Almira's Heart: Getting Back to Oz, #3

By Jess Reece

The Emerald City of Oz.
Two witches destined to destroy each other.
A magic compass leading to salvation … or ruin?

When a charismatic stranger arrives in Oz, it plunges the land into chaos, tipping the already volatile relationship between the Good Witch of the North and the Wicked Witch of the West into all-out war.

Before the final blow can be dealt, Almira West-- the wicked witch herself-- is ensnared by an old, old magic contained in a magic compass by a powerful witch ages ago, and finds herself transported into foreign lands both wild and dangerous, with not one, but two unusual companions.

Forced to rely on Kansas farm girl Dorothy Gale and San Diego book lover Winifred Jones, Almira battles monsters, mad queens, and magicians in an effort to get back to Oz. Unaware of the threats that await her return, Almira will need every ounce of cunning and magic she possesses to keep her friends and herself alive long enough to defeat her enemies and reclaim her throne.

Pick up this exciting conclusion to Jess Reece's Getting Back to Oz trilogy today and join Almira on her quest to restore the balance of power in Oz, avenge her murdered family, and redeem her hardened heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: diver1273
• Release date: Jun 25, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386846000

Jess Reece

Jess Reece was practically born with a pen in her hand. She wrote her first story, about a dog taking a ride on an alien spaceship to the moon, at four years old. As a teenager and young adult, she won various local writing awards for her poetry and short fiction. Jessica's goal is to draw her readers into worlds that are as real to them as they are to her, and have them fall in love with the characters that they get to know. She also writes nonfiction, using her skills to mentor adult survivors of childhood abuse and trauma - healing that pain, sometimes decades old, through creative writing and storytelling. Jessica also paints and designs her book covers, as well as finds time to relax with her husband, daughter, and motley crew of rescue animals.

Book preview

Getting Back to Oz: Book Three

Almira’s Heart

––––––––

By Jess Reece

Copyright © 2019 by Jess Reece

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

without the express written permission of the publisher

except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

To my husband:

I’m really happy that all of this is your fault.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 38

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Epilogue

Almira

Dorothy

Winnie

Chapter 1

Almira, don’t stop now, we’re almost there! Lilura taunted.

How in Oz did she wake up with so much energy, I wondered, pumping my legs harder to catch her. This time, I wouldn’t let her win, I just wouldn’t. Before I knew what had happened, my feet were knocked out from under me and I sprawled face first in the hard, yellow dirt. Lilting laughter drifted back to me from her pounding steps. I shoved myself back up and took off like a shot across the field of tall golden grass.

The wind whipped my long black hair, raising it up behind me like a dark banner. Sweetly scented air puffed up with the motes of pollen I disturbed as I ran, coating my strange green skin with a fine yellow film. A rare laugh bubbled up in my throat at the sheer freedom of running wild in the fields.

Lilura appeared from the corner of my eye, taking the same shortcut now that she was aware that I was no longer following behind her. We raced side by side in earnest now, grinning at each other despite our laboring lungs. The small hill that was topped with one of the few trees in Winkie land appeared several yards ahead.

I pulled ahead of her, focused on my goal and nothing else. Stretching out my arm, I extended my fingers, mere inches from the branch that was tied with a bright green ribbon. A colossal wall of water suddenly appeared directly in front of me, and screeching, I dropped to my knees, tumbling down the hill.

Lilura, you rotten cheater! I yelled, looking over my shoulder to see her holding up the emerald ribbon triumphantly.

Don’t be sore, she laughed, trotting down the hill to plop down next to me, before holding out the ribbon. Here, you have it.

I’ll earn my own prizes, thank you, I said, slapping it away and getting to my feet.

You are too prideful by far, sister dear. It will be your downfall one day.

I gazed at her solemn golden eyes—so very different from my own bright green ones that seemed to unsettle everyone else—and wondered what she was thinking. For a long while, she stared back, before dissolving in a fit of giggles, then thumped my shoulder playfully. I was never given to laughter, and Lilura had teased me often enough about it.

There is nothing wrong with being serious, I narrowed my eyes.

Don’t you try to fool me, you wicked thing! I heard you laughing as we ran. She crossed her arms before cocking her head at me with a look far too mature for her tender years. It’s okay to laugh once in a while.

She reached out a hand to me, but I quickly pulled away. Though we had been borne of different parents, Lilura was the closest thing to a true sister I’d ever had, though as a rule I couldn’t bear for her to touch me. Her sunshine-yellow skin stood out starkly against my own unusual, verdant-hued body, and the contrast was too unsettling.

No one else in the history of Oz, either before me or after, had been born with green skin that shimmered and set me entirely apart.

Almira, don’t you go feeling sorry for yourself, I simply won’t have it!

I frowned at her, planted my feet, and raised my hands to my midsection as if holding an invisible ball. The air around me crackled as a surge of energy rippled through my body, starting at my toes and flowing up through my fingertips. Lilura backed up with careful, slow steps, shaking her head.

Feeling sorry for myself?

Now, Almira, don’t look at me like that. That isn’t what I meant.

"I’m the prideful one? I’m the sorry one?"

I twisted a little at the waist, then whipped back around to fling my hands at her. The ball of energy that I’d built up streamed away from my fingers with a tickling sort of tugging sensation, the way the breeze played with strands of my hair. A faint, shimmering orb of energy sailed through the air, catching radiant glimmers of sunlight before bursting into a cascade of green sparkles where it hit her chest, knocking her backwards onto the ground.

Very well, she coughed, still lying prone on the ground. Let’s have at it!

Her sporting tone and the swirl of her finger in the dirt were the only warning I received before a furious gust of wind started up suddenly. The miniature cyclone cast soil and dust, weeds and roots, pebbles and rocks into the air. Unfortunately for her, that phenomenon generated plenty of static electricity. Closing and opening my fingers as if I was stroking wind chimes, I drew that energy inward.

Flicking tiny, sizzling green darts her way, I was rewarded with her sharp yowl of pain. All at once, the whipping wind around me stalled out, dying down as surely as if it had never been. Brushing debris off my shoulders, I turned and spit dirt out of my mouth.

Not bad, I conceded with a disinterested shrug, but not good either.

Her brilliant smile disappeared with my last words, replaced with a childish, petulant fury both worrisome and incredible to behold. Widening her stance, she spread her fingers wide, palm down over the yellow earth beneath us, then raised one eyebrow. I heard the rumble long before I felt it, and took off like a wheeler, wobbling and bobbing this way and that as I raced over the shaking ground.

Coward! Lilura shouted after me.

Coward?

I snorted. Not I. Rather, I was insightful enough to know when to stand my ground and when to reevaluate my tactics so as not to get tumbled about—and possibly crushed—by the boulders she was summoning from deep in the Ozian soil. I ducked sideways into some shrubs, hoping she hadn’t seen me.

Hiding is cheating, Almira, Lilura mocked, following me into the fields that had yet to be harvested, and frankly, beneath you.

My plain taupe tunic and breeches camouflaged me from her sharp eyes as I crouched amongst the sweet grass. The crunch of a broken twig sounded close by and I sprung to my feet as quick as a wheeler once again but—unlike a wheeler—without wheels to spirit me away, I had to rely on my very ordinary legs. Lilura shouted in triumph, but I was racing through the grass and hurdling over the bales waiting for Winkie harvesters to collect them.

Almira! Stop! Oh, no, look out!

Throwing myself to the ground, I covered my head with my hands and braced myself for the inevitable pain that would come. Lilura could call the elements to her as I could call energy to me, and on more than one occasion had peppered me with magic-conjured water. She was young yet and it was always accidental, though my cursed skin with its strange affliction reacted the same regardless. Sometimes the burning blisters took weeks to fully heal. Instead of a painful deluge of water, however, my nose crinkled as her sizzling, crackling projectile passed harmlessly over my head.

Looking up from the ground, I saw the smoking fireball land several yards away, in a field with cured grass bales stacked in neat rows. A whoosh of flames roared up towards the sky as it met the fuel it needed to live. In a shockingly short amount of time, the entire field was consumed. We stood hand in hand, helpless to stop the flames.

Look, that barn will be next, I said, turning to grab her by the shoulders. Lilura you’ve got to try to put the fire out!

I can’t, she cried.

You must, Lilura—a little water is all it needs.

I willed her to try it, pushing her to believe she could, despite the danger to myself. She raised her hands, now visibly trembling with fear, but only managed to conjure a few drops. It didn’t matter now. The flames had spread much too far, much too fast.

The whole village was on fire.

By the Emerald City, Lilura whispered, what have I done?

We raced forward, met by the shouts of frantic men and women fighting the flames. The mud homes with grass-thatched roofs were no match for the intensity of the fire, nor were the people trying to put it out. Within minutes, the traders’ building had gone up, spewing dark, acrid smoke into the sky as the items inside burned. The healers’ hut went next, then the storage silo. I watched, horrified and helpless, as the destruction spread completely out of control.

I knew it would be bad when we got there, but then, the worst came.

Shrieks of pain and cries for help sounded from several areas around the village. Many people, caught unawares by the raging flames, were trapped inside their homes with no escape. I dropped to my knees, covering my ears to muffle the hideous screams. Somewhere buried within the panicked shouting, crackling flames, and cries for help, I caught the distinct sound of a baby crying.

Dear Lurline above, that’s Branna!

Leaping to my feet, I sprinted away. Lilura shouted for me to stop, but my only thought was to reach my home. When I got there, it was completely engulfed in flames. I would have run into the burning building if Lilura hadn’t tackled me about the waist, before forcibly holding me to the ground.

The terrified sobbing inside the modest house rose to a shrill shriek of pain, and I fought ferociously against Lilura’s grip. She weathered my kicks and punches and gnashing of teeth without letting go, however. The baby’s cry cut off abruptly, and something deep inside my soul cleaved in two. Agonized wailing wrenched free from my paralyzed throat, then, going on and on until my voice was hoarse.

From a great distance, I heard my name being called.

As if fighting the deadly pull of the sinking sands, I clawed my way up from the ravenous, sucking pit of grief threatening to devour me from the inside out. I blinked once, twice, rubbing the smoke out of my eyes before Lilura’s face would come into focus. She was shouting something, holding my face with both of her hands, but my ears felt full, stuffed, and her words made no sense at first—but all at once, I came back to myself. Assaulted by noise, smoke, and the raging crackle of flames, I shook my head in denial, desperate for the blessed relief of senselessness once more.

Almira, get up! Get up! We have to run!

Lilura, I protested weakly, allowing her to pull me to my feet, what are you talking about?

Quick now, they’re already searching for the cause of the fire!

She dragged me along behind her while I tried to comprehend her words. With so much chaos, no one noticed two twelve-year-old girls slipping away from the fire-gutted town. Coughing and sputtering, I followed meekly, any fight that had beat in my breast before now was long gone, along with the life of my dear little Branna.

The sun had set long since, but guided by the light of the stars, we stopped walking only when we reached the ribbon tree. How strange that it looked so small and insignificant now. Racing for the emerald ribbon seemed a lifetime ago, instead of just hours, and I leaned my back against the smooth bark, sliding down to sit on the ground. I felt small and insignificant, too, alone and unloved.

The woman that had delivered me had abandoned her sickly infant at first sight of my unbearable deformity—the terrible green skin plaguing me these twelve years of my life. I would have died of starvation and exposure were it not for the mercy of an older, childless couple in the village. Two years ago, they’d been blessed with and surprised by a babe of their own, at long last.

They could not help that they loved her more than me—it would have been unnatural if they had not. Due to my solitary nature, I’d never been particularly affectionate, but the baby brought a peculiar sort of joy to my heart. Not once had she ever shied away from me, or avoided my company, but was always happy and loving from the day she was born.

You did this, I said quietly, looking straight ahead. How could you just ... let it happen?

Almira, I never meant for Branna to get hurt.

Don’t, I turned my eyes to her, don’t you dare say her name.

My family died too, she said, so softly I almost missed it. Mine died too.

Leaning my head back against the tree trunk, I stared up at the night sky, not trusting myself to speak, and tried to give a name to my tumultuous emotions. Satisfaction that Lilura had suffered a terrible loss too? Grief for both of us? Nothing at all? I was tired, weary all the way to my bones, and opted for closing my eyes instead of thinking any more.

I slowly came awake to sunshine warming my face. Lilura was sitting cross-legged, plucking tall strands of grass from the dirt. I stared at her for a long time. Aware of my scrutiny, she met my gaze.

I’m so sorry, Almira, she said, fat tears tracing a glistening path down her cheeks.

Let’s not talk about that now. We have to go back home, I said, my voice hitching on the last word.

Nodding, she wiped away her tears and stood up. The walk back to our village was quiet, subdued, and we made no effort to hurry. White smoke rose into the sky in the distance, thin and wispy now that the flames had been put out. Our village finally came into view, charred and nearly unrecognizable. A few buildings were lucky enough to remain standing, but even those had suffered significant fire damage.

A group of soldiers were clustered around Idona, the village Proctor, and they turned as one to watch our approach. My heartbeat quickened. Something wasn’t right. These men weren’t ordinary soldiers. They were Emerald City Marshalls.

Oh, this was bad. Really bad. Maybe they knew.

There she is, Captain. Idona pointed towards us. "That’s the one that’s always causing trouble. She had to have started the fire!"

The Marshalls rushed forward, and I braced myself to be grabbed by strong hands. They ran right past me, however, seizing Lilura instead. Twisting her arms behind her back, they marched her forward. One of the Marshalls wrenched Lilura’s arm up even farther, drawing a pained cry from her as she stumbled.

Later, if I had been asked, I would not have been able to say why I did what I did next.

Stop! I yelled. Lilura didn’t do it. I did.

Chapter 2

The sun beat down on my unprotected head. It wasn’t often that I felt thankful for the curse of my green skin, but despite the heat, I did not sweat—the thought of moisture trickling down my body was enough to make me shudder. At least the heat distracted me from the bumpy wagon ride. My teeth were liable to rattle right out my head, for every rut and hole the Marshall seemed to aim for. The yellow brick road, created by Winkie artisans long ago had—with no small amount of irony—fallen into great disrepair throughout Winkie land.

For months I’d dreamed of this day, but now that it was here, a stone had settled in the pit of my stomach. It had been so long since the fire, I couldn’t begin to guess how I’d be received by the people of Maybe. The proctor had been so quick to believe me over Lilura, I was not so foolish as to hope I’d be welcomed with open arms.

The Marshall slowed the wagon as we approached a fork in the road. Signposts pointed left and right for Perchance City and Couldbe, respectively. He turned right, and I craned my neck around.

We’re going the wrong way.

He didn’t reply, nor did he give any indication that he had even heard me at all.

I said, we’re going the wrong way.

We aren’t going to Maybe. You, he grunted, are going to the orphan’s home in Couldbe.

The Couldbe Orphanage? But my home is in Maybe!

All I know is what the council decided. I expect Maybe didn’t want you back.

The Marshall tossed those words out so callously, I couldn’t help but feel the sting. My adoptive family had been extraordinarily kind, but the residents of Maybe were less so. When they perished in the fire—along with my sweet little Branna—there was no one left to care about me. It’s for the better. I straightened my shoulders, trying not to think about our destination.

Couldbe Orphanage was something Winkie parents threatened misbehaving children with. Watch out, they’d say, or the Marshalls will come and get you and take you to Couldbe. The youngest in the village would wail in fear and cling to their mother’s leg, but the older children postured in secret with false bravado, declaring they weren’t afraid.

I’d refused to participate in such silly games, as did Lilura, which only set me further apart from my peers. An orphanage didn’t scare me—after all, I was practically an orphan anyway. And I wasn’t afraid of an unknown boogeyman. Only Lurline and the other gods of Oz knew the fear that hid deep in my heart.

The orphans’ home appeared on the horizon, growing larger with each passing mile. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing—I’d never known a building could be so tall. It was as if they’d stacked one long row house on top of another.

Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it, the Marshall said as we pulled up to a stop.

It’s so much bigger than I thought it would be, I said, trying to hide the distress in my voice.

You should see the Emerald City, he snorted.

A man stepped out of the building and the Marshall hopped down to greet him. Exchanging some papers, they motioned me over. I slid off the bench, grabbed my satchel, and stepped over to them with my head held high.

You did nothing wrong, it will be just fine.

Almira West, the short, stocky man stared as he said my name, and I tilted my chin up, ready for some comment on my unusual skin.

Yes, I gritted my teeth.

I am Steward Panas. I run this orphans’ home. Am I to understand that you were involved in some trouble several months ago?

Yes, I answered, shifting from foot to foot while clutching my bag.

Well, he said with a thin smile, none of that matters here. At Couldbe, everyone is given a clean slate, and what you do with your time here decides your future.

Panas shook the Marshall’s hand and spun on his heel to return inside. The Marshall returned to the wagon without another word to either of us. I stood in the yard for a minute, looking from the road to the building that would be my home until I came of age. And what then?

Miss West? Panas poked his head out of the doorway. This way, come now.

I sighed, then followed him obediently, if reluctantly. He had said I was being given a fresh start here but my time with the Marshalls—enforcers, judges, and the jailors of Oz—had instilled within me a deep suspicion of authority figures. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, I thought.

What choice did I have, really?

Steward Panas led me up a set of stairs. Explaining these were the dormitories. The entire floor was divided into two wings with a communal washroom in the middle. He showed me to the girls’ wing—a wide, tall room with two long rows of cots. I blanched a little. I’d never spent time around so many people, and if I was honest with myself, it was unnerving.

Almira? a dearly familiar voice called out. Almira West, is that really you?

I spun around, my breath catching in my throat, hardly daring to believe my own eyes. Lilura—my own beautiful Lilura—was racing across the room. She slammed into me, wrapping me in a tight embrace, and nearly taking us both to the floor.

Ahem. Panas cleared his throat. I take it you’re friends, then?

Yes, Lilura answered, gripping me even tighter, as if he might pull us apart.

Good. Lilura, you’ll show her around? Dinner will be served in two hours. Don’t be late.

The next two hours passed quickly. Lilura and I sat cross-legged on my cot, catching up on what happened during the past year. She reached out to hold my hand, and I permitted the contact, much to the surprise of us both.

I just can’t believe you’re here. She smiled, the uncharacteristic sheen of tears shimmering in her yellow eyes. I thought ... I thought the Marshalls had executed you.

To be honest, there was a time I expected so as well. When they released me, I was probably more surprised than anyone. I thought they’d take me home, but they brought me here instead.

Almira, I need to warn you about something, Lilura said as the bell rang, calling everyone to dinner.

Warn me about what? I pulled my hand away from hers.

We aren’t the only orphans from Maybe here. I am less than popular, you might say. I expect you’ll be even less so.

We should go, I said, ignoring the flutter of fear in my belly. Panas said not to be late.

Most of the orphans were seated by the time Lilura and I reached the dining room. A hundred pairs of eyes turned on us as conversations fell silent. Lilura walked with her head and shoulders straight, refusing to acknowledge the angry glares cast her way. I followed her example, uncomfortable with the weight of so many eyes on me.

"Witch," someone sneered.

"Murderer," another voice whispered.

I passed a particularly large boy with a familiar face, holding his gaze for a second too long. He curled his lip, and before I could react, flung his leg out, hooking my foot. Sprawling face first, I had just enough time to catch myself without breaking my nose. I jumped up, whirling around to retaliate. Raising my hands, I gathered the energy between my fingers.

Almira, don’t, Lilura said softly, putting her hand on my shoulder and nodding towards the table at the head of the room.

Steward Panas was watching us with a pinched expression. Lilura urged me forward, and we took our seats without any other problems. The meal served was simple—roast fowl, hearty bread, and steamed tubers—but it was better than what I was used to being served in the Marshalls’ custody.

The next several months passed in much the same way.

Glares, sneers, snide remarks, the occasional shove, were all a normal part of my day, but by and large I was left alone, though it took a great deal of willpower not to strike back at the petty mistreatment. Until I wasn’t. About a year after I’d arrived at the orphans’ home, I came face to face with the boy that had tripped me in the dining room in the stairwell.

Do you know who I am? he snarled, towering over me.

Should I? I asked, feigning disinterest.

My name is Zaros. The fire that you started killed my family.

I didn’t start that fire, I snapped, and he snorted. "I didn’t. Ask the Marshalls yourself if you don’t believe me. They declared me innocent."

There’s a big difference between innocent and not guilty, he said, shoving me hard against the wall with one hand. "And this—this is for my family!"

He drew the other arm back, then tossed a cupful of water in my face.

My skin sizzled instantly, the sound muffled by my own agonized screaming as the water blistered and burned my face. I clawed at the liquid, scalding my hands in the process. The screaming went on and on—pain and screaming was all there ever was. All there ever would be.

Finally, the blessed relief of unconsciousness claimed me as the echo of vicious laughter chased me down into the inky darkness.

The next thing I knew, I woke up in the infirmary. Thick bandages were wrapped around my face, preventing me from speaking, but the nurse was kind enough to spoon broth into my mouth at mealtimes, careful not to spill a single drop onto my injured skin. The gauze and linens needed to be changed once a day. No matter how desperately I wished for oblivion, it failed to take me. Each time I was left gnashing my teeth and clutching the bed sheets with white knuckles until it was done, despite the sweet-smelling salve produced by the talented Winkie healers that provided some, but not enough, pain relief. Before the month was out, I was declared well enough to return to the dormitories. I hadn’t been allowed any visitors in the infirmary and was looking forward to seeing only one person.

Lilura was lying on her cot with her back to me when I found her. I touched her shoulder, jumping back as she cried out. Slipping around the cot, I crouched in front of her.

Lilura, what’s wrong?

Almira. She smiled wanly. You’re here.

Yes, sister, I am here.

Your face, she frowned, stroking a finger down my cheek where the blisters had not quite healed.

Never mind that now. What have they done to you?

The boy that hurt you— she groaned.

Zaros.

Yes. Well, he won’t be hurting you again.

Lilura! I gasped, fearing the worst. "You didn’t!"

He’s alive—never fear. But he won’t soon forget, that one, that he isn’t to touch you ever again. Panas gave me twenty lashes, but I couldn’t abide what Zaros did to you.

"He whipped you?" I surged to my feet.

She pulled down the curved collar of her blouse, revealing the angry red welts. My fury evaporated instantly, and I fished the small tin of salve the nurse had given me. Despite Lilura’s protest that I needed it more, I slathered the ointment over the terrible bloody crisscrossing lines on her back.

Am I so hideous, then? I teased, as she protested that I should save the ointment for myself.

No, of course not, she said, sitting up. You’re as beautiful as always.

Lilura, we can’t stay here, I said, ignoring her attempt to be kind.

She nodded, and we set about making plans to run away from the orphans’ home. We would need rations, but it would take a couple days to steal what we needed from the kitchens without drawing attention to ourselves. The dinner bell rang, and we made our way down to the dining room for the evening meal.

No angry eyes followed us this time.

As Lilura walked down the aisle the other orphans turned away, avoiding her golden gaze. I wondered what, exactly, she had done to Zaros, but she’d refused to tell me, no matter how many times I asked. We ate in peace, returning to the dormitories to complete our plans for escape with hushed whispers.

The next morning, Lilura and I were assigned well duty. Younger children received academic lessons during the day, but older ones were assigned chores. I was surprised Panas allowed us to work together, but maybe he was frightened to let us too near the others. Throughout the day, we made trip after trip to the well to haul water to the kitchen, until my arms ached from the strain. Lilura struggled through the pain of the welts on her back, and as the sun set, I ordered her inside to rest while I retrieved the last bucket.

I turned my head at a soft rustle in the grass but before I had a chance to see who was behind me, a hard shove between my shoulders sent me head over heels into the well. A brief scream was ripped from my throat as I scrabbled against the rough rock. Managing to catch a handhold just before I would have hit the water below, I nearly wrenched my arm out of its socket in the process. I looked up to see a figure peering into the well high above, silhouetted black against the late evening light. The clang of the bucket echoed as it was drawn upward out of my reach, taking with it any hope of climbing up the rope. The figure disappeared, leaving me in the dark, claustrophobic space.

Time slowed to a crawl as I clung to the rocks. My fingers had long since gone numb, and I held on by sheer will alone, terrified of the gently lapping well water. Hoarse from calling for help, I rested my forehead against the wall, ignoring the sting of the damp stone against my skin. Someone called my name, but it was a few seconds before I realized it was real and not a figment of my imagination.

Almira? Almira! Dear Lurline above, Almira is that you?

Lilura, I croaked, I’m here.

She lowered a rope down to me, and with my last, desperate vestige of strength, I climbed up with her help. Reaching the lip of the well was the greatest relief of my young life. I collapsed on the ground, sucking in deep breaths, and waited for my muscles to stop trembling. If I were capable of crying, I supposed I would be doing just that, I thought, despite the pain.

However did you get inside the well?

I was pushed. I sat up, still feeling weak. I didn’t see who.

This is outrageous, she yelled, getting to her feet and looking around at the darkness. That’s it. We’re leaving tonight.

Without another word, she slipped back inside the building and returned with the packs we’d hidden away. No alarm was raised as we disappeared into the darkness, and we relied upon the light of the stars above to guide us on our way. The sweet floral scent of the tall, yellow Winkie grass carried on the wind played with my hair and caressed my skin, reminding me of another time, when Lilura and I were much more innocent—and happy.

The next two days were blissful, wild, and free. Lilura and I wandered the countryside with no real destination in mind. We avoided towns until our rations ran low. She offered to go in alone, but I wouldn’t hear of it.

What can I get for you girls? the merchant asked from behind his counter, watching me with narrowed eyes.

Lilura handed him a list. He said it would take a moment to collect the items and disappeared into a back room. I didn’t care for how he had looked at me, but it really wasn’t so different from most people when they saw me for the first time.

Time.

He’s been gone too long, I warned Lilura, aware all at once that the man had been gone far too long.

It will be okay, don’t worry yet, she said, but chewed her lip as she looked around for the clerk.

Ten more minutes passed, and I was just reaching for Lilura’s arm when the bell above the door jingled. Two burly Marshalls walked in, scanning the interior. Shouting, they ordered us to hold still.

Lilura, I said, widening my stance.

Don’t Almira, just don’t.

We didn’t put up a fight when the Marshalls marched us out of the mercantile. Neither did we resist when Panas was summoned to fetch us, threatening to give us washroom duty for the next year. We did however find the strength to defend ourselves when a savage creature burst from the tall grass, growling fiercely.

Kalidah! Panas shrieked.

Lilura and I closed ranks, falling in step instinctually to defend the sniveling steward. The beast lost its footing on the brick road, scrabbling for purchase. Lilura made a sweeping, flowing motion with her hands, sending a windy blast at the snarling creature. At the same moment, I threw a sizzling ball of electricity square at its chest. One after another, we attacked the wild animal, driving it backwards until at last it fled, yelping in pain.

Silence reigned for several minutes after the vicious kalidah disappeared back into the tall yellow grass. Neither Lilura or I had ever had the occasion to use our magic to defend ourselves, and certainly not so suddenly. My hands trembled, and all at once my legs buckled. Plopping down onto the yellow bricks, I rested my forehead on my bent knees, sucking in deep, shuddering breaths.

"By the grace of Lurline, how?" Steward Panas asked, his voice full of awe.

You might have known, had you not forbidden us to use our magic, Lilura snapped.

She stood tall and regal, long yellow hair blowing like a banner in the breeze as her eyes glinted with golden fury. Panas balled his fists, raising his head with a frown, but just then, he looked more like a petulant schoolboy than the steward of a hundred orphans. Lilura helped me to my feet. My trembling had stopped, and we faced the man, shoulder to shoulder. He stared as us for several tense seconds, then suddenly a broad smile split his face.

Girls! What bravery! What courage! I had no idea you had it in you.

Lilura snorted and crossed her arms, looking at me with a sideways glance.

All of Oz must hear of your intrepid intervention!

Oh, I don’t think that’s— I started, but he interrupted me.

Nonsense, you both deserve all the esteem of great heroes. Quick now, let’s return to Couldbe.

He turned on his heel and strode away. Lilura and I looked at each other. I shook my head, sighed, then followed him. I got several steps before realizing Lilura wasn’t by my side. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw her standing in the middle of the road, a hard set to her mouth.

Lilura?

She looked back the way we had come, then met my eyes. Shaking her head slightly, she half-turned, but stopped once again to look at me. I raised my hand a few inches, not quite beseeching, as I couldn’t get past my stubborn pride. She sighed, but finally hurried to join me.

The remainder of our walk back to the orphans’ home was spent in silence. Lost in thought, I hardly noticed the miles passing under my feet. Lilura had nearly chosen her freedom over me, and I couldn’t ignore the sharp ache in my heart.

Chapter 3

True to his promise, Panas made a great deal of our return to Couldbe, much to the confusion of the other orphans. The Steward arranged for Lilura and I to be given a special room all to ourselves. I sat quietly on a new, plush mattress that was softer than anything I’d ever slept on before. Lilura joined me, reaching out a hand, then drawing it back uncertainly when I refused to look at her.

Almira, talk to me, she pleaded softly.

What is there to say?

I wasn’t really going to leave you.

We both know that isn’t true. I crossed my arms. "It’s always been you and me, together, when no one else understood us. And you almost abandoned me."

She frowned, opened her mouth to say something, but the evening meal bell rang. After wiping my face clear of travel grime, Lilura and I walked down to the dining hall without talking. Just like my first day at the orphans’ home, whispers followed our progress, adding to my discomfort.

Miss Almira, Miss Lilura, please come up here, Panas called, when we would have taken a seat at one of the long benches.

Alarmed, I looked at my adoptive sister, but she just shrugged nonchalantly. Panas and the proctors waited for us to settle into our chairs. I stared down at the table, my skin crawling with the weight of a hundred pairs of eyes turned my way.

I made it through the awkward meal, somehow, gritting my teeth ever time Panas sang our praises yet again. Finally, the meal came to an end, and I escaped into the sanctuary of the new room assigned to both Lilura and I. Reveling in the blessed silence, I lay upon the luxurious cot.

Swirling my fingers in a graceful pattern, I focused on the ceiling above me. Faint green sparks began a glittering dance, flitting all around like fire-beetles glowing in the golden fields at twilight. The door slammed hard and I lost my concentration. Sparkles shimmered and faded, cascading harmlessly to the bed around me.

You shouldn’t be doing that.

Why not? Panas thinks we’re heroes.

Still. The others will be resentful, Lilura warned, plopping down on the other cot.

Let them. I narrowed my eyes. Maybe now that they know what we can do, they’ll show us more respect.

Shrugging, she lay back and was soon sound asleep—a talent for which I’d always been envious.

The next morning, Panas surprised us yet again when a dressmaker arrived to take measurements for new clothes for the both of us. Lilura handled the ordeal much better than I did. When it came my turn to undress all the way down to my underthings, I balked.

No, I won’t do it!

Almira, she’ll be done before you know it, Lilura reasoned.

I can’t, I said, loathing the hitch in my voice, I can’t let her see ...

I’ll stay right here with you. Panas won’t let you defy him in this, please.

I resented feeling trapped. If I refused the steward’s gift and goodwill, who knew what lay in store for me? Doing as the dressmaker instructed, I bore the embarrassment of exposing more of my bare skin than I ever had before, as stoically as my tender years would allow.

Well, ladies, how did the fitting go? I’m sure you’re extremely happy to get something new and fancy.

I don’t mean to be ungrateful, Steward, but why? I asked.

"Because, my girls, I have the best present for you—I’ve summoned the Conclave!"

Everyone in Oz knew of the special council of witches that governed the Emerald City, established by Princess Ozma herself decades ago. She had disappeared mysteriously shortly afterwards, but the Conclave had carried on in her memory. Rumors of their great deeds had even reached the tiny town of Maybe. Surely it was nothing more than gossip, but nonetheless, the idea of meeting them in person was vexing.

Our new dresses were delivered in the morning, and though they fit perfectly, I was dismayed by the color chosen for me. At the fitting, I hadn’t once thought to ask about what it would actually look like. Lifting the full skirt, I frowned at the frothy pink layers. Pink! Could there be a more unflattering color against my green skin?

Oh, no, Almira what did they do?

Lilura stood in the doorway, dressed in a similar manner, though wearing a much more muted—and reasonable—shade of deep green. Torn between laughter and pity, she patted me on the shoulder. Leading me from our room, she told me that the Steward was expecting the Conclave emissary any moment but wanted a word with us first.

"Lilura! Almira! Don’t you look, ahem, lovely ..." his voice trailed off, and despite his compliment, the amusement was apparent on his face.

Gritting my teeth, I stood straight as a board, refusing to acknowledge us.

Steward Panas, a proctor called from the door, the emissary has arrived.

Panas excused himself, leaving Lilura and I to wait in the office alone. She fidgeted with the hem of her dress as she stared out the window. I remained standing where I was, forcing the anxious thoughts from my mind.

Girls, it’s time, Panas declared as he reentered the room.

We followed him in silence to the dining hall. The benches had been rotated so that when we sat, we would directly face the dais, currently occupied by the Conclave emissary. My first impression of the witch seated as if upon a throne was of an elaborately frilly ensemble, something and someone so outrageously feminine that I’d never seen anything like it.

The woman wearing the shocking garb wasn’t at all like I had expected. Golden curls cascaded around her shoulders and long, delicate fingers were clasped in her lap. Her mouth was set in a disinterested line—neither smiling, nor scowling—but it was her clear gray eyes that captured mine, sending a shiver of apprehension down my spine.

Panas, she clucked her tongue, are you really so negligent in teaching your wards their manners?

I cleared my throat, all at once both intimidated and outraged. I hadn’t been born into wealth or comfort, but I was no gutter trash to be talked to that way. Straightening my skirts to stop my hands from shaking—hands that desperately wanted to blast away at her smirking face—and lifted my chin, meeting her gaze with a confidence I