Dorothy acted as though nothing was wrong—as though whatever was happening was totally normal. If any of us asked her about it, she’d fly off the handle in one of her infamous tantrums. So we left it alone.
I also quickly realized that Dorothy doesn’t like me, but I am careful to keep myself useful. I want to figure out what’s going on in the palace, and with Ozma, and I can’t do that if Dorothy kicks me out. And I think even she realized that dismissing me out of hand would clue the rest of the servants in to the fact that something was really wrong. Ozma would never condone such a thing, and for all intents and purposes, Ozma is still the ruler of Oz. I make sure for the time being to keep everything the way Dorothy likes it. I make sure her rows and rows of dresses are hung neatly, organized by color, occasion, and material (and yes, of course, season). Her bacon is extra crispy, the floors are extra scrubbed. I know exactly what it takes to keep the palace running like clockwork, and Dorothy knows I know, and so for now we’re in kind of a standoff. She hates me, but she can’t get rid of me, and I intend to keep it that way.
She is the only one who’s allowed to use magic in the palace. She says there’s too much of a risk of disaster otherwise. But I think the real reason is that she doesn’t want anyone to have more power than she does.
I’m not sure how much longer I can stand it here. Every once in a while, I’ll get a chance to pause for a moment at a window, looking out over the glittering green towers of Oz and daydreaming about what life used to be like when Ozma was in charge and Oz was the way it should be. When Dorothy was a national hero, not a national menace. When—
“Jellia!” Dorothy’s voice tore through the air, a piercing shriek that made me flinch. I’d been scrubbing the palace floors since sunrise. Dorothy had been on a tear since she staggered out of bed long after the palace was up and bustling, and I’d had the bad luck to be standing next to her when she decided the floors were filthy, despite the fact that we’d cleaned them the day before. I sat up from my brush and bucket as the relentless tap-tap-tap of her heels came storming into the room, and just barely scrambled to my feet and executed a clumsy curtsy.
“What are you doing?” she snarled. “Why are you filthy?” She’d used magic that morning to dress herself—there was no mistaking the way she was stuffed into her corseted and impossibly short dress, or the glittering haze that surrounded her as she moved. Her hair was curled into tight, childish ringlets that were a strange contrast to her glossy red mouth and heavily rouged cheeks. As always, her magical red heels glowed like the fires of Hell. If you got close to those shoes, it was almost as though you could hear them talking to you in a low, seductive whisper.
“You look terrible,” Dorothy said. So do you, I thought.
“You asked me to scrub the floors this morning.” I kept my eyes downcast.
“I most certainly absolutely did no such thing, Jellia.” She always said my name like it was the worst insult she could think of. It drove me nuts. I dared a look up at her through my lashes, trying to judge her mood. If she’d truly forgotten, I’d only make her angrier by contradicting her. If she was trying to torment me, she’d only leave me alone once she saw me squirm like a worm on a hook. She was looking out the window with a scowl, her attention already elsewhere, which meant I wasn’t on her hit list for the day. Yet.
I rolled my eyes and swallowed my pride. “I must have misheard, Your Majesty,” I mumbled.
“Get yourself cleaned up at once,” she snapped. “I’m throwing a banquet and it has to be perfect. And I want all my dresses laid out—and the ballroom prepared—and I want all the Munchkins out of sight. Every last one of them, especially that filthy little blue one. Is that clear?”
“Of course, Your Majesty. Someone is visiting the palace?”
“Glinda is returning tomorrow,” she said coolly.
Even I, practiced as I was becoming in keeping my emotions out of my expressions, couldn’t hide my shock. Glinda was one of the most powerful witches in Oz—possibly the most powerful witch in Oz. Rumor had it that she was somehow responsible for Dorothy’s return, although no one knew exactly what she’d done.
Then Glinda had vanished shortly after Dorothy had moved into the palace. I know I wasn’t the only one who’d breathed a sigh of relief.
“Glinda is coming here?” I blurted. Dorothy narrowed her eyes, studying my face, and I cursed my big mouth. If she was back in the Emerald City now, I was pretty sure it wasn’t to deck us all out in ball gowns and tiaras.
“Surely you’re thrilled,” she said, and I recognized the danger in her voice.
“Oh, of course.” I scrambled to cover my slipup. “I’m just—it’s just a surprise to have such a, um”—I was hit with a burst of inspiration—“such an exalted guest. It will be an honor to receive her.”
An expression of disgust crossed her face. “And change your dress,” she said. “You look like you crawled out of a sewer.” She laughed out loud at her own joke, pivoting on one glittering heel and stalking out of the room. Her ridiculously short dress switched back and forth with each stride. I sighed and scowled down at my mop bucket. Something was up, and I had the sinking feeling whatever was about to happen wasn’t going to be good.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
DANIELLE PAIGE is a graduate of Columbia University. Before turning to young adult literature, she worked in the television industry, where she received a Writers Guild of America Award and was nominated for several Daytime Emmys. She currently lives in New York City.
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BOOKS BY DANIELLE PAIGE
Novels
Dorothy Must Die
The Wicked Will Rise
Yellow Brick War
The End of Oz
Prequel Novellas
No Place Like Oz
The Witch Must Burn
The Wizard Returns
Heart of Tin
The Straw King
Ruler of Beasts
Order of the Wicked
Dark Side of the Rainbow
The Queen of Oz
Collections
Dorothy Must Die: The Other Side of the Rainbow Collection
Novella Collections
Dorothy Must Die Stories
Dorothy Must Die Stories Volume 2
COPYRIGHT
DARK SIDE OF THE RAINBOW. Copyright © 2017 by HarperCollins Publishers. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition © 2017
ISBN: 978-0-06-242381-8
EPub Edition © January 2017 ISBN 9780062423818
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
FIRST EDITION
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Dorothy Must Die Novella #8 Page 7
