There was the West Enders’ resistance when the Witch of the West first took over and tried to subjugate them. There was the war with the lowlanders in the South, true gods-fearing people who did not like the idea of a witch ruling over them, who ended up cursed with an affliction that everyone called the Breaks because if hit or thumped or pushed, they would crack like fine ceramic.
But Dorothy Gale, a girl who fell from the sky, killed Delphine with nothing more than a kitchen blade.
The reminder of it sends a jolt of adrenaline rocking through Cleo’s body.
Something isn’t right about any of this.
But who am I to question it?
The Tinman tears the pillowcase into strips of fabric. He hands off one to each of the flying monkeys.
“Fresh scent,” the Tinman says.
Faos brings the fabric to his nose and inhales deeply then turns to the air. He closes his eyes, nostrils flaring.
“Well?” the Tinman asks.
“We’ll keep searching,” he says and nods at his soldiers who immediately take flight.
“We’re running out of time,” the Tinman warns.
Faos narrows his eyes. “In what way?”
Cleo watches the Tinman like she used to watch Delphine. Watching for any small, nearly imperceptible change in expression. Any clue she might glean as to how Delphine was feeling, or what feeling she might be slipping into.
But the Tinman isn’t as easy to read as the witch was.
But there… there at the corner of his eyes, a break, a fine line, a bit of…
Fear.
Fear?
Yes, fear.
He’s worried about something.
“I’ll do my best, Tinman,” Faos says and then his wings unfurl and beat at the air, lifting him off the cobblestones with a gracefulness a flying monkey shouldn’t possess.
When he’s just a speck in the sky, the Tinman turns back for the inn and scowls at Cleo when he spots her in the doorway.
He is always scowling. Always annoyed to remember she’s there.
Delphine was the same way. Maybe she too lacked a heart.
He slips past her for the dining room and retrieves the bottle of mead. He pours himself a half glass and swigs it back.
She considers asking him a question.
She considers the consequences of saying anything at all.
But she promised herself she would no longer be afraid.
“What are you worried about?”
His back is to her. He holds the empty cup in hand and goes still.
The fire crackles and several embers swirl from the hearth.
