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I grumble and slump onto the stone. “Faos, I swear to fucking god, this is no time for your fucking riddles. Just help the girl—”

A short, raspy cough erupts from across the room.

I straighten again.

Dorothy rolls toward me and groans.

Faos meets my eyes. His expression is one that screams I told you so.

The girl coughs again.

“Who is she, Faos?”

Now, more than her living and breathing, I need to know her secrets. He has them. I know he does. The West trusted him.

“The girl,” Faos says and leans forward, “is the—”

He tilts his head toward the nearest window, his gaze unfocused and far away.

“What? She’s what, Faos?”

When his dark eyes return to me, there’s apprehension flashing like a blade. “He’s taken command of the flock.”

The Wizard.

My molars grind together. “Tell me now. Tell me who she is.”

“I can’t.” He rises to his full height. “The West prepared what she could for the girl. You’ll find an armory down the stairs in the north wing. Once I leave here, I cannot guarantee your safety, or hers. If you hear me or mine coming, Tinman, you run.”

He takes three long strides to the open balcony, leaps onto the pitted stone railing, and pushes off it.

His wings open with a gusting whoosh.

And then he’s gone.

The girl is back from the dead.

She’s breathing in semi-regular intervals, and every now and then, she’ll let out a lung-rattling cough. But she hasn’t opened her eyes yet.

Half an hour after Faos left us, I manage to get to my feet, dosing kit in hand.

I shuffle over to the girl and kneel beside her.

She’s pale. Paler than she should be. A halo of blood covers the stone around her but if I had to guess, I’d say the pool is shrinking. Almost like she’s reabsorbing it.

The impact of what this means hits me like a crashing wave. This is more than power. This girl is no ordinary witch.

“Wake up, girl,” I mutter, but her eyes remain closed, her expression serene as if she had lain down for an afternoon nap.

How much time do we have? Will my brother send the flock after us?

I wish I knew his motive for all of this. He disguised his identity and planted himself at Dorothy’s side as she made her way across the East End and then betrayed her when she least expected it.

He wanted her to kill the Witch of the West, and mission accomplished. That’s not the surprising part. He’s always been at odds with the West.

The surprising part is why he even bothered.

He could have told her he was the Wizard from the moment they met. He’s good at spinning lies—he could have easily turned Dorothy against the West and still had the same outcome.