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We stop talking as a trio of women saunters past, their conversation revolving around the Wizard’s appearance.

“Use the slippers to move from here to the stage, bypassing the guards,” Tin says when we’re clear again.

“Okay. I can do that.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Tin adds. “You grab Blue and you go.”

“I’m not cocky. I’m not the cocky type.”

He arches his brow at me.

“I’m not.”

“Your obliviousness to who you are continues to astound me.”

“You know, you like to say you’re nothing like your brother, but you actually sounded exactly like him just now.”

“Well, we do have one or two things in common.”

It’s not explicitly stated, but clearly, one of the things they have in common is me.

The music, a soft thread in the background, suddenly picks up in volume and intensity.

“Here we go,” Tin says.

We get into position just to the left of the fountain. In the tunnel connecting the square to the palace, shadows create movement and then a line of guards dressed in matching uniforms comes marching out with Blue handcuffed in the center of the line.

He’s ushered on stage.

The crowd swells.

The soldiers position Blue at the center of the stage and then fall back as the Wizard of Oz steps up behind them.

Magic obscures the handsomeness of his face and I can only imagine what these people would think about him if they could actually see him. I think in some ways he must be aware that keeping his face hidden has robbed him of sway over the crowd. Not that he’s lacking in any of that.

The moment he takes the stage, everyone is quiet.

“See that soldier on the end of the line?” Tin whispers, nodding to the blond man on the far left. “That’s Gabriel.”

“Oh. You and Rook look nothing like him.”

“He’s the golden child. Every one of us loves him, despite our hatred for each other.”

“He’s the other thing you have in common,” I say. “Does he know that?”

“I’m not sure. He hates being the youngest. I think he thinks he is loved because he’s the baby.”

As Rook paces across the stage, I watch Gabriel. His hands are clasped behind his back and there are bags beneath his eyes. He won’t look out at the crowd and there is a discomfort to his body language that tells me either he didn’t want to be here, or he is regretting agreeing to it now.

Tin has referred to him as the baby, but he looks close to my age, maybe mid-twenties.

I have never met him and yet there is something undeniably endearing about him. If I didn’t have an urge to help Tin rescue him before, I surely do now.

“As many of you know,” Rook starts, “the great Land of Oz is under attack.”

A murmur goes through the crowd.

“It’s easy to point to the farmhouse that dropped from the sky carrying a girl inside of it. A girl brought here by the West to overthrow me.”