Sometimes it felt like we were in the middle of some argument that I had already lost. He was just so sure of everything. But what if he was sure about something that was more wrong than right? I didn’t know what to say to that so I didn’t say anything until we got to the opening of my cave. I dragged my fingers through my freshly colored hair and mumbled a good night.

“I liked it before.”

“What?” I asked, turning back to him.

“That face.”

“My face?” He liked my face before? Was this a setup for some kind of insult?

“Don’t get me wrong, Glamora’s magic is effective. But it’s almost a shame to see it change. I haven’t seen one with so much written there—every thought right there on the surface. It’s a rare thing in a place like this.” For the first time I didn’t think that he was trying to hurt me. Maybe he spoke only one language. The truth, and nothing but. It had stung like hell, but it made what he was saying now sound all the more real. In a place like this, that little bit of truth might be a compass in an upside-down world.

“But I suppose Glamora’s thinking ahead. If you’re going to fight Dorothy, you need to build a wall instead of a window.”

“Is that what you did?”

He shrugged noncommittally.

“I don’t think mine was ever a window.” His chin jutted up the tiniest bit further into the air, like he was rising above something.

I wanted to know what. But he was already walking away.

The next day I woke to see that Glamora’s makeoever had stuck. Pink cheeks, perfect hair. But the change in my appearance didn’t help me with my lessons.

In the morning I saw Nox for training, which resulted in more bruises for me to wash off in the spring. With Gert, I still wasn’t able to produce any magic. Finally, almost out of sympathy for me, she cast a listening spell with the snap of her fingers and we listened to Glamora singing in her room. Later, I found some small success with Glamora. I poured tea without spilling a drop.

After dinner I found a trunk in my room filled with dresses. A note in Glamora’s purple cursive said Wear one.

Was it a reward? Was it possible that in all my classes, I was doing best at the etiquette? If Mom could see me now . . .

I sifted through the gowns and pulled out a pretty pale gray one that somehow complemented my hair. It was strapless silk and floor-length. Although I wasn’t much of a fan of dresses, this one seemed to know exactly where to hug and exactly where to fall. I didn’t know if magic could be woven into fabric or not, but it was perfect.

A few seconds later, a bat wearing a purple ribbon flew in, landing on my bed.

It wore a note around its neck, written in the same purple script: Follow me.

I followed the bat deeper into the labyrinth of the mountains into a cave I hadn’t been in before. It was totally Glamora, grand, like old movie Grand-with-a-capital-G. A real crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, and a bank of what I could only guess were windows along one wall overlooked a stunningly realistic panorama of the Emerald City. But the real spectacle was beneath my feet. The floor was made of glass, and underneath it was rushing water. It must be the water that fed the spring. The effect was like standing on top of a river. It made me dizzy—for a second I almost lost my balance.

“It’s not nearly the same as my ballroom back home, but it will have to do. . . .” I spun around at the sound of Glamora’s voice to find her in the corner, watching me.

Just then, Nox appeared in the doorway of the cave.

“You didn’t wear the suit?” Glamora accused sweetly.

Nox made a face and shook his head, as if whatever she’d left for him was too awful for him to even consider.

Glamora waved her arms and music filled the air. It was somewhere between jazz and pop with a soulful pretty voice that wrapped and unwrapped itself around the beat. It was a love song. If I didn’t know better I would think that Glamora was trying to play at matchmaking. . . .

“Very well, but a gentleman never keeps a lady waiting,” Glamora insisted.

I stifled a laugh, not sure which was funnier: the idea of me being a lady or him being a gentleman.

But the laugh didn’t escape because Nox was striding toward me, rearrranging his face and his swagger to make it seem like this was his idea entirely.

He gave a little bow. His pointy hair didn’t even move when he bent over. I curtsied, determined not to give in too easily to what must be another one of Glamora’s etiquette lessons.

Nox took my hand and pulled me closer, putting a sure hand on the small of my back, steadying me. We began to dance. I breathed him in against my will. He smelled like the healing spring back in the caves, fresh and alive and full of magic.

Glamora called orders at us after every rotation we made around the room.

“Posture!”

“I don’t know how they dance where you’re from, but here in Oz no one leads.”

“You are equal partners in the dance. In the circle. In life.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that one.

“Are you ever serious?” Nox finally demanded, but even he was starting to break under Glamora’s ridiculous instruction.

“Are you ever not?”

The dance wasn’t quite a waltz—something that I’d never done but had seen in enough old movies on TV. It was more of an elaborate pentagram that crisscrossed the room over and over.

Another couple appeared beside us—a pretty woman with caramel skin and green hair, and a handsome man beside her in a top hat. I opened my mouth to ask who they were.