Next to Hex, Iris was almost speechless with fury. “You—you human!” she gasped. “You’re no sorcerer! You’re just a stupid cheat who stole the credit for my work, and now Lulu thinks you’re the one who exposed the rebellion!”

“Iris, there was nothing I could do,” he lied in his most conciliatory tone. “The queen saw what she wanted to see. I would never have undermined you on purpose. Besides, you never said you wanted Quentin’s job—just that you wanted him defeated. Really, I’ve only helped you get what you want.”

“You don’t even have the decency to tell me the truth,” Iris said furiously. “You humans are all alike. You’ll sell out anyone if you think it’ll get you ahead.” She gestured toward the door. “If you’re so all powerful, you can find your own damn way to the guest chambers.” She stalked out the door, but not before he caught a glimpse of her face and realized she was crying.

Hex watched her small back recede down the walkway, her shoulders shaking. Why couldn’t she see how reasonable he was being? He was cleverer than Iris—didn’t he deserve the queen’s praise? A strange, unfamiliar sensation tugged at his heart—was it guilt? If he had done the right thing, why didn’t he feel better about it?

“Nice one, Hex,” said a sardonic voice behind him in the formerly empty room. He whirled in surprise. Pete lounged against a wall, one leg crossed over the other, chewing on a blade of grass and eyeing him with distaste. “I guess you can take away the memories, but you can’t take away the man. Somehow I’m not surprised.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt Iris,” Hex said. “I didn’t think—”

“You never thought about anything except yourself,” Pete said bitterly. “I thought the whole amnesia thing might give you a chance to start over, be a better man. Use wisdom and judgment for once, instead of deceit. Looks like I thought wrong, huh?”

“No!” Hex cried. He remembered the terrible flood of shame he’d felt the moment he’d first seen Queen Lulu. “I did something else to the monkeys, didn’t I? Something worse?”

Pete snorted. “Yeah, you could say that,” he said coldly. “You betrayed them, Hex. You gave power over them to the Wicked Witch of the West. You knew she would enslave them, and you didn’t care.”

“Why would I do that?” Hex whispered.

Pete shrugged. “You tell me, Hex. Convenient you forgot about that part, huh?”

“What else did I do that I don’t remember?” Hex asked, his heart sinking. “What kind of person was I?”

“I already told you,” Pete said. “A crappy one.” He stared at Hex for a long time, his expression unreadable. For the second time, Hex wondered if maybe it wasn’t better to leave his memories behind forever. “That was the test of your Wisdom, Wizard,” Pete said. “You didn’t do very well.”

“How was that a test?” Hex protested.

“If you cared about Oz instead of yourself, you’d have used your wits to help Iris restore peace to the monkeys—not sell Iris out and make yourself look like the hero. Wisdom should be used for the good of all, not just one. It didn’t occur to you to work together with Iris to find a way to defeat Quentin? To tell the queen that Iris was the one who deserved the credit?”

“But she’s just a monkey!” Hex sputtered. “How was I supposed to know that was the test?”

“Here’s a hint for the next stage,” Pete snapped. “In the future, try thinking about someone other than yourself.” Pete grabbed Hex by the wrist, and the air around them began to glow with the now-familiar purple crackle of Pete’s magic.

“But now I’ll never get to be chancellor,” Hex said sadly, and then the hut around them vanished in a shimmer of purple light.

EIGHT

Hex felt as though he was being pulled through the air in a thousand different directions. He opened his mouth to shout in terror and a surge of purple magic poured down his throat. His entire body glowed with the same purple light. Was Pete so fed up with him that he had finally decided to just kill him? But before Hex could worry that he was experiencing his last moments on earth—or wherever he was—the purple light faded and he fell to the ground as if dropped there by a giant, none-too-careful hand.

“Sorry,” Pete said from somewhere behind him, although he didn’t sound sorry at all. “Teleportation can be a little rough if you’re not used to it. Or if, in your case, you don’t remember that you’re used to it.”

Hex ignored him, determined not to let Pete get the best of him—again. Instead, he stood up and looked around. They were in another forest, but this one looked significantly different from the monkeys’ jungle home. Where that forest had seemed tropical, this one was cool and still. No brightly colored birds flitted from branch to branch. No sparkling waterfalls cascaded down soft, grassy hillocks between trees. This place was severe, almost stark; the air was much cooler, and as a sharp breeze brushed past the back of Hex’s neck, he shivered. There was something about the dim, silent wood that was downright disturbing. He felt as though invisible eyes were peering at him from the shadows between the trees, assessing him as a potential lunch option.

Pete seemed unperturbed by the forest’s haunted feel. He was dressed in the same clothes he’d been wearing when he’d pulled Hex from the poppy field, though he’d added a coat to stave off the forest’s chill.