Tin wrapped a hand over her mouth. “Leaving. She’s leaving.” He pushed her through the door and out toward the yellow brick road. Tired of his coldness already, she bit his hand and he cursed, quickly removing it.
“What was that about?” she asked.
“Don’t mention your name to anyone, understand?” He shook his hand out then balled it into a fist. “It’s dangerous.”
“I’m not fae. People can call me Dorothy Gale all they want, and I can’t be controlled.” She wondered what Tin’s full name was, but she knew he would never tell her. And if he did, she’d control him right then.
He sighed. “Everyone knows what you did before, and while a lot are happy about it, some aren’t. You’ll eventually understand why.”
Dorothy took a deep swallow, as she peered at the unkempt village, wondering how defeating the Wicked Witch of the West would make people unhappy. “But—”
“That’s enough.”
She could tell he was in no mood to say anything else on that matter. “Fine, but I really do need something to eat.” Her stomach twisted and turned—it had been without anything since early the day before.
With a frustrated shake of the head, he pointed to a fruit tree up the road.
She narrowed her eyes. “I can’t eat faerie fruit.” Crow had warned her what it did to mortals, and apparently, the Wizard was addicted to it. Even when she’d met him, he hadn’t seemed completely sane, so perhaps he was back then too.
“Mmm, too bad then.”
She scowled.
He pointed again toward the trees. “There are some past those with various nuts.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me.”
Dorothy stepped onto the yellow brick road and stared at the withering houses as she passed. Her heart beat rapidly as she gathered nuts into the pockets of her overalls while stepping on several to crack them open.
Tin ate a few, then bit into a luscious-looking piece of fruit before they started back down the yellow path toward the South. The breeze held a tinge of coolness as it blew around them. The trees shuffled and swayed as Dorothy watched brownies and faeries swarm around the yellow and orange fruit.
As they trekked farther and farther away from Dwarf Country, where only forestry surrounded them, something wobbled beneath her feet, catching her off balance.
She peered down and gasped at the cracked, shifted rectangular pieces. “What happened to the yellow brick road?”
Tin only shook his head and continued walking past her.
“What happened?” Dorothy asked again. The road was not only a faded yellow now but there were cracks, some broken bricks, others missing, as though a tornado had run itself across the once beautiful path.
“Most of the Emerald City and outlying areas have been destroyed.” He shrugged with nonchalance. “None of the territories are what they used to be.”
“But not Glinda’s, right? The South is okay, isn’t it?” It couldn’t be that bad if that was where they were headed, could it?
He paused. “You ask too many questions. That’s where we’re headed because that’s where Lion is.”
“I defeated the Wicked Witch of the West. My house landed on the Wicked Witch of the East. Things should be better.” There was Locasta of the North and Glinda of the South. Both were good and both had planned to share the territories that the wicked had held.
“Once a villain dies, another always rises. Good doesn’t always conquer evil. Besides, why do you care? You left Oz and never looked back.”
She grasped his arm and spun him around, her anger boiling. “I never stopped looking back! I went home, Tin. But that didn’t mean I didn’t ever want to return! I couldn’t! No one ever came to me, I never found another portal, and the people in my world didn’t believe me. I was locked away for months at a time. People hurt me, physically and emotionally. Do you even know what that’s like?”
His expression slipped for a moment, only briefly, but it was there. He’d looked as though he wanted to give a full answer, but then he simply said, “No.”
“That’s right, because you have a heart of stone.” Her nostrils flared.
“And you are but a lowly mortal.” He shrugged and walked away.
Her anger rose, and she clenched her fists. She would head to the South by herself, but not before she forced him to show some emotion.
She lunged forward, yanked the axe from his grip, and took off with a heavy sprint. It may have been childish to steal his weapon, but she didn’t care. He was irritating her to no end.
Behind her, the pound of his feet reverberated, but she was quickly gaining space between them. Then a body slammed into her from the side, knocking her to the ground. She released hold of the axe and shouted in Tin’s face, “You’re the new coward! Somehow since I’ve been gone, you’ve inherited Lion’s old ways.”
But it wasn’t Tin’s silver irises she was looking at; it was something else, with reddened eyes and saliva dripping from its mouth. A man with rotting skin and clumps of hair missing—mortal—one who had eaten too much faerie fruit.
As the man snapped his teeth down toward her face, the slice of a weapon came across his neck. The head vanished and hot blood sprayed Dorothy.
All that remained was a headless body slumped on her chest, warm blood pooling out from the dead man’s neck.
Strong hands yanked Dorothy up by her arms, the still body falling from her. Two silver eyes met hers, blazing with fury.
“I told you Oz isn’t the same,” Tin said through gritted teeth. “Now, are you going to listen to me?”
She quickly nodded, even though it wasn’t entirely true, but right then she would.
Chapter Five
Tin
Humans and fae didn’t have much in common, but neither seemed to listen to sense. Apparently, Dorothy was one of them—even if she had just agreed to start. With a snarl on his lips, Tin stared down at the blood-soaked woman. The faerie fruit addict’s body sprawled at their feet, his head tossed aside, and his blood coating Dorothy’s face. He had expected her to cry or scream. It was good she hadn’t. Little was worse than getting a mouthful of blood, especially that of a mortal addicted to faerie fruit. Something about the fruit made it disgustingly bitter. He’d found that out the hard way, completely by accident, when he’d assassinated a human at the beginning of his career in exchange for a week of room and board. He should’ve expected a good amount of blood to spurt from the thing’s neck and stood to the side, but live and learn… More dangerous for Dorothy, the blood carried a scant trace of the fruit’s addictive properties.
“Are you sure you’re going to listen now?” Tin growled at Dorothy. “Because it will make saving you repeatedly a real hassle if you don’t have any coin.”
Dorothy shook in his grip, undoubtedly from the shock settling in, mixed with fury. “You’d charge me to save my life?”
“I charge per kill.” It was double the price if a client charged headfirst into trouble and made things more difficult. Tin released her to settle his bloody axe back on his hip. They would stop at the first body of water to wash off the weapon and their filth before the scent attracted fae beasts. “Since you didn’t know that, and given our history, there’s no charge for this one.”