The morning of Glinda’s arrival, the palace was a hive of activity. Servants ran back and forth, putting up decorations and frantically cleaning. Delicious smells from the kitchen filled the halls. I inspected every maid I passed, making sure everyone’s uniform was spotless and perfectly fitted. When I heard the clatter of carriages from the courtyard that signaled Glinda’s arrival, my heart skipped a beat. If everything wasn’t perfect, I’d be the one to pay for it.
Dorothy and Glinda shut themselves up in Dorothy’s chambers as soon as Glinda entered the palace. I spent the rest of the afternoon making sure that everything in the banquet hall was ready for Glinda’s big welcoming dinner. The long table was heaped with white flowers that released a gentle aroma of jasmine into the air. The crystal chandeliers glittered. The tablecloth was a snowy, spotless white, richly embroidered with silver thread. Every place was set just so. Even Dorothy, I thought, couldn’t find fault with anything here.
But that night, as we served dinner to Dorothy, Glinda, and her entourage, everything in the palace felt off. The air snapped with tension, and all the servants were nervous. I looked around and noticed Ozma wasn’t present. Dorothy sulked at her end of the table, her habitual fake smile replaced with a sullen scowl. Glinda sat next to her, and the two of them talked quietly on their own. I moved back and forth between the kitchen and the banquet hall, trying to catch snippets of their secretive conversation.
“How are the Scarecrow’s experiments coming, Dorothy? Are we on schedule to begin mining?”
“He’s doing his best,” Dorothy mumbled. “But we’re all worried about you-know-who. If you had better control over your sister—”
“My sister is unimportant,” Glinda snapped, cutting her off sharply.
“But he’s a danger to all of us,” Dorothy said petulantly. “Who knows why he’s returned? Or what his plan is?”
“My spies tell me that he hasn’t returned; he never left Oz at all. He may be throwing his lot in with the Wicked . . .” Glinda’s voice was cool and calculating. I couldn’t quite catch the end of her sentence, and it wouldn’t do to show I was listening. The wicked what? I wondered. “And we don’t yet know for a fact that he means to depose you,” Glinda said, her voice low. “His power—”
She cut herself off, looking at me. I lowered my eyes. “Go get more wine, won’t you, Jellia?” she said sweetly. “And you mustn’t pay attention to Dorothy and me. We’re just indulging in silly gossip!” She tittered gaily; it was like watching an eagle try to sound like a mouse.
“Yes, Your Eminence,” I said, curtsying quickly and turning to obey her request. The Wizard, I thought, my mind spinning as I went back to the kitchen. They were talking about the Wizard—they had to be. And Glinda was helping Dorothy—which meant that she must know about Dorothy’s slow takeover of the palace. Did Glinda know what was wrong with Ozma? Could the Wizard really have returned to Oz? And if he had, what did that mean for us? Had he returned to overthrow Ozma and take back the throne? Or did he realize that Dorothy was out of control? Was he trying to regain control of Oz—or protect it? And what exactly was the Scarecrow working on?
Astrid, one of the youngest servants, tripped on her way from the kitchen to the dining hall, bringing my thoughts back to the moment. I was right behind her and watched in dismay as she dropped the platter of roast beef she was carrying and burst into tears. “I’m—I’m—I’m sorry,” she sobbed, falling to her knees and trying to pick up the shattered pieces; she only succeeded in soaking her dress in the messy remains of the roast. I looked around quickly. Thankfully, we were alone in the corridor and no one had seen her blunder.
“It’s all right,” I said gently, hauling her to her feet. “I’ll make sure a Munchkin cleans this mess up.” I eyed her dress. Magic in the castle was strictly forbidden among the help, but I’d risked it before when trouble brewed. Besides, Dorothy was already tipsy so I didn’t think she’d notice, and being shorthanded at the banquet could end in disaster.
“Here,” I said, tugging at her dress and concentrating. I could feel the warm buzz in my hands, and Astrid gasped as the stains disappeared.
“Th-thank you, Jellia,” she whispered. She seemed shocked—almost as if she’d never seen a staff member do magic before. I’d always assumed everyone else here used it when they were in a fix.
“You can’t go back into the hall with that face. Smile.” I dabbed the remaining tears out of her eyes with the corner of my apron and looked at her sternly as her mouth quivered. “I mean really smile, Astrid. Go back to the kitchen and don’t carry anything to Dorothy until you look like you mean it.” It would be handy, I thought, if there were some spell that could keep all of us permanently smiling; Dorothy was only too happy to dole out punishment at random to anyone who didn’t look like they were having the absolute best time of their lives in her company. That was a hard level of happiness to fake.
“Yes, Jellia,” she whispered, and fled.
But that wasn’t the end of her mishaps for the evening. A few minutes later, as I topped off Dorothy’s wineglass yet again, a rigid grin fixed across my own features, Astrid came back into the banquet hall with a fresh platter of roast beef. Instead of a smile, her face bore an expression of terror. I caught her eye and tried to signal her to turn around, but it was too late. Dorothy could spot suffering from across a room like a cat on the prowl for errant mice. “Annabel,” she crooned, her voice dripping with lethal sweetness. “Come over here with that.” Astrid’s eyes went wide in fear. At Dorothy’s feet, Toto growled from his jeweled velvet pillow. Not for the first time, I thought that I’d have sacrificed a body part if it meant I could throw that wretched dog out a window. A very high window. Astrid rounded the banquet table with her platter and came to stand on Dorothy’s other side.
“Your Majesty,” she said, her voice shaking. Technically, Ozma was the only person in the palace we should have addressed as “Your Majesty,” since technically she was still the queen. But Dorothy was only too happy not to correct us. Soon we won’t even notice she’s taken over everything, I thought. The expression on Dorothy’s face was different than I’d ever seen it—instead of her usual scowl of adolescent petulance, she looked positively malevolent. A chill ran down my spine. Something was very, very wrong. I have to get Astrid out of here, I thought frantically, taking a step forward. But it was too late.
“Annie,” Dorothy crooned. “I’ve been waiting for the roast all evening. Jellia told me it’s extra special tonight. Was there a problem in the kitchen, Astrid?”
“A p-problem, Your Majesty?”
“Something that might cause such a significant delay with the service,” Dorothy said, her voice dripping honeyed menace. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Whatever happened next was not going to be good. “It must have been something simply disastrous, to keep a guest as honored as Glinda waiting.”
Astrid’s mouth trembled, her smile widening desperately and then faltering altogether. From the other end of the table, Glinda laughed. “Now, Dorothy,” she said. “There’s no need to be upset. I’m perfectly content.”
“This is my palace!” Dorothy shrieked, all the syrupy sweetness gone from her voice. Her eyes blazed as she reached out and grabbed Astrid’s arm, sending the platter clattering to the floor and the roast flying for the second time. Dorothy’s glossy red talons dug into Astrid’s flesh, and tears filled Astrid’s eyes as a trickle of blood ran down her arm. “You know what we do in my palace with servants who cannot perform their tasks properly?” She released Astrid’s blood-streaked arm and leaned back in her chair.
Glinda put one pale hand on Dorothy’s arm. “Not yet, Dorothy,” Glinda said, so low I almost missed it. “The time is not yet.” I stared at Dorothy, my mouth half open in horror. She’d been cruel before, entitled and prone to outbursts. But I’d never seen her do anything like this.
“No, Your Majesty!” Astrid cried, sinking to her knees and sobbing. “Please, Your Majesty, I’m sorry—I’m so sorry—it will never happen again—miss, please, don’t hurt me—”
“That’s enough,” I said sharply. Dorothy looked up at me, her eyes narrowed with surprise. “I made a mistake with the order of the dishes. There’s no need to punish Astrid.” I added a hasty and belated, “Your Majesty.”
“Is that so,” Dorothy said. Her sudden calm was even more terrifying than her rage of moments ago. “Really, Jellia, you disappoint me.”
“The servants are my responsibility,” I said.
“Are you disagreeing with how I choose to discipline them?”
I took another deep breath. If I could distract Dorothy and calm her down, we might all get out of this banquet unscathed. “Of course not, Your Majesty,” I said. “As always, your wisdom is boundless. But I should have known that—that”—I racked my brain and hit on an idea—“I should have known that Astrid was too young to wait on such an important guest. The pressure was too much for her. She’s just nervous, Your Eminence—please, there’s no need to punish her.” I curtsied in Glinda’s direction for good measure, and caught an evil little smile flicker across her face and vanish again.
“Your head maid is a feisty little thing, isn’t she?” Glinda said, turning from Dorothy to me. “Come here.” Surprised, I looked at Dorothy, whose expression was uncertain. Astrid, forgotten, began to creep away from the table on her hands and knees.
“Obey Glinda, Jellia,” Dorothy snapped. I curtsied again and walked over to where Glinda was seated. She’d barely touched her food; her plate was still full. From a distance, she was beautiful; up close, she was even more so. Her soft strawberry-blond curls framed her heart-shaped, ageless face. Her eyes were a bright, cornflower blue. She was wearing a pale pink ball gown sewn together out of what looked like tiny scales of leather; the effect was almost like armor, but still managed to be pretty. She stretched out one delicate, immaculately manicured hand and gripped my chin, turning my face back and forth as she studied me like a bug under a magnifying glass. Her blue eyes bored into me and I felt as though I were falling into a bottomless pool, sinking deeper and deeper below the surface as I helplessly watched the sunlight recede above me and the darkness intensify all around me. You’re supposed to be the Good Witch, I thought faintly. But the look in Glinda’s eyes was cold, hard, appraising.
“You can’t just have my maid,” Dorothy said indignantly. Her voice broke the spell. I inhaled sharply, as though I’d just been underwater. “She’s mine.” What was she talking about?
“Just for the summer,” Glinda said, her eyes not leaving my face. “You can have her back just as soon as I’m done with her, Dorothy. You wouldn’t begrudge me this one favor, would you? After everything I’ve done for you?” Her voice was so syrupy I swore I could see the words oozing out of her mouth and flowing across the table toward Dorothy like a pink, sugary tide. Dorothy blinked, her mouth falling open a little, as the thick, shimmering liquid slid up the front of her dress and into her open mouth. Dorothy licked her lips, which glistened as though they’d been dipped in sugar. I blinked. I wasn’t imagining it.
“Just for the summer,” she whispered. But Glinda wasn’t looking at her; she was still staring at me.
You see it, don’t you, little girl? You can see the magic, not just feel it. I heard her voice inside my mind, but her lips weren’t moving. Her fingers tightened on my chin and I went rigid with terror. I had never been so frightened in my life. You don’t even know what you are, do you? You haven’t the faintest idea, she crooned inside my skull. I can make much use of you, child. Much use indeed. She let me go and I staggered backward, nearly falling to the floor. Around us, the guests who’d fallen silent during Dorothy’s tantrum began to chat nervously again, and the buzz of conversation filled the banquet hall. The servants, moving hesitantly at first and then with more confidence, refilled glasses and cleared plates, brought out trays piled with colorful desserts. The room returned to normal for everyone but me.
“Just for the summer,” Glinda said pleasantly. “I think it will be such a wonderful time. Don’t you, Jellia?”
My heart hammering in my chest, my limbs finally released from her terrible power, I answered in the only way I could. I turned and fled the room.