“A throne,” Lion commented.
Langwidere circled the fire once before sitting down. She crossed her legs and propped her elbows on the arms of the chair. “As any queen would have.”
Lion approached the fire and held his hands out to warm himself after traveling from the Emerald City. Early spring had left him with a deep chill. “Queen of what, my lady? You may have taken control of the West after Dorothy killed Reva, but Glinda still rules the South. That’s what you really want, isn’t it? Without the South, how will you ever have enough power to take the rest of Oz from Locasta?”
Langwidere wrapped her fingers around the ends of the chair. “Is that what Oz told you?”
“No.” Lion looked across the flames at her, sitting so regally with someone else’s head on her shoulders. “I wasn’t the fae without a brain, dearest Langwidere. It’s easy enough to see your intentions and you can be sure that I’m not the only one. Which is why I think you should take the Wizard up on his proposal.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You tread on thin ice.”
“That’s half the fun.”
“Out with it before I toss you from my home,” she warned.
Lion let his arms drop back to his sides. “Oz is succumbing to his love of faerie fruit—which I’m not to tell you but I’m sure you know as you’re rumored to be the one who got him addicted to it. He’s losing his grip on the capital right along with his mind. Without the Emerald City, he holds no sway over the territories or their leaders.”
A small smirk graced her lips. “I fail to see the problem with this.”
“Nor do I. We never should’ve allowed a mortal to rule over fae lands, which is why you should accept his offer.”
“You make no sense, Lion.”
He grinned widely, proud of his plan. “He wants you to acquire a new head. A specific powerful head that belongs to someone who won’t fall in line. In exchange, he will legitimize your claim to the West.”
“Will he?” Langwidere’s laugh bounced off the walls. “It’s already mine with or without his acceptance.”
“Yes.” Lion’s wicked grin grew, showing his perfectly white teeth. “But if you appear to fail the job Oz gave you, with the simple change of a head, you could take a territory without anyone being the wiser.”
Langwidere leaned forward. “And what would you get out of this?”
“You, obviously.” When Langwidere opened her mouth, outrage written on her face, he held up a hand to stop her. “I want to be valued for my service. Use me, my lady. Make yourself a queen and me your knight.”
The crackle of the fire was the only sound in the room. Lion knew this was a long shot. Langwidere’s loyalties were largely unknown, other than to herself. There was an equal chance she’d tell Oz of his betrayal as there was of her accepting his help. He was banking on her seeing the genius of his plan. Fail in appearance only and gain both a territory and a new head.
With a sharp clap, Langwidere summoned a servant. A young female on all fours rolled into the room with wheels fused to her hands and feet. Her limbs were long and slender, her spine curved to accommodate her posture. A white ribbon, stained red with blood where it pierced her skin, sealed her mouth shut. How did she eat? Lion’s stomach twisted as the female’s pink irises focused on her master. She was no servant—she was a slave. And he’d just offered himself into Langwidere’s control.
“Show Lion to a guest chamber. Make sure he feels at home until I decide what to do with him.”
Lion tore his gaze away from the slave and gave Langwidere a playful smile. This would be a test of wills. He didn’t want power for himself—that was too much responsibility—he simply wanted to be close to power. To be needed and important now that he had the courage to become someone of note. He only hoped it would be worth it.
Chapter Four
Langwidere
So Lion wanted to be her knight... This was making everything so much easier. It was as though all the heads were falling into place.
Langwidere would not only have the West but the South as well. And one day, not soon, she planned to take Locasta’s territories, too. But for now, she would need to build little by little, and take it slowly.
She gazed at the male before her, wondering if he could truly pass her test. Lion’s beauty could spin tales, but she’d also heard of his cowardice. Had he truly gained the courage that would be required?
“I’m tired of wearing this,” Langwidere said in a bored tone. New day, new head. “Come, Lion. We must prove your worth.”
He nodded, shifting his stance, his golden eyes seeming to dance beneath the light. “Of course we must.”
Pivoting on her heels, Langwidere walked down the hallway, her ivory dress swishing against her legs. Lion followed behind her, too close, almost predatory. He was lucky he wasn’t female because his face was one of the most beautiful she’d ever seen. But there were plenty of other ways he’d be beneficial—instead of wearing him one way, she could wear him another. His skin pressed against hers.
The rows of curio cabinets slipped into view, all the heads at the same angle and position. Their expressions were all the same, frozen, lifeless, until their flesh connected with Langwidere’s.
Langwidere whirled to face Lion, pressing her hand to his cheek. “Choose one you like.” She was curious as to what his type was. Would he select one that had raven-colored hair like she originally used to have, or something the color of wheat? Perhaps one with a button nose or freckles? Did he prefer full or thin lips?
She thought about her original head, the one she’d burned to ash once she’d collected her first prize to replace the old. The kill had come from a fae before the female was to be married, already dressed in a white gown. On Langwidere’s body, the head appeared much better—as did the white dress. After that, Langwidere no longer had to think about her disfigurements of her original face—the uneven eyes, the missing nose, the crooked mouth.
He cocked his head and scanned the cabinets. “I like them all.”
“If you could have only one for a night, whose lips would you want yours pressed against.” She tapped her fingers against her thigh, waiting for him to choose wrong.
Lion sauntered around the room, his tail swinging back and forth. He looked at each face before lifting his index finger and pointing to the glass to his left. “That one.” It was a female with porcelain skin, ruby red lips, and thick black curls. Hair like she used to have. He’d made the right choice.
“If you are to be my knight,” Langwidere said, inching toward the glass, “next time you answer me right away.”
“I will.”
“Zo!” Langwidere called as she opened the glass, then she turned to Lion’s confused face. “The Wheeler who was in here earlier. I took her and the others from the border near the Deadly Desert, and now they’re mine.”
“Such extravagant … creatures.”
Zo rolled to a stop, silent forever by the string in her mouth. The string was sewn in by Langwidere of course. But the Wheelers willingly volunteered.
“Zo, can you bring Lion a white robe?”