“Not a party,” I clarified. “A wedding. With musicians, and canapés, and pretty dresses, and a battalion of servants, and a mandatory dress code, and a feast. Wine and spirits.”

Dress code. Inspiration hit me. Amy would have an even better chance of getting into the palace if the guests wore disguises. “In fact,” I said, “let’s make our wedding a costume ball. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

He looked at me for a long time. I could tell he was running through what I’d just said, trying to figure out what I was up to. The game was back on. I hid an exhilarated smile.

“That does sound fun,” he said thoughtfully. “I believe we once did that sort of thing here, ages ago. I even went to these balls you speak of. Though it’s been a century or two, and I do think fashions might have changed.”

“Balls never go out of fashion,” I said at once, pressing my advantage. “And how often will you be married, my darling?”

“Only once, I hope,” he said drily, looking at me. I kept my smile even and serene. “Would you like . . . help in planning our ball?”

“Just your guest list,” I said brightly. “And perhaps a few connections to the kitchen staff.”

He smiled, showing all his teeth. “Certainly, darling. Let me know if you need any help. But our wedding will take place tomorrow regardless.”

“Tomorrow?” I said, trying not to show my shock.

“I simply cannot wait a moment longer to be united with you forever,” he said.

“But that’s nowhere near enough time to plan a ball, let alone a wedding,” I protested. “These things take weeks. Months! I must insist on more time!”

“There is nothing you cannot do, my love,” he said with a smile that looked almost genuine. “I have utter faith in your abilities. Tomorrow morning we shall be wed.”

“Next week,” I said. “Give me a week, my treasure.”

He frowned, impatience stealing across his cadaverous features. “Tomorrow afternoon, if you insist.”

This was ridiculous. I had less than twenty-four hours to plan the most important day of my life? I wanted to throw something at him.

“Darling, it’s not possible,” I purred.

His frown deepened. “Are you reluctant to join our two kingdoms, Dorothy?”

There was no mistaking the veiled threat in his voice. Any stalling for time I did now, he would use against me. I knew, of course, the real reason he wanted to rush our nuptials, but I couldn’t show my hand. I had to play along.

“At least give me a day to prepare, my beloved,” I murmured, fluttering my eyelashes. “Can we agree on the stroke of midnight tomorrow night? After all, our guests will need time to travel to the palace.”

Impatience and doubt were replaced by amusement on his face. “My subjects do not live so far from the palace, dear Dorothy. I do not allow them to stray. Not the important ones, anyway. I find it convenient to keep them close if I need them—or if I need to punish them.” Involuntarily, he touched the knife at his side. I swallowed hard. “But I am aware that Oz’s customs are not Ev’s. Let us wed at midnight, as you wish. Shall I show you to your rooms now?”

I nodded, my mind racing, and let him guide me back to my chamber. His hand rested on the small of my back as we walked and I couldn’t shake the pleasure of his touch. At the door he leaned down and moved to kiss my cheek, but I turned my mouth to his instead.

This kiss was even more passionate than the first. And I saw with no small amount of satisfaction that he was breathing hard when he finally ended it.

“Good night, Dorothy,” he said quietly.

This time, he didn’t bother to lock my door.

“Mistress!” Bupu cried, leaping to her feet.

I clapped my hands. “All right, Bupu, no slacking about. We have work to do. Mistress is getting married tomorrow.”

“But—”

“No buts,” I said. “Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

“You are very clever,” Bupu breathed, her eyes huge.

“Yes,” I said. “I know.”

My first mission: better clothes and better food. And a source of cocktails. Finally, Bupu turned out to be useful; the Nome King seemed totally indifferent to the day-to-day mechanisms of his palace, but Bupu knew everyone from the humblest kitchen slave to the best seamstress. There was no time to sleep; I sent Bupu to her with a message to begin my costume immediately. As it turned out, Bupu also knew where the spirits were kept. I should’ve asked her ages ago.

The Nome King sent a secretary to my chamber to draft up a list of important and wealthy personages that ought to be invited to the nuptial ball, and I set him to work hand lettering invitations worded as thinly veiled commands. The absolute worst thing is throwing a party and having no one come; I figured threats would fill the room, even on such short notice. I had already figured out that the Nome King’s subjects took his commands very seriously. That was one more thing the Nome King and I had in common; we valued loyalty and obedience, and we weren’t afraid to enforce the things that were important to us.

I decided to costume myself as a serpent. Powerful, dramatic, deadly. But the scales of the dress would also bear my signature gingham print. I wanted the citizens of Ev to see their future queen looking her absolute finest. Who knew, maybe they’d even rally behind me. I entertained myself briefly with a fantasy of overthrowing the Nome King in a citizens’ rebellion and ruling Ev and Oz by myself, but soon dismissed those thoughts and turned back to my work. I had a lot to do, and very little time in which to do it. I had a seamstress to oversee, menus to revise, a bloodthirsty tyrant to either seduce or escape from, and the pungent but highly effective liquor in the Nome King’s stores wasn’t going to drink itself.

FOURTEEN

“What do you mean, Dorothy and the Nome King are getting married?” Nox was as close to speechless as I’d ever seen him.

Langwidere handed him the piece of heavy, engraved parchment she’d been examining. Greta had realized the invitation was important and had delivered it to her since we were in hiding. I read it over his shoulder.

HER HIGHNESS, DOROTHY GALE, QUEEN OF OZ, AND HIS MAJESTY THE NOME KING INSIST YOU TAKE PLEASURE IN THEIR COMPANY AT THE CELEBRATION OF THEIR MARRIAGE AT THE STROKE OF MIDNIGHT TOMORROW. DINNER AND DANCING TO FOLLOW.

MASQUERADE REQUIRED. REGRETS WILL NOT BE ACCEPTED.

“What the hell is she up to?” I asked.

Lang was looking thoughtful. “More like what he’s up to, I think. He’s looking for a way to control her magic.”

“By marrying her?” I asked.

“I’m sure things are much more enlightened where you come from,” she said drily, “but in Ev a marriage contract is one way of controlling someone’s power. Magic becomes the common property of both partners. It’s magically binding.”

“Creepy,” Madison said with a shudder.

“In our world women used to be property,” I pointed out. “It’s not so different.”

Lang shrugged.

“We don’t do that in Oz,” Nox said hastily.

“No,” Lang said, her voice cool, “you just send the people you don’t love to die, which is so much more civilized.”