I didn’t have to imagine. The image would never leave me.

“No fur or wings?” I asked, trying to conceal a wince at the horrible memory. “Shouldn’t she be dead?”

The Tin Woodman’s eyes flickered. “She will be.”

He stepped away from me then, holding up the picture for everyone to take a second look.

“This monkey escaped from the Scarecrow’s lab late last night,” he said. “She was gravely injured. She could not have escaped without help from someone inside the palace.”

No one said anything. Abruptly, the Tin Woodman changed gears, his voice coldly demanding.

“Who is responsible for delivering hay to the Scarecrow’s chambers? Step forward.”

Everyone in the line hesitated, but one by one, four of us stepped forward, including me and Sindra. The Tin Woodman stared right at me, though. He stepped close again.

“You smell like smoke,” he said dispassionately.

Could he even smell with that metal face? Was this a ploy?

I blinked up at him innocently. “My room was close to the fire, sir,” I replied.

“Tell me your name, little maid.”

“Astrid,” I said, feeling less secure in my disguise spell than I had in days.

“Where are you from?”

“Gillikin Country,” I said.

Before he could ask any more questions, Jellia cleared her throat loudly behind him. “Your Greatness,” she said, addressing the Tin Woodman. “We have duties to attend to and we’re already off to a late start. Dorothy will be very disappointed if we don’t . . .”

The Tin Woodman gave me a last look. A long one. “Maids, so good at getting every single detail right,” he mused. He stepped away from me, addressing the rest of the line. “If any of you have information on our escaped monkey, you know where to find me. And don’t put the hay near the lanterns, you little fools.”

Metal hands clasped behind his back, the Tin Woodman strode from the room.

“Off to your duties, girls,” Jellia singsonged when he was gone. “Don’t dillydally. There’s more work to be done than ever.”

I was turning to follow Sindra when I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Jellia.

“Come with me,” she said. “I have a special task that you can help me with.”

That was unusual. My chest tightened, paranoia fluttering through me. Did Jellia know? Had she figured out that I swiped her keys? That I used them to help Maude escape? I studied her face, but it was as placid and cheerful as ever.

I didn’t have any choice except to go with her. As she led me out of the dining hall, I felt my knife whispering for me to call it. But I didn’t, not yet. I wasn’t entirely sure what Jellia was up to, but I didn’t totally distrust her. I would only have one chance to run. I had to make sure I took the right one.

“Of course this has to happen just so close to the ball,” Jellia chattered airily as we walked. “The Tin Woodman and his men are ripping apart every room. Turning over every cushion. They don’t care that we’ll have to clean it all up before Dorothy’s guests arrive. And Her Highness will not be pleased if even the slightest thing is out of place. Not to mention that mess in the Scarecrow’s room.”

It was the closest she’d ever come to complaining about anything. I followed along and listened, wondering what she was getting at.

“You know,” she continued. “I’ve worked in the palace for a long time. I was here before the Wizard, even. I was here during the Scarecrow’s rule. I was here when Ozma was still herself. I was here when Dorothy returned.”

“That is a long time,” I said, trying to sound noncommittal, but I was curious just the same, and not only about why she could appear to be a young girl after so many years working in the palace. I wondered why she was telling me all this—she had never opened up around me before. Maybe that hug yesterday really had made a difference. Maybe she just wanted to talk?

“Oz has been through many changes,” she went on. “Oh, people talk about the real Oz, but I don’t even know what they mean by that. Oz has rarely stayed the same for long. That’s the magic, of course. Always changing.”

We were climbing the stairs now. Jellia’s smile was different from her usual phony mannequin-grin. It was sad and faraway.

“I have some fairy blood, too, you know,” she said. By now I wasn’t even sure if she was talking to me or talking to herself. “Not anywhere near as much as Ozma, of course. Not enough to make much of a difference. But enough to know that things could have been different.”

Finally, we were at my room. I looked over at Jellia questioningly. Why had she brought me here?

“I want you to be sure that your room is tidy,” she explained. There was no hint in her voice that anything was out of the ordinary. “They’ll be searching all of them, of course, and I know that you can be sloppy from time to time. I wouldn’t want them to find it out of order. It would reflect badly on me.”

She stared at me meaningfully. This was a warning. I don’t know how much Jellia knew, but she’d brought me here, taken me away from my chores so that I could make sure everything was in order. So that I wouldn’t get busted.

“Jellia, I—”

She held up her hand. “I’ll expect you in the kitchen for dishes shortly.”

Without another word, she walked away. But when I opened the door and stepped inside, I realized I was too late. Everything was out of place. The sheets had been stripped. The mattress had been cut down the center, feathers spilling everywhere.