemed entirely distraught.

“Oh dear,” Polly said under her breath. “Carpet, please take us back to the palace.”

As soon as the carpet dropped them off, Dorothy grabbed Toto and hurried off to her room. Polly watched her go, slightly confused. She’d heard so much about Dorothy the Witchslayer. Every citizen of Oz had; Dorothy was a legend. She’d freed Oz and its people from the grip of a terrible tyrant. She’d unmasked the Wizard as a charlatan. She’d ensured that her closest companions received extraordinary gifts.

But whatever Polly had expected from the real-life Dorothy, this wasn’t exactly it. She seemed almost fragile. Certainly more delicate than someone who’d fearlessly taken on wicked witches and all-powerful wizards. Still, Dorothy was from the Other Place. Maybe heroines were constructed differently there.

She tried and failed to remember what Ozma had said about her. She couldn’t remember her cousin’s words any more than she could remember how many tides had come in that morning. Lost in thought, Polly was startled back to the present by a loud rumble from Heathcliff’s stomach. She laughed, forgetting about Dorothy, and gave him a scratch behind the ears. “You’re right, it’s time for a snack,” she said. “And then let’s go back to the beach.”

Heathcliff purred in agreement.

FOUR

The next morning, Polly got up early to surf. By the time she returned to the palace, the sun was high in the sky. She let her mind wander back to the night she went surfing with Bright: the moon, the warm breeze, his abs . . . She blinked out of it when she reached the shore where Dorothy had arranged herself on a picnic blanket under her parasol. Toto frolicked through the palace gardens while Dorothy clapped her hands in amusement. The whole scene was as charming as something in a painting. “Polly!” Dorothy called, catching sight of her. “I’m trying to teach Toto to fetch. But he won’t listen to a thing I say!”

Polly smiled. Dorothy’s mood of the previous day was clearly forgotten. She must have just been tired after her long journey from the Emerald City.

“Doesn’t he speak?”

Dorothy looked startled. “Why would he speak?”

“All the animals in Oz do,” Polly said.

“Well, he’s only a dog,” Dorothy said dubiously, looking at Toto. He looked back and forth between the two of them, his tongue lolling, and then barked and ran around in a circle.

“See?” Polly said. “He knows we’re talking about him.”

“Maybe Oz is making him smarter,” Dorothy said, pleased. “I mean, he’s no unicorn, but . . .” Did Dorothy look like she was glowering? “Anyway, when do we leave?”

“Leave?”

“You said you’d take me to the Fringe. To the bazaar.”

“Oh, right,” Polly said. She’d already forgotten about that plan, the way she forgot about most of the plans she made. Plans were nice, but doing whatever you wanted whenever you felt like it was even better. “I don’t know, in a day or two?” The sun was warm, the rainbows were beautiful, and Polly was in no hurry to go anywhere. She knelt down on Dorothy’s picnic blanket.

“A day or two from yesterday?” Dorothy asked. “So you mean today? Wonderful! Let me just go pack. Is it very hot next to the Deadly Desert?”

“Warmer than here,” Polly said, smiling. Dorothy certainly had a lot of energy. It was hard to keep up with her. But maybe it was good for Polly, being around someone so completely different. Dorothy was very . . . driven. She was already running inside with Toto trailing after her, yapping excitedly. Polly closed her eyes. The blooming flowers in the garden hummed with buzzlebees. Maybe she would just lie down for a few moments. Her eyelids were so heavy . . .

“Polly!” Dorothy cried. Polly sat bolt upright, startled out of her nap. “Are you ready? I am!”

Polly rubbed sleep out of her eyes and then did a double take. Dorothy had enlisted Carmine and several other Sprites to carry her baggage out onto the lawn. Suitcases were piled on top of one another in teetering stacks. An array of hatboxes made a listing tower. Carmine’s arms were piled high with coats, scarves, and dresses that apparently hadn’t fit in Dorothy’s luggage.

“Are you moving somewhere?” Polly asked.

Dorothy giggled. “No, silly, I just packed for our trip. I have to bring my royal wardrobe, don’t I? I don’t think I need these coats, though, do I? Now that I’m Queen of Oz, I have to have the exact right thing to wear at all times!”

“I don’t think it ever gets cold near the Deadly Desert,” Polly said, still trying to assimilate the spectacle of Dorothy’s baggage.

“Oh, goody! In that case, you can put those back in my room,” Dorothy directed Carmine. He nodded obediently and traipsed back toward the palace. “I’m surprised you aren’t packed, Polly!”

“What would I bring?” Polly asked, genuinely surprised. She was wearing clothes. There were things to eat and drink along the way. What else could she possibly need?

Dorothy laughed. “Well, if you ever become real royalty, you’ll see what I mean. I wasn’t always so regal. Once upon a time I only had a few dresses, and they were downright hideous! Why, even Aunt Em and Uncle Henry used to—” And then her lower lip began to quiver.

Polly knew that look. It meant tears. Polly didn’t do tears. The only water she was interested in was out there in the Falls.

“I’ll get the carpet!” Polly interrupted quickly. “It’s the best way to travel.”

Dorothy brightened, her tears forgotten. “I wish I had a flying carpet of my own. Don’t you think a queen should have her own flying carpet? In the Other Place, we have airplanes, but I never got to—”

“Here it is now!” Polly said before Dorothy upset herself again. The poor girl was so traumatized by her recent loss she obviously couldn’t help revisiting it again and again. Polly had sort of planned on seeing the bazaars by herself—she was a fan of solo travel, nobody’s agenda but her own—but Dorothy was sweet, sort of, and so was her little dog, and she definitely needed cheering up. Distracting people was Polly’s specialty. Besides, it wasn’t like the Fringe was going anywhere. If Polly liked it, she could always go back.

Carmine helped load Dorothy’s remaining suitcases on the carpet and, together with Toto and Heathcliff, the girls took off. The carpet made a noise of disgust at the combined weight of people, pets, and luggage, but Polly quietly told it to contain its attitude. Dorothy was a guest. If she wanted to bring along the entire Emerald City, it was up to her. Privately, Polly wondered what anyone could possibly do with that much stuff, but it was none of her business when you got down to it.

Dorothy turned out to be an ideal tourist. Flying was the best way to see Oz, of course, from the green-and-gold-patchwork farmlands of Munchkin Country to the deep emerald of the Forest of the Beasts. Polly pointed out the queendom of the winged monkeys as they floated past and Dorothy gave a little shiver. “I didn’t have the best time with them at first,” she said. “They turned out to be helpful in the end, but poor Scare! I don’t think he’ll ever forget that ordeal.” Polly nodded politely, not entirely sure what Dorothy was talking about—and, truth be told, too lazy to ask.

Dorothy chattered on as they flew, telling Polly about her extensive adventures in Oz—“Oh, look!” she exclaimed. “There’s the poppy field! Why, the Lion was so passed out we had to enlist a whole army of field mice, it was ridiculous!”—and commenting happily on all the places she hadn’t yet seen. It was fun, Polly thought, to see Oz through a fresh set of eyes. There were so many places Dorothy hadn’t been yet, despite all the traveling she’d done the first time she came to Oz.

“I just want to go everywhere!” Dorothy said happily. “This is so much fun! Way better than that dreary old palace. I swear, the Munchkins will complain about anything.”

“The tourists are the same way,” Polly commiserated. “The rainbows aren’t colorful enough, the beaches are scratchy, there aren’t enough dazzleberries . . . it’s ridiculous what people will find to make a fuss about.”

Dorothy shook her head in disgust. “So ungrateful,” she agreed. “Why, the Munchkins have it so good. But to hear them talk, it’s like even the most basic request is total tyranny. And don’t even get me started on the Winkies! It’s no wonder Ozma needed a break. I’m sure she got sick of all their whining.”

For a moment, Polly was puzzled again. Ozma had never seemed to mind listening to her subjects’ complaints and needs. It was one of the things Polly found completely unfathomable about her cousin—how she could stand to hear people go on and on about crop failures and water rights and boundary disputes. Polly herself had no idea why anyone would care about such things, let alone care enough to listen to other people talk about them. But it just wasn’t like Ozma at all to run off and leave someone else in charge, especially a newcomer to Oz. Maybe she’d finally just lost her patience, like Dorothy said. If Polly had to run all of Oz, she would have given up long ago.

But with Dorothy off gallivanting around, where did that leave the rest of the country?

Polly pushed those thoughts aside. Oz would be fine. Rainbow Falls had never suffered when Polly took off before.

Not that she’d noticed, anyway. It was true she didn’t always pay the best attention to what was going on in her own kingdom, but she was a firm believer in live and let live.

But she couldn’t quite let it go. It was a new feeling for her.

“Funny,” she mused. “When Munchkins come to Rainbow Falls they are always the most fun, the loudest, the most adventurous. . . .”

“That’s because they’re on vacation, silly. Try making them brush your hair a hundred strokes a night and see how fun they are.”

Polly shrugged, the closest she ever came to an argument unless she was with Ozma. Still, she knew what it felt like to want to have fun while others were being too serious.

Dorothy smiled. “I just want everyone to be happy all the time. Is that so wrong?”

Polly shrugged again, feeling better now that Dorothy had stopped talking about the Munchkins.

“I’m thinking of making it official.”

“Official? Making what official?” Polly asked.

“Happiness, of course! I was thinking it might be my first decree.”

“You want to make a—a—Happiness Decree?” Polly laughed, and Dorothy pouted.

“Why is that funny?”

But Polly couldn’t help but think about what Bright had said—how Polly was responsible for bringing happiness to so many. And about how Ozma spent her every waking moment trying to ensure that her people were taken care of. Polly didn’t think that happiness was something you could ensure by governing like Ozma, or by decreeing it like Dorothy. True happiness was letting things take their own course. Again, she thought of Bright.

Dorothy crossed her arms over her ample chest now.

Polly decided to change the subject to one of her favorites: boys.

“Speaking of happiness, the Emerald City has some of the most handsome boys in all of Oz. Please tell me that you have had time to meet some.”

Dorothy’s face lit up. “Back home, the boys were so very country. And let’s just say they did not have the good sense to see me under those ugly dresses I was forced to wear.”

“Well, they can see you now,” Polly said, nodding at Dorothy’s cleavage, which was on perpetual display.

“Yes, they can.” Dorothy laughed.

Polly exhaled—she hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath. Her heart was beating fast, too. She must have been nervous. She had never felt that way before, not even with Ozma.

“Look!” Dorothy exclaimed, pointing at the horizon. Polly could see the multicolored assortment of caravans, tents, and stalls that made up the chaotic, bustling bazaar of the Fringe. As they floated closer, Toto sniffed the air. Exotic spices and rich perfumes wafted up from the market. Hundreds of people—some of them ordinary-looking Munchkins or Winkies or other citizens of Oz, others dressed in wild and bizarre robes and costumes that made their identities impossible to guess—bustled back and forth between the countless stalls where vendors hawked everything from potions guaranteed to ensure eternal life to fresh vegetables brought in from Munchkin Country.

“I’ve never seen anything like this in my entire life!” Dorothy said in delight. The carpet landed at the edge of the bazaar and Heathcliff leapt lightly over Toto, causing the little dog to bark furiously again.

Polly gave Heathcliff a dirty look. “Don’t harass our guests,” she chided. Heathcliff only purred.

Dorothy looked around expectantly. “Well?” she asked.

Polly blinked. “Well what?”

“What should I do with my luggage?” Dorothy explained. “I’m the queen, after all. I can’t possibly carry this myself!”

“Oh,” Polly said. “I suppose the carpet can carry it for you. Carpet, do you mind?”

The carpet waved one corner indignantly.

“I’d be ever so grateful,” Dorothy said sweetly. The carpet subsided.

“It’s sulking,” Polly whispered, “but it will do what you ask. It just wants to make a point.”

“Oz is so fun!” Dorothy giggled. “Imagine, a cranky flying carpet!”

“They’re all a bit fickle,” Polly said. “Runs in the family, I’m afraid.”

With the carpet reluctantly floating along behind them, laden down with Dorothy’s baggage, the foursome made their way toward the bazaar. At first people looked at them with irritation—Dorothy’s luggage really did take up a lot of room—but then they did a double take when they caught sight of Dorothy. She pretended not to notice, but Polly could tell she adored the attention. She smiled and waved. Whispers spread outward from the little group like ripples in a pond. “It’s the Witchslayer!” Polly overheard. “The stories are true! The Witchslayer has returned!”

“Witchslayer! Witchslayer!” Soon people were cheering Dorothy openly. Munchkins ran forward, offering to carry her bags. Others reached out to touch Toto’s fur or brush their fingers against the hem of Dorothy’s dress. Dorothy beamed, drinking in their adoration. She was surrounded by a crowd of admirers. At first, she tried to buy various trinkets, but the merchants refused to accept payment, pressing their wares on her with exclamations of gratitude. It wasn’t long before Dorothy was simply taking whatever she wanted from each stall, loading down the poor carpet with a pile of treasures.

“Oz is such a wonderful place!” she called out. Polly smiled and stayed with Dorothy for a while, enjoying her new friend’s delight. After a bit, though, she grew bored of the spectacle and wandered off toward a stall selling beautiful silks and other fabrics. This close to the Deadly Desert, the light was hot and clear, far different from the balmy, mist-diffused sunlight in Rainbow Falls. Polly let her robe slip from her shoulders, enjoying the heat on her skin. The fairies had crossed the Deadly Desert who knew how long ago; maybe Polly should try a sojourn in the dunes for her next adventure. Ordinary people didn’t survive the crossing, but surely just a brief trip through the desert’s edge would be harmless for Polly. After all, she had plenty of fairy blood. . . .

Lost in her reverie, Polly didn’t notice Dorothy’s shrieks until Dorothy was standing right behind her. “Polly! Polly! Polly! I’ve been looking for you for hours!”

“Has it really been that long?” Polly asked, surprised. Dorothy looked terrible. Her dress was dirty and her hair was a mess. A bad sunburn was spreading across her cheeks and collarbone. Even Toto looked a little frazzled.

“Yes, it’s been ages,” Dorothy said crossly. “I did all my shopping, my feet are killing me, I’ve wandered all over this market a thousand times, and I’m ready to go somewhere cool and change out of this dress. It was all wrong for the weather; I don’t know why you didn’t warn me.”

“But the market is huge,” Polly said, puzzled. “You couldn’t begin to see the whole thing in one day—”

“Polly,” Dorothy said, her lower lip quivering, “can’t you see I’m just miserable? How can you think about yourself at a time like this?”

“I’m sorry,” Polly said, genuinely alarmed to see Dorothy so upset. “I’m a fairy, you know, we’re not always the most sensitive creatures. Let’s find you someplace to rest.”

Dorothy looked around, her tears forgotten. “Isn’t there a palace or something? A hotel, at least? I could go for a nice Munchkin dinner buffet.”

Polly shook her head. “The carpet makes a very good tent if you ask it politely,” she explained, “but this isn’t like Rainbow Falls. People don’t come here to vacation, they come here to—”

“A tent? Outdoors?” Dorothy’s eyes were huge and swimming with tears. “But how will I rest?”

Oh dear, Polly thought to herself. This would never do. Some of Dorothy’s quirks were starting to get a little exasperating. Maybe this was just how people from the Other Place behaved. But it was true, she reminded herself, what she’d told Dorothy about being a fairy. She wasn’t always tuned in to other people’s needs.

“We could go back to the Rainbow Citadel, I suppose,” Polly offered. “I can ask the carpet to hurry. Although it would be an awful shame to cut our trip short like—”

“Thank you, Polly, that will do very nicely,” Dorothy said curtly. There was an edge in her voice Polly had never heard before. As if Dorothy was issuing a command, not making a request.

Polly shrugged it off. Dorothy was tired. She should have known better than to take the girl on such a long trip without knowing her better. “If you want,” she said. “I just need to find my unicorn.”

“Can’t he find his own way home?” Dorothy exclaimed petulantly.

“I suppose so,” Polly said dubiously. “But the last time I left him somewhere he got into all sorts of trouble with a Munchkin farmer’s herd of cows—”

“Polly, I really wish you wouldn’t go on so,” Dorothy said, smoothing her hair and frowning. “It’s not very considerate.”

“Sorry,” Polly said. “Unicorn!” she called. “Unicorn! Come here, unicorn!” After a moment, she rolled her eyes. “HEATHCLIFF!” she screamed. Dorothy clapped her hands over her ears with an exaggerated wince. But Heathcliff came bounding out from behind a nearby stall, licking his chops. He smelled suspiciously of barbecue sauce.

“I hope you paid for whatever you ate,” Polly said sternly. “And look at you, you’ve lost your horn. Now I’m going to have to make you another one.”

Heathcliff looked up at her adoringly and purred.

“He sounds like a tractor,” Dorothy muttered. “And he smells.” Toto barked as if in agreement.

“He does his best,” Polly said mildly. “He can’t help his unicorn nature.”

Dorothy only snorted.

Polly summoned the carpet, which was sunning itself in a nearby square. It was even more laden down than it had been previously thanks to the many gifts Dorothy had helped herself to, but Polly herself hadn’t done any shopping, so she told herself it all evened out. “Poor carpet,” she said sympathetically when Dorothy wasn’t looking. The girls climbed aboard. Dorothy clutched Toto tightly, as if the little dog might leap out of her arms. Heathcliff turned around in several circles, licked his rear with gusto, and then curled up with his tail across his nose. Within minutes, he was snoring loudly. Dorothy sighed pointedly but didn’t say anything.

“If you don’t mind, carpet, we’d like to get back quickly,” Polly told the carpet. It gave off a distinct air of martyrdom as it rose into the air and carried them back toward Rainbow Falls at a brisk clip.

Dorothy’s head was lolling to one side; every few seconds she would start awake with a jerk, but soon she tilted over completely and was fast asleep against Heathcliff’s shoulder. Toto gave Polly a baleful look and settled down on his haunches next to his mistress, looking alert and watchful. Polly ignored the dog, watching the countryside flash by below and lamenting the missed opportunities of their brief trip. She’d wanted so badly to see the sun rise over the desert, to feel the night chill lift and turn into the ovenlike heat of late morning, to find a desert-loving boy or three to teach her all the constellations and bring her mulled dust wine . . .

A huge snore ripped through the cool evening air. Polly glanced over; Dorothy’s mouth was hanging open, and she was snoring even more loudly than Heathcliff. Even Toto was asleep now. Polly smiled. Her guest was charming, in her own way. But awfully demanding. This was why Polly wasn’t cut out to be a ruler. She just didn’t like having to constantly take care of other people. Maybe Dorothy would like to spend a few days at Rainbow Falls by herself. Polly could enlist several of the Sprites to keep her busy and carry her things about while Polly snuck off for a little side trip somewhere. Maybe climb one of the Moving Mountains, or soak in the hot springs in the far hills of Winkie Country.

They were approaching Rainbow Falls quickly now. As always, the towering falls and brilliant colors lifted Polly’s heart. Who could possibly be unhappy in a place like Rainbow Falls? As far as Polly was concerned, it was the most sacred place in all of Oz. No matter how far she traveled, it would always be her home, the place where her heart belonged. She was lucky to be a part of it.

Dorothy mumbled in her sleep and stirred restlessly as the carpet began its descent, but she didn’t wake, even when the carpet landed a bit gracelessly on the grounds of the Rainbow Citadel. Today was an especially fine day; the sun refracted through the rainbow mists, sending dazzling multicolored light across the crystal facets and ornate carvings of the citadel. Heathcliff delicately extricated himself from Dorothy’s snoring embrace without waking her, and bounded away, chasing rainbow shadows until he disappeared in the swirling mist. Toto growled in his sleep; one of his paws twitched.

Polly considered waking her guests, but they were a bit more appealing asleep at the moment than they were awake. The more that she thought about it, the more irritated she was at having Dorothy dictate when they’d had to return home. Maybe Dorothy would be in a better mood when she woke up. Polly certainly hoped so.

She left Dorothy and Toto sleeping on the lawn, surrounded by piles of suitcases. The carpet would be irate at not being allowed to go back to its nest until Dorothy woke up, but it was only a carpet. It would recover. As glad as she was to see Rainbow Falls again, the halls of the citadel seemed suddenly overly familiar. She wanted adventure, travel, distant lands, and new faces. She wanted—

Polly pushed open the door to her rooms and stopped short.

FIVE

“It’s you,” she said.

Bright was lounging on her bed, shirtless. He looked even tanner and more muscular than he had when he’d left her on the beach. His hair was longer, and the angles of his face were sharper.

“I let myself in,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Polly hid a smile. “I’m extremely upset,” she said solemnly. “You’re going to have to spend a long time apologizing.”

“Is that so,” he said with a grin.

“Mmm-hmm,” Polly said, throwing herself on him. “You are.”

He did. Quite extensively.

Afterward, Polly gave a deep sigh of contentment and nestled her head on Bright’s firm chest. “You should break in all the time,” she said with a yawn. “You’re good at saying you’re sorry.”

Bright laughed, tangling his fingers in her long hair. “Sounds good to me, babe. You’re a pretty special girl.”

“I know,” Polly said.

“Where were you, anyway? I looked all over the Falls for you. The Sprites wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“Went to the Fringe with Dorothy,” Polly said. “Not worth the trouble. I could have spent that time with you and your apologies. Especially if you’re going to leave again in the morning.”

But instead of laughing, Bright stiffened. “Dorothy?” He sat up, dislodging Polly’s head, and looked at her. “Not Dorothy the Witchslayer?”

“The one and only,” Polly confirmed. “She’s back. Did you know?”

“Yeah, I’ve been hearing some things,” Bright said. She didn’t know him all that well, but she’d never seen him like this before. All his laughing, sardonic manner had fallen away. He looked serious—and worried. Funny how that feeling seemed to be going around since Dorothy’s arrival at Rainbow Falls.

“Like what?”

“Like she’s bad news,” he said. “Like Queen Ozma is missing. Like Dorothy’s been killing people. Like the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman are doing some seriously disturbing shit.”

“Killing people?” Polly laughed out loud. “That’s ridiculous. This is Oz. People don’t kill people. Killing is for the Wicked.”

“She already killed a witch. Why do you think she is called the Witchslayer?”

“That was an accident. She can’t help where a tornado landed her house. Dorothy can be a little high maintenance, but she’s just a kid helping out while Ozma takes a break.”

“Is that what she told you?”

“It makes sense. Ozma’s been so busy lately, she must be exhausted.”

But he shook his head. “Pol, it’s more than that. It has to be. Think about it. Who brought her back? And why? Oz isn’t in any danger. At least, it wasn’t. But all the stories I’ve been hearing are really, really bad. That she’s completely power-hungry, that nobody really knows where Ozma is, that Dorothy is trying to take over Oz by force. While you were off seeing the sights—”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I just think you should keep a better eye on your kingdom, is all.”

Now Polly was angry. “You’ve been in Rainbow Falls for all of a few weeks, you take off whenever you feel like it, and you want to try and tell me how to run my own kingdom?”

“No, babe, no,” he said, trying now to calm her down. “Come on, you know I didn’t mean it like that. I just think—”

“I don’t know what you mean because I barely know you,” Polly said, sitting up, her back ramrod straight. “And I think you have a lot of nerve trying to boss me around in my own palace.”

“I’m not—”

She stood up, gathering her cloud silk coverlet around her. “Don’t you have waves to catch?” she said coolly.

Bright took the hint. He held up his hands in a placating gesture and slid out of her bed, picking his clothes up off the floor. “Okay, Polly, sorry. I really am. I’m just worried, is all. I don’t know why she’d come here or what she wants if everything I’ve been hearing is true. This place is really special. And . . .” He paused. “And so are you. I don’t want anything bad to happen.”

“Nothing bad ever happens in Rainbow Falls.”

“You remember when we were on the water that first night? You sent a wave to help me—it was a reflex. You didn’t let me fall. I’m not telling you what to do, I don’t want to rule. But if I see your board about to go under, I have to say something. It’s my reflex. Surfer code. We gotta look out for each other.”

When he said “reflex” he looked at her intently. He said “reflex,” but she heard something more. Normally, this was the part where she would get up or protest, or have a sudden need to go get a snack. But instead, she felt the urge to climb back into bed and lay her head on his chest so she could listen to his heart.

But she couldn’t let him tell her how to run her kingdom. And she wasn’t going to let him rule her heart.

“When I corrected that wave, I did it so I could get a better view of your abs.”

Bright didn’t blink. “I know you care about more than my abs, Polychrome. And I know how much you love Rainbow Falls. It’s okay to show it.”

The words hung between them for a beat. And she could feel her heart racing with a mixture of anger and longing.

If he stayed a minute more, she would give in to the latter. And she couldn’t have that. He wasn’t going to insult her guests, and he certainly wasn’t going to tell her how to run the kingdom she’d ruled successfully for years. “I need some rest,” she said finally. “And some time to think.”

“Can I . . . Am I . . . welcome to return?” Bright seemed genuinely earnest.

“If you start practicing your apology now,” she said. “Maybe.”

He nodded and smiled briefly, but his expression turned serious again in an instant. “I mean what I said, Polly. Please be careful. That girl isn’t what she seems.”

“Out,” Polly said. “Before I change my mind.”

He smiled again for real this time. “I’ll be seeing you.”

“If you’re lucky,” Polly said, and threw a pillow at him, but he had already let himself out the door, and her missile landed on the polished lacewood with an unsatisfying thump.

Try as she might, Polly couldn’t get Bright’s words out of her head. Over the next few days, as she showed her new friend more of the splendors of Rainbow Falls—its magical beaches, the fern-frond ravines and jungly places, the mysterious and dazzling creatures that floated through its mists and swam in its rainbows—she paid close attention to Dorothy’s words and gestures. There was nothing sinister about the girl, Polly told herself. True, she was a little spoiled, obviously used to getting her own way. She was likely to fly into a tantrum if Polly said the slightest thing wrong. But she was also far from home, in a completely different world. And most of the time, she was fun to be around, enthusiastic and giggly.

The girls spent their evenings fixing each other’s hair, or trying out Dorothy’s extensive nail polish collection, or conjuring up more and more elaborate outfits. When the Sprites came to Polly with various problems or questions, she waved them away. How often did she have a guest as illustrious as Dorothy the Witchslayer? The kingdom could wait.

One day, as Dorothy and Polly were sunning themselves on Indigo Beach—Dorothy had refused to learn to surf, but she had at least built up a good base for a tan—Dorothy turned to Polly, pillowing her head on her hand. “Polly, will you teach me magic?”

“What do you mean?” Polly asked. “Don’t you know magic already?”

“I mean special magic.” Dorothy nodded toward the Rainbow Sea. “Rainbow magic.” She paused. “Fairy magic.”

A chill flashed briefly through Polly. She suddenly remembered Bright’s warning: she’s power-hungry. “Fairy magic is for fairies, Dorothy,” she said neutrally.

Dorothy pouted. “It’s not some big secret,” she said. “Or if it is, I don’t understand why you can’t just tell me. What’s the big deal?”

“It’s just that you have to be a fairy to use fairy magic,” Polly explained. “Ordinary people can’t just—”

“You think I’m ordinary?”

“Of course not, Dorothy. It’s just that—”

“You don’t trust me,” Dorothy said. Her lower lip began its all-too-familiar quiver. “You don’t trust me! After all the time we’ve spent together! Polly, I was starting to think of you like a sister, and now you spring this on me?”

“I trust you, Dorothy,” Polly said. “But I can’t teach you something you can’t learn.”

Dorothy rolled over on her side, her back to Polly. When she spoke again her voice was muffled, as if through tears. “I’ve never had a real friend,” she said. “Nothing like you, Polly. It hurts so much to know that you think so little of me.”

“I’m sorry, Dorothy,” Polly said. But for the first time, she began to wonder if Dorothy’s routine was just that—a routine. If perhaps Dorothy was far more calculating than she seemed.

Had she come to Rainbow Falls to learn magic, and was she just pretending to want to spend time with Polly? And if she did just want to learn magic, what did she need it for?

Could Bright be partly right? It wasn’t possible that Dorothy was a murderer. That was a rumor too ridiculous to even consider. But maybe, just maybe, there was something to all these other stories he’d alluded to.

Polly tried not to let the worry eat at her for the rest of the afternoon. Dorothy dropped the subject of magic—although, knowing Dorothy, not for long—and was back to her usual giggly self in an instant. The girls swam in the purple waves, snacked on sunfruit, and got drunk before dinner on dazzleberry cordial.

Dorothy got drunk, anyway. Polly just sipped at her glass, watchful. And when Dorothy’s head lolled on her shoulders and the glass dropped from her fingers, hitting the floor with a thud, Polly tiptoed out of the Crystal Palace and on to the front terrace. “Carpet!” she called softly. “I need a favor!”

The carpet had reacted to her most recent summonses with dread; Dorothy couldn’t manage to go anywhere without at least a dozen bags. But when it saw that Polly was alone, it waved a corner happily. “No, Heathcliff isn’t coming,” she told it. “He’s off hunting somewhere, and anyway I shouldn’t be long. Take me to the Emerald City, dear carpet.”

The carpet lifted her up toward the sky, and Polly settled in for the ride.

It was time to find out just how much truth was behind Bright’s rumors.

SIX

Polly landed just inside the walls of the Emerald City. The carpet rolled itself up neatly and tucked itself away in an inconspicuous corner. “No running off,” Polly told it sternly. “I need to go back, too.” The carpet looked sheepish. It had a bad habit of going on solo adventures just when Polly needed it—ironic, if she thought about it, but of course she didn’t.

Nothing seemed out of place in the Emerald City. Not at first, anyway. The streets were just as neat and tidy as ever. The houses lay in orderly rows, their gardens well tended. Beyond a central square, the Road of Yellow Brick gleamed with a lustrous aura, just as it had always done. Throngs of Munchkins bustled about their business, shopping and working and sweeping and cooking and doing all the mundane tiresome sorts of things ordinary people did (Polly had given up chores long ago). Everything looked exactly as it always had.

But still, Polly could tell that something was wrong. She couldn’t put her finger on it at first, and then she realized: no one would meet her eyes. No one said hello. There was no friendly chatter, no neighbor greeting neighbor with a cheerful wave, no children playing in the street, no housewives gossiping over the back fence as they pinned up their laundry to dry.

No one talked to Polly at all. The Munchkins parted ways for her as seamlessly as a wave splitting, but none of them would look at her. It was as if she was a ghost.

And everywhere, Polly saw fear.

Not the kind of fear that she was used to: a tourist who’d lost track of her child, a Sprite who Carmine was chastising for overlooking a guest’s needs, a Gillikin who couldn’t swim trying to surf. A completely different kind of fear.

But their fear was only in their eyes. Their tiny mouths were stretched wide into identical, unnatural smiles. She squinted, half expecting to see some kind of pins holding their smiles up, but there were none. She wondered if it was a spell. All she knew for sure was that the smiles did not go up to their eyes, which were wild with the same fear that she seemed to feel everywhere.

They were terrified. It was the fear of a person waiting for something bad to happen. The fear of a person who knew she didn’t dare make a single misstep.

It was a kind of fear Polly had never seen in Oz before. And it was making her very, very nervous. Her mind went to Dorothy’s Happiness Decree idea, and her complaints about the Munchkins. Is it possible she’d already put the decree into place? She made her way to the Emerald Palace. It was shut tight—another thing that had never happened before, not since Dorothy had ousted the Wizard all those long years ago. In Ozma’s time, the drawbridge to the palace was always down, its gates wide open. But now it looked like a fortress.

Polly whispered a command and floated over the moat, up and over the castle walls. Which, she saw, were guarded—another first. She reached up into the sky, pulling down a cloak of clouds like a child grabbing at cotton candy, covering herself from the sentries’ view. They were creatures she’d never seen before—they looked more like machines than people. She blinked, looking more closely. They looked like machines that had once been people. They looked like Winkies, but Winkies as they’d never been in the entire history of Oz. Some of their limbs were gone, replaced by knife-edged wheels or sharp blades or barbed hooks. Where fur met metal, the edges were bloody and infected-looking. Their faces were blank, their eyes empty as they marched back and forth atop the palace walls like robots.

Polly swallowed hard. Who had done such a horrible thing?

Still swathed in cloud cover, she landed lightly in front of the palace’s immense main door. Like everything else, it was shut tight. An eerie silence, thick as mist, hung over the courtyard. When Polly knocked, her sharp rap echoed against the stone like the shot of a gun.

She waited for a long time, and then she knocked again. And again. Finally, a small hatch at head height swung open, and a blond girl peered out. She was about Dorothy’s age, and her face was fixed in a horrible rictus of a smile. “Good afternoon!” she called out in a singsong voice. “By decree of the honorable general, His Eminence the Woodman, the palace is closed to visitors today and every other day! Tourists may apply for a visa at permit office G—” She broke off and looked out the hatch, puzzled, as Polly stepped out of a shadow.

The girl jumped about a mile.

“Your Rainbow Highness!” she whispered, her eyes huge with shock. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t recognize you! Please don’t—please don’t be upset with me!”

“There’s no reason you should; I was hiding,” Polly said soothingly. “Of course I’m not upset with you. Who are you? Why is the palace closed?”

The girl looked around wildly, licking her lips with nervousness. “Jellia Jamb, Her Highness’s personal handmaid.”

“You’re Ozma’s maid?” Polly asked in surprise. Ozma had never had a personal maid before.

Jellia’s eyes widened even farther. “Ozma!” Her voice dropped to a shaky whisper. There was no doubt about it: the girl was absolutely terrified. “Ozma is—is—away, miss. I’m Dorothy’s maid. Specially chosen.” She drew herself up, some authority returning, and her voice got firmer. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Your Highness Polychrome. The palace is closed today.”

“But I’m Ozma’s cousin,” Polly said, bewildered. “The palace has never been—”

“Ozma isn’t here, miss!” Jellia said loudly in her initial singsong voice. “You may apply for a visitor’s visa at permit office G!” She began to shut the hatch, but Polly held up a hand, sending out a puff of air that slammed it back open.

“What is going on here?” she asked.

“Miss—er—Your—Rainbow—Highness—” Jellia began, but behind her someone spoke, and she froze in fear.

“Is there a problem at the gate, Jellia?” The voice was oily and sinister. A trickle of dread crept down Polly’s spine.

Whoever this was, there was no mistaking it: he was evil.

The door swung open with a groan, and Polly had to jump aside to avoid being knocked over. Jellia trembled in front of her, shaking with fear. And behind her stood—

“The Scarecrow?” Polly asked in relief. “It’s good to see you, sir. Can you tell me what’s going on?”

The Scarecrow looked at her with beady little button eyes. There was something off about him, Polly realized. Something almost—

“Whatever do you mean, Daughter of the Rainbow?” he asked, and she almost jumped. The oily, terrifying voice had been his.

Bright’s rumors were true. Something was seriously, seriously wrong in the Emerald Palace.

“The palace is closed today, Your Rainbow Highness,” the Scarecrow said in that same nasty, oily voice. “If you’d like to visit, I’m afraid you’ll have to apply for a permit, just like anyone else. Oz is a democracy now.” He said the word democracy with relish.

Polly drew herself up regally. “I wish to see my cousin,” she said coldly.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” the Scarecrow said. “And now, my dear, you simply must leave.” He held up a hand, and the door began to swing closed again. Polly tried to fight it, but his magic was uncannily strong, and she didn’t want to commit what might be considered an act of war on the threshold of the Emerald Palace.

“Thank you for visiting us and good-bye,” the Scarecrow said smoothly. He was already turning away.

“Wait!” Polly said desperately, but he had vanished down the hall. Jellia looked behind her wildly to make sure he was out of earshot and then turned back to Polly.

“Find Mombi!” she hissed just before the door closed. “Find the Order!”

“The Order?” Polly asked. But the door had slammed shut in her face. And this time, no matter how hard she pounded on it, it did not open again.

Polly stared at the palace, pondering her options. She had no idea what the Order was, or what that old witch Mombi had to do with it. She didn’t even know where Mombi was; she hadn’t heard word of her in years. There was more information inside the Emerald Palace, she was certain of it. She could break in, of course. The Scarecrow’s magic might be strong, but it was nothing compared to hers. The palace couldn’t keep her out. But she didn’t want to do anything hasty, and if the palace was barred to intruders, she’d only call attention to herself by causing a scene.

The best thing to do, she decided, was return to Rainbow Falls and talk to Dorothy. Whatever was going on here, she was beginning to realize that Dorothy had some part in it.

And if Bright was correct, Dorothy was responsible for all of it. It didn’t seem possible that that sweet-faced, tantrum-pitching girl could have caused the sheer terror she’d seen on the Munchkins’ faces, the horrible deformed Winkies, the inexplicable change in the Scarecrow. But this was Oz. The impossible happened every day.

And most importantly, Polly thought, if Dorothy was behind all of this that meant Ozma wasn’t just away, traveling and taking time off. She was in trouble. Bad trouble.

No more questions. It was time for answers.

SEVEN

Dorothy was furious when Polly returned to the Rainbow Citadel. “Where did you go?” she cried, stamping her ruby-red heel ineffectually into the rainbow-colored sand on the beach. “You keep disappearing without telling me anything!”

For the first time, Polly saw that there was more to Dorothy than just a spoiled child. She saw the Winkies marching back and forth like battered automatons. The Scarecrow’s evil, twisted features. Jellia’s and the Munchkins’ fear. Bright’s rumors and Ozma’s disappearance. Dorothy insisting she was the interim ruler of Oz. Jellia calling the Woodman a general. There was one thing they had in common: Dorothy.

She also saw the power in Dorothy’s shoes—shoes she hadn’t paid much attention to before now.

“Tell me what’s really going on, Dorothy,” she said. “Tell me what’s happening in the Emerald City. Tell me what you’ve done.”

“You went to the Emerald City?” Dorothy snarled. Toto, held tightly in Dorothy’s arms, snarled at Polly, too.

How could Polly ever have mistaken her for innocent? Her face was twisted with rage. Her shoes glowed with magic. Her hands twitched as if she was ready to tear off Polly’s head.

“How dare you leave me here!” Dorothy shrieked.

Polly kept her voice even. This time, she wasn’t going to let Dorothy misinterpret her actions into some imagined slight on Polly’s part. This time, she saw exactly what Dorothy was doing.

“Why is the palace closed? Why do you need a general? Where is my cousin?”

Dorothy stared at her, breathing hard. “I told you. Ozma went away.”

“Where did she go, Dorothy?”

“How should I know?” Dorothy snorted. “She betrayed me, Polly. She pretended to be my friend and then she just—she just—” Dorothy’s eyes filled with tears. Polly wanted to slap her.

“What did you do with her, Dorothy? Where is she?”

Dorothy shrugged. “She’s around,” she said. “She’s just not quite herself, if you know what I mean.” She giggled. The sound sent chills down Polly’s spine. “If you ask me, she got what was coming to her. She promised to teach me magic, and then she turned around and betrayed me. Can you believe it? Thank goodness Glinda was there to take my side. She’s a friend, Polly, not like you. When she went off to take care of her own business, I got lonely. I thought you’d be just like Glinda—sweet and good and beautiful and kind. Not some trashy slut who won’t share anything.”

“What does Glinda the Good Witch have to do with anything?”

“Oh, Glinda is so good. She’s been helping me so much. She’s just delightful. She always looked out for me, you know. She was always on my side, from the very beginning. She’s the only one who’s willing to protect me. Well, her and Tin. But he’s so tiresome after a while. All he can talk about are his armies. And me.” She giggled again. “He’s hopelessly in love with me, did you know that? It’s sort of sweet. But it’s also a little disgusting.”

“Armies?” Polly echoed.

“Of course,” Dorothy said. “A queen needs a defensive force.”

“Ozma didn’t.”

“Well, Ozma’s not around anymore,” Dorothy snapped. “It’s me now, Polly. All me. And if you won’t show me the magic of Rainbow Falls, I’ll just have to take it for myself. I’m your ruler now. I’m running this show!” Her voice had risen to a dangerous pitch. Polly was reeling.

This was it: this was the real Dorothy.

And this girl was completely insane.

“Get out,” Polly said. “Leave Rainbow Falls. Don’t ever come back. And I’m going to find out what you’re up to and stop you, Dorothy.”

Dorothy lightly set Toto down, patting him on the head, then turned to Polly. “Make me,” Dorothy said calmly.

“Make you?”

“Make me leave.” Dorothy crossed her arms, staring Polly down. “You can’t. I’m too powerful now. No one is ever going to make me do anything I don’t want to again. If you can’t be my friend, Polly, you can’t be anyone at all. Rainbow Falls is mine now.”

“Over my dead body,” Polly said. She may not have liked ruling, but Rainbow Falls was hers. It was her home. She cared about it and she had to protect it—and her people.

Dorothy shrugged. “If you insist. I’m sorry it has to end this way, but you are being perfectly unreasonable.”

Dorothy closed her eyes and her shoes began to glow with a fiery red light. She flicked her fingers outward, and bolts of red lightning shot toward the Rainbow Citadel. Polly threw her arms up, deflecting the lightning with a dazzling rainbow shield. Dorothy opened her eyes and scowled.

“That was not nice,” she snarled. She summoned a huge, swirling red cloud that spun over her head, gathering speed. “Not nice at all.” She flung her arm at the nearest floating island and it exploded in a shower of red sparks before Polly could stop her. A tentacle of red mist shot out from the cloud over her head, aiming for Polly. Polly dashed it aside with a blow of mist; it hit the ground with a sizzle, burning its way through the crystal like acid.

Dorothy advanced toward Polychrome, her hands held high, Toto growling and barking at her feet. Her red shoes were blazing with magic. With every step she took, she seemed to grow larger.

But Polly was no slouch in the magic department herself. Dorothy had a degree of power she’d never seen before, but that didn’t mean she was going to win.

It was the shoes, Polly realized. The shoes were the source of Dorothy’s insane strength. If she could destroy the shoes, she could end this here and now. Rainbow lightning flashed from Polly’s fingers, striking the red shoes in a shower of sparks.

But somehow, they deflected every bolt. And they twisted Polly’s own magic against Rainbow Falls; as every bolt landed, it tore apart something else. Islands exploded into rainbow mist. Falls evaporated with a humid boom. Crystal shattered into flying missiles that sped red-hot through the air.

Now Polly was aware of screams of terror. The guests were fleeing, not even bothering to grab up their things. The Sprites were running after them, just as frightened, as Dorothy’s magic began to tear Rainbow Falls apart.

“Not so pretty here after all, is it?” Dorothy sneered, taking step after step toward Polychrome. Polly backed up slowly, throwing up a wall of light that deflected Dorothy’s magic.

But she was weakening. She could feel it. And without backup, she wasn’t sure she could hold out against Dorothy much longer.

As Dorothy advanced, the cloud over her head grew bigger and bigger until it formed a whirling tornado of red light. Dorothy glanced over at the Rainbow Citadel and smiled triumphantly.

“Say good-bye to the pretty princess palace,” she cackled, pointing.

“No!” Polly screamed. “Heathcliff! HEATHCLIFF!”

The tornado descended on the citadel, tearing away its outer facade.

But then Heathcliff leapt over her shoulder, bounding toward the tornado with a roar. Polly threw herself at the unicorn, landing on his back. With a flash of rainbow light, Heathcliff and Polly raced toward the citadel, their forms blurring until they seemed to be a rainbow shaped now like a girl, now like a panther. Heathcliff’s cardboard horn—which Polly had made to replace the one he’d lost—blazed with a glorious multihued light.

And then Heathcliff’s horn pierced the tornado Dorothy had summoned.

The Rainbow Citadel shuddered. A huge boom echoed through the entire Rainbow Falls. Rainbows collapsed. An indigo tsunami swamped the beaches. The citadel glowed a thousand different colors: now red, now gold, now pink, now yellow, cycling back and forth between every imaginable hue in every imaginable world. Its glorious light ate at Dorothy’s red tornado like the sun burning away mist. Through the ragged holes it tore in her magic, sunlight beamed down, refracting through the remaining rainbow mists. The more light it collected, the weaker Dorothy’s tornado became until finally it vanished on a fresh, ocean-scented breeze.

The citadel held.

“LEAVE,” the creature that had been Polly and Heathcliff roared, pointing one blazing appendage—finger? claw? something that was both?—at Dorothy and Toto.

Dorothy shrank down again, her eyes wide and innocent. “But I didn’t do anything,” she said in a girlish whisper. “Please don’t make me go, Polly. We were having such a nice time.”

“BEGONE, TRAITOR,” the creature bellowed.

Dorothy grabbed Toto and fled.

And the creature collapsed to the ground, separating into two pools of rainbow light that coalesced into an unconscious Heathcliff and Polly.

EIGHT

It might have been hours or days later when Polly awoke; she had no sense of how long she’d been out. She’d been having the most awful dream—the citadel nearly destroyed, the Rainbow Sea evaporated, Heathcliff nearly killed . . . She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and looked around her.

And then she cried out in anguish.

She was lying on the ground in front of the Rainbow Citadel. Deep black fissures rent its pristine surface. The earth all around her was scorched and stained. Heathcliff was still unconscious, his fur matted with blood and soot.

But that was nothing compared to what had happened to her kingdom.

Rainbow Falls was gone. The floating archipelago, the Rainbow Pools, Indigo Beach: all of it burned into nothingness by Dorothy’s magic. It hadn’t been a nightmare. It had been real.

The air was hot, smelling of blood and smoke. Wisps of singed rainbow drifted across the scarred landscape. And Carmine was crouched over her, one hand on her shoulder.

“Your Rainbow Highness,” the Sprite said, his voice relieved. “You’re alive.”

“It was real,” Polly whispered. “It was real.” She buried her face in Carmine’s shoulder and sobbed.

“Yes,” he said quietly, rubbing her back. “I’m afraid it was.”

“It’s—gone? It’s really gone?”

“Yes, Polychrome. All of the guests fled. Many of the Sprites were killed. The outer regions are—destroyed. What you can see is all that’s left.”

“I did this,” she cried. “I let her in. I didn’t listen to Bright and protect my people the way I should have. It’s my fault this happened.”

Carmine didn’t say anything. He just let her cry.

When she had cried herself out, Polly took a deep breath. Heathcliff needed tending to, and so did her kingdom. Rainbow Falls would never be what it had been; too much of it had been destroyed.

But she would protect what was left with every bit of magic she had.

And her life.

Next to her, Heathcliff stirred and mewed plaintively, sounding for all the world like a hurt housecat. She tangled her fingers in his fur, her sooty cheeks streaked with tears. “Once more, dear unicorn,” she said. “Be strong for me. Then you can rest.” He licked her hand feebly with his raspy tongue and lay back, his sides heaving. She tightened her fingers in his fur. He managed a feeble purr. With her other hand, she took Carmine’s. “I need you, too,” she said quietly.

Carmine nodded.

Polly closed her eyes, summoning all the magic she had left. She felt the power of the rainbow flooding through her, drawing through her body, and Heathcliff’s, and Carmine’s. “Seal this place,” she said. “Set it free from the earth to float through the sky. Make it unfindable to any who wish it harm. Keep it hidden. Keep it safe.”

Old Magic poured through her and radiated outward, engulfing what remained of Rainbow Falls. A shimmering wall of rainbow light surrounded the citadel and the few floating islands that were left. And Polly could feel the crystal beneath her pulling away from the earth and hurtling toward the clouds. Oz dropped away into an ocean of mist.

She had done it. They were safe. They were hidden. And Dorothy would never hurt her kingdom again.

She sank back into a dark, dreamless sleep as Carmine and Heathcliff collapsed beside her.

Polly awoke for a second time to Heathcliff licking her face. She felt terrible. Every part of her body hurt. The magic had torn its way through her like acid.

But she was alive and Rainbow Falls was safe. And that was all that mattered. She hugged her unicorn to her gratefully and he purred like an engine. He still looked awful, but he was alive, too. Already his wounds were healing. Next to her, Carmine was still unconscious, but the rise and fall of his chest showed that he was still alive. She heard voices echoing from the citadel: the Sprites and handmaidens who’d survived the attack and who hadn’t fled. She smiled.

They had done it. They had sealed Rainbow Falls off from the outside world. And now it was time to rebuild.

“Hey, babe,” said a familiar voice.

Polly sat up with a gasp. Heathcliff purred. Bright was lounging at her feet, looking as gorgeous as ever.

“How did you get here?” she demanded. “I sealed this place off.”

He shrugged. “Did you? I don’t know, then. I got lost. I was on this beach looking for waves but the surf was pretty bad, and I thought of you, and the next thing I knew here I was. What happened?”

“She was right,” Polly said. “It’s a garden, not the ocean.” Bright wrinkled his pretty brow.

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s something Ozma said. I told her that we were supposed to let our people be free like the ocean. She said we were supposed to protect our kingdoms and tend to them like a garden. She was right. I ignored every bad feeling. Every sign. And I invited Dorothy in. I made her my guest. I practically threw her a party. And you told me, too. I should have paid better attention.”

He looked around in awe. “Dorothy did this? Holy shit. So the rumors are true.”

“Yeah, they are,” Polly said. She told Bright everything that had happened since he’d left. About visiting the Emerald City, and the Scarecrow, what Jellia said about finding the Order. She told him about the fight she’d had with Dorothy when she’d returned. And the battle. As she talked, Bright drew her close. He didn’t say anything, just stroked her hair and rested his chin on the top of her head. When she was done talking, his arms tightened around her.

“I’m sorry, Pol,” he said, his voice husky. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

“You couldn’t have done anything, anyway. And I told you to go,” she said. She fought the urge to start crying again. “This is all my fault. I deserve to be alone.”

“Hey, hey,” Bright said gently, tilting her chin up. “You didn’t know. You couldn’t have known. Even the stuff I heard—none of it suggested that Dorothy had the power to do anything like this.”

“I should have known something was wrong,” she said brokenly.

“Hush,” he said, and kissed her. His mouth tasted like rainbow smoke and apples. His hands slid down her back and toward her waist. Her breath caught in her throat as he left a trail of butterfly kisses down her neck.

“I know how I can make you feel better,” he said in a low voice.

In spite of herself, Polly smiled. “Not right now,” she said firmly. “I mean, definitely later. But all of this happened because I was too busy having a good time and not taking care of my kingdom. First, I rebuild. Then, I apologize.”

“I could apologize, then we can rebuild, then I can apologize some more,” Bright pointed out, his eyes sparkling.

Polly laughed. “Tempting. Very, very tempting.”

His face grew serious again. “Are you going to find this Order that Jellia told you about? Do you think it’s some kind of force organizing against Dorothy?”

“I don’t know,” Polly said. “And I don’t know what Mombi would have to do with it if it is. She’s an odd, old bird.” She chewed her lip thoughtfully, looking around her at the damage, and then she shook her head.

“Whatever they are, I’m not much of a joiner,” she said decidedly. “And there’s too much work to do here.”

“Maybe Oz needs you, too,” Bright said.

“Maybe. But Rainbow Falls needs me more. And right now, I need you. Think you might stick around for just a little while?”

“I could probably manage that,” Bright said, reaching for her hand. “I still owe you a couple of apologies.”

Polly leaned her head against his shoulder, scratching her unicorn behind the ears with her free hand. Maybe she’d find Mombi and maybe she wouldn’t. But whatever happened now, she knew one thing for sure.

She would never fail Rainbow Falls again.

EXCERPT FROM THE WITCH MUST BURN

READ MORE ABOUT THE ORDER—AND JELLIA JAMB—IN:

ONE

Things have been pretty weird lately in Oz. I mean, if you’re not from around here, things are always a little weird in Oz. There’re the flying monkeys, sure, and the Road of Yellow Brick, which isn’t exactly the most reliable freeway in the world (it moves around). We have magic—more about that later—and animated soldiers that used to be toys, and a city made out of emeralds, and trees that talk. We have an enchanted palace—that’s where I work as a servant—and we have a Wizard with extra-special powers. We had a Wizard, anyway, until he disappeared. We have cornfields that grow pre-roasted corn on the cob and talking animals and a Cowardly Lion who’s actually not so cowardly and is becoming a little bit scary. (He talks, too.) But for us, all of that is no big deal. We’re used to it. The really weird thing about Oz these days?

Her name is Dorothy. And she’s my boss.

Technically, Ozma is my boss. She’s the rightful ruler of Oz, and when she was running the show, things were great for us here in the Emerald City. I don’t know anything about where I’m from—I was left on the doorstep of the Emerald Palace as a tiny baby. Ozma and I grew up together there. I knew she’d one day be the ruler of Oz, too, but she never acted like someone who was about to be a queen. She was just my friend, and the palace servants became my family. I’ve never known anything else.

Then Dorothy showed up—the first time—and everything changed. She killed the Wicked Witch of the East and with the help of the Tin Woodman, the Scarecrow, and the Cowardly Lion, the Wicked Witch of the West. She saved Oz. Then she vanished back to the Other Place—the world she came from, where magic doesn’t exist. Ozma took her rightful place on the throne, and things were basically perfect. Although I still didn’t know anything about my real family, I’d lived in the palace for my whole life and Ozma and the servants were the only family I needed. I loved my work in the palace, as strange as that may sound—it gave me a real sense of pride to do a good job keeping everything running. Nobody plans a banquet like I do. I can remember the names of every single dignitary of Oz—and their children, pets, favorite foods, preferred seating arrangements, wives, husbands, ex-wives, ex-husbands, and what room in the palace they most like to stay in when they visit. My detail-oriented nature is what makes me so good at my job, and it’s why Ozma ultimately promoted me to be the youngest head maid in the history of Oz. I wasn’t going to be a famous queen or a powerful sorceress, and I was fine with that. I was good at something that I loved, and I’d get to spend my life doing it.

And then Dorothy came back, and that’s when things got weird. She was different—she wasn’t the sweet, innocent girl we all adored who had saved Oz. Dorothy moved into the palace, and this time she was here to stay. And then, after a palace ball one night, suddenly Ozma wasn’t herself anymore; overnight she went from our vivacious, caring, generous queen to a vacant ghost of herself wandering the halls of the palace like the world’s creepiest talking doll. Sometimes she didn’t even recognize us. At first, Dorothy pretended she was helping out, ruling on Ozma’s behalf. She kept Ozma close by her side.

But then Dorothy dropped the pretense pretty quickly, and none of us knew how to stop her, or even if we could. Suddenly, our peaceful palace was full of soldiers. They looked like the Tin Woodman, but there was something about them that didn’t feel right. The Scarecrow left his own corncob mansion out in the hills of Oz and moved into the palace, where he shut himself up in his suite of rooms and began to work on something mysterious that Dorothy referred to as his “experiments.” The Scarecrow had always seemed so harmless before, just kind of dopey and pleasant despite his brain upgrade, but the maids who took him his meals came back from his rooms with stories about sinister equipment and cages covered in blankets, behind which they could hear rustling and faint, soft moans, like something crying out in pain. We’d see lights coming from his rooms at all hours, and hear crashing and banging in the middle of the night. Pretty soon I had to bribe my staff with extra time off in order to get them to so much as clean the hallway outside his room. And the stories of what they saw inside sent chills up my spine.

Dorothy acted as though nothing was wrong—as though whatever was happening was totally normal. If any of us asked her about it, she’d fly off the handle in one of her infamous tantrums. So we left it alone.

I also quickly realized that Dorothy doesn’t like me, but I am careful to keep myself useful. I want to figure out what’s going on in the palace, and with Ozma, and I can’t do that if Dorothy kicks me out. And I think even she realized that dismissing me out of hand would clue the rest of the servants in to the fact that something was really wrong. Ozma would never condone such a thing, and for all intents and purposes, Ozma is still the ruler of Oz. I make sure for the time being to keep everything the way Dorothy likes it. I make sure her rows and rows of dresses are hung neatly, organized by color, occasion, and material (and yes, of course, season). Her bacon is extra crispy, the floors are extra scrubbed. I know exactly what it takes to keep the palace running like clockwork, and Dorothy knows I know, and so for now we’re in kind of a standoff. She hates me, but she can’t get rid of me, and I intend to keep it that way.

She is the only one who’s allowed to use magic in the palace. She says there’s too much of a risk of disaster otherwise. But I think the real reason is that she doesn’t want anyone to have more power than she does.

I’m not sure how much longer I can stand it here. Every once in a while, I’ll get a chance to pause for a moment at a window, looking out over the glittering green towers of Oz and daydreaming about what life used to be like when Ozma was in charge and Oz was the way it should be. When Dorothy was a national hero, not a national menace. When—

“Jellia!” Dorothy’s voice tore through the air, a piercing shriek that made me flinch. I’d been scrubbing the palace floors since sunrise. Dorothy had been on a tear since she staggered out of bed long after the palace was up and bustling, and I’d had the bad luck to be standing next to her when she decided the floors were filthy, despite the fact that we’d cleaned them the day before. I sat up from my brush and bucket as the relentless tap-tap-tap of her heels came storming into the room, and just barely scrambled to my feet and executed a clumsy curtsy.

“What are you doing?” she snarled. “Why are you filthy?” She’d used magic that morning to dress herself—there was no mistaking the way she was stuffed into her corseted and impossibly short dress, or the glittering haze that surrounded her as she moved. Her hair was curled into tight, childish ringlets that were a strange contrast to her glossy red mouth and heavily rouged cheeks. As always, her magical red heels glowed like the fires of Hell. If you got close to those shoes, it was almost as though you could hear them talking to you in a low, seductive whisper.

“You look terrible,” Dorothy said. So do you, I thought.

“You asked me to scrub the floors this morning.” I kept my eyes downcast.

“I most certainly absolutely did no such thing, Jellia.” She always said my name like it was the worst insult she could think of. It drove me nuts. I dared a look up at her through my lashes, trying to judge her mood. If she’d truly forgotten, I’d only make her angrier by contradicting her. If she was trying to torment me, she’d only leave me alone once she saw me squirm like a worm on a hook. She was looking out the window with a scowl, her attention already elsewhere, which meant I wasn’t on her hit list for the day. Yet.

I rolled my eyes and swallowed my pride. “I must have misheard, Your Majesty,” I mumbled.

“Get yourself cleaned up at once,” she snapped. “I’m throwing a banquet and it has to be perfect. And I want all my dresses laid out—and the ballroom prepared—and I want all the Munchkins out of sight. Every last one of them, especially that filthy little blue one. Is that clear?”

“Of course, Your Majesty. Someone is visiting the palace?”

“Glinda is returning tomorrow,” she said coolly.

Even I, practiced as I was becoming in keeping my emotions out of my expressions, couldn’t hide my shock. Glinda was one of the most powerful witches in Oz—possibly the most powerful witch in Oz. Rumor had it that she was somehow responsible for Dorothy’s return, although no one knew exactly what she’d done.

Then Glinda had vanished shortly after Dorothy had moved into the palace. I know I wasn’t the only one who’d breathed a sigh of relief.

“Glinda is coming here?” I blurted. Dorothy narrowed her eyes, studying my face, and I cursed my big mouth. If she was back in the Emerald City now, I was pretty sure it wasn’t to deck us all out in ball gowns and tiaras.

“Surely you’re thrilled,” she said, and I recognized the danger in her voice.

“Oh, of course.” I scrambled to cover my slipup. “I’m just—it’s just a surprise to have such a, um”—I was hit with a burst of inspiration—“such an exalted guest. It will be an honor to receive her.”

An expression of disgust crossed her face. “And change your dress,” she said. “You look like you crawled out of a sewer.” She laughed out loud at her own joke, pivoting on one glittering heel and stalking out of the room. Her ridiculously short dress switched back and forth with each stride. I sighed and scowled down at my mop bucket. Something was up, and I had the sinking feeling whatever was about to happen wasn’t going to be good.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

DANIELLE PAIGE is a graduate of Columbia University. Before turning to young adult literature, she worked in the television industry, where she received a Writers Guild of America Award and was nominated for several Daytime Emmys. She currently lives in New York City.

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BOOKS BY DANIELLE PAIGE

Novels

Dorothy Must Die

The Wicked Will Rise

Yellow Brick War

The End of Oz

Prequel Novellas

No Place Like Oz

The Witch Must Burn

The Wizard Returns

Heart of Tin

The Straw King

Ruler of Beasts

Order of the Wicked

Dark Side of the Rainbow

The Queen of Oz

Collections

Dorothy Must Die: The Other Side of the Rainbow Collection

Novella Collections

Dorothy Must Die Stories

Dorothy Must Die Stories Volume 2

COPYRIGHT

DARK SIDE OF THE RAINBOW. Copyright © 2017 by HarperCollins Publishers. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

EPub Edition © 2017

ISBN: 978-0-06-242381-8

EPub Edition © January 2017 ISBN 9780062423818

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FIRST EDITION

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