When he looked up again, it was to find Dorothy staring at him and, for the first time in years, he wished he could hide his face. The blackened rings of bone held his silver locks tightly in place, however, showcasing his iron mutilation. Heavens above, what was he doing? Clearly, he’d gone too long without a female. When this job was finished, he needed a good fuck. It might take a while to find a brothel willing to serve him, but he’d pay an exorbitant price for their worst girl if that was what it took.
“I know it’s none of my business, but will you tell me what happened to your face, Tin?” Dorothy asked in a quiet, thoughtful voice.
Tin sighed. “What does it matter?”
“It matters a lot.” The tacky mud along the riverbank squished when she stood and came closer to him. “Tell me who I need to kill, because I don’t think you did this to yourself.”
He stiffened at her words. The thought of Dorothy killing anyone made him irrationally protective of her and her still-pure heart. He didn’t understand why. Besides, his truth would change her opinion of him, and he wasn’t sure he wanted that. It wasn’t that Tin was ashamed of the events leading up to the Wizard’s punishment. He rarely felt anything more than anger and resignation since his heart hardened again, but if Dorothy knew what he was… If she knew he was an assassin—the best assassin in Oz—she would look at him like everyone else did. It would also lead to suspicions he couldn’t afford. Lion could’ve hired anyone with knowledge of portals to bring Dorothy back if it was a friendly visit.
But he didn’t. He’d hired Tin.
Tin, whose resume boasted thousands of kills and a distinct lack of morals, was once Dorothy’s friend. They’d bonded as they traveled the yellow brick road together with Lion and Crow. If Oz had managed to truly break the Heartless Curse placed on Tin by the Gnome King, Lion’s coin wouldn’t weigh down his pocket now. But it hadn’t worked. Lion knew that—all of Oz knew—which was likely why Lion hired Tin specifically.
If Lion’s lover lopped off Dorothy’s pretty little head and wore it as if it was her own, what was it to Tin? Nothing. So what if Langwidere continued terrorizing the South while pretending to be the savior of Oz?
“The Wizard did it,” he said before he could stop himself. What did it matter if he told Dorothy how he was branded? She wouldn’t be around long enough for it to make a difference and he could leave out certain details. So, he took a cloth from his bag to dry his axe and continued, “I was convicted of murder after the curse returned. Before that, I was one of the Wizard’s bodyguards, so he let me off easy. Instead of having me publicly executed, he poured a single drop of molten iron upon me for each life I took.”
Dorothy’s eyes grew impossibly wide. “How many fae did you kill?”
Tin finished drying his axe, stood, and put the sharp blade back at his hip. “I didn’t stick around to count. Dozens by then, I suppose. The eleven lords were what got me caught, though.”
“But…” She paused, and Tin tried to read the mixture of horrified emotions on her face. It was impossible. “Oz would never do something so horrible to anyone!”
He scoffed. Dorothy had to be the only person in Oz—in all the fae lands—who would doubt the Wizard punished Tin. There had nearly been a riot when he wasn’t sentenced to death. “Do you really want those answers, Dorothy? You won’t like them.”
“Of course I want the answers!”
Tin stepped closer and leaned down, perhaps too close, to give her a good look at the shining metal on his cheek. Past the blood still coating her clothing, a lingering scent of her soap mixed with his own scent from the night before struck his nostrils. Dorothy’s eyes seemed to trace over each twisting path of iron. His skin had burned around the iron, and had never stopped. Burned and burned and burned until his only option was to embrace the pain. It was the ever-present ember that kept his rage smoldering even on his best day.
“One night, I left a gaming hall in the capital slightly inebriated and found the owner’s son harassing a female outside. It didn’t seem wrong to snap his neck—it still doesn’t seem wrong. He deserved his fate. The female, less so, but she refused to stop screaming.”
He stopped then. Stopped and waited for Dorothy to do the same. After hearing that story, the only sane response would be to run. Instead, she looked at him with pity, and there was nothing worse than that.
“I burned down the entire gambling hall afterward,” he said to erase her expression. “If anyone tried to escape the inferno, I took them down with my axe. And that was only the beginning.”
Tin had no idea what had come over him that night. The two deaths outside had been warranted, but not the rest. The Wizard should’ve had him killed for that first act—it would’ve saved a lot of lives. Since Oz had granted mercy though, Tin had schooled himself. He may not have a heart anymore, but that didn’t mean he wanted to die. Murderous rampages were only tolerated if the coin purse was heavy enough now.
“Terrified of me yet?” he asked with a sneer. “Don’t worry. You’re safe as long as you’re with me. Lion is paying me to deliver you alive and well. Finish getting cleaned up. I’ll be just a few trees away.”
Dorothy bit down on her bottom lip and met his gaze. Instead of fear, Tin found sorrow. Pity, as it turned out, wasn’t the worst look he could receive.
Chapter Six
Dorothy
Exhaustion had taken over Dorothy’s whole body from traveling—her slip-on shoes had done nothing except cause her feet to hurt. What she needed were boots like Tin wore, but it wasn’t as if there was a store right around the corner in the middle of nowhere. Only fruit trees and a broken brick road surrounded them.
After washing the remainder of the blood and grime from herself as best she could at the river, she and Tin kept heading south, only stopping when he slayed something for them to eat. He remained quiet—she remained inquisitive. The world around her was broken … like Tin … like her, even the trees appeared melancholic, with their drooping branches. Tin wasn’t the same fae she’d once known. He was a murderer, but he was what he was because this place had turned him that way.
Should she hate him? Yes. Was she frustrated with him? Yes. Did she feel pity for him? Yes…
Dorothy knew Tin wanted to take her to Lion, and the fae had been desperate enough to pay another to bring her to him. Perhaps Lion was cowardly once more, or he would have come for her himself. This was all the Wizard’s fault for making them believe that happiness could be permanent, that by her returning home everything would be perfect—it wasn’t.
After she reunited with Lion, how would she even be able to help him? Dorothy no longer had the sparkling silver slippers to provide her with magic.
In the distance, something achingly familiar caught her attention, making her heart thump wildly: a city—the Emerald City. Lion… Tin… What she needed was someone else, someone who was braver than anyone she knew. Crow. He’d said he would remain in the city, that he’d needed to think about things.
Dorothy whirled to the side at the thought of Crow, almost gripping one of Tin’s strong arms, absently wondering how firm it would feel beneath her fingertips… She shook away the thought and kept her minimal distance.