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“Never mind.”

Tin retrieves his cigarettes from his pocket and lights one, the smoke curling into the dark sky above us as he surges forward again.

It’s mostly open field on this side of the Hollow. It means we have nowhere to hide, but Tin doesn’t seem worried, so neither am I. Despite this, we move quickly, keeping a good pace as we approach the more inhabited part of the Hollow.

“What’s the best way to reach Henrietta’s without being spotted?” I ask him.

We stop in a mosaic of shadows beneath a small grove of maple trees. Tin scans the nearby buildings. Noise filters out open windows—laughter and conversation and the normal din of a household. If I remember correctly, we have to go southeast into the city to reach Henrietta’s.

“There’s no way to avoid people entirely, and I’m rather conspicuous.” He glances down at me. “And so are you.”

“When Remy, the innkeeper of the Red Wander, brought us out this way, trying to avoid you—”

He snorts.

“—we took an alleyway that was less inhabited.”

“I think I know which one you’re referring to. Come on.”

We skirt around a cluster of buildings, then follow a dark, quiet street to a crossroads.

“There,” Tin says beneath his breath, nodding at a narrow alley between two shops.

We look left, then right, checking for carriages and pedestrians. It’s quiet over here in this part of the Hollow. Most of the shops and industry are in the center of the city.

With the path open, we leave the shadows and dart across, then follow the alley to the city square where the Witch of the East’s statue still looms. Despite her demise, they’ve left her standing, but I notice a new symbol has been painted on the back of her right calf—a stylized poppy with a circle around it.

“What will they do with the statue? Just keep adding graffiti to it?”

“Probably tear it down at some point and erect a new one to some new asshole. Hey, maybe it’ll be you, princess.”

“Stop that.”

He chuckles and the sound makes me smile.

We duck into an alcove at the front of a closed candy shop to survey our next move.

“Are there statues like this in all the cities of Oz?”

Tin turns his head as a few Enders saunter past. “Yes.”

“All of the Wizard and the witches?”

“Some to the gods. Some to the kings and queens who came before.”

Another group approaches from the town square, chatting about a recent town meeting. I catch snippets of conversation, but one name sticks out: mine.

I gasp. Tin leans into me, positioning his arm in front of us, his hand splayed on the alcove’s wall, caging me in, but also shielding me from the people.

“I don’t care what the provost said,” one man says, “if I see the traitor, I’m killing her on the spot.”

“Not if I kill her first,” another says, laughing.

“You couldn’t hit the broadside of a bear, Danu!”

They all erupt in laughter.

It isn’t until their voices fade down the next street that I finally exhale.