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“Not the abandoned house on the edge of the wall.”

Tin and I share a look.

“Why?” Tin asks.

“Someone on the council spilled. They’ve got people watching it now.”

“Fuck.” Tin runs his metal hand through his hair, leaving it mussed as he paces around.

“There doesn’t happen to be another hidden exit, does there?” I ask.

“No.” Basil grabs a flannel shirt from the back of the chair. “But the guards at the wall right now are friends of mine and they owe me.”

Tin comes back around. “Owe you enough to let the two most wanted people in Oz through?”

Most wanted? How did I even find myself here?

“Well,” Basil goes on, “it also helps that they’re royal sympathizers.”

Tin’s expression changes. “Really?”

“What does that mean?” I ask.

Tin answers. “Royal sympathizers are people left over from before the witches and Wizard ruled Oz. They don’t see the current rulers as legitimate and would prefer to see someone of the original royal line on the throne.”

“So that means they’re less likely to capitulate,” Basil adds. “But especially when they owe me.”

“But why are you helping us?” I ask.

He buttons up his flannel, then shoves his socked feet into a pair of boots. “Because I too am a royal sympathizer.” He reaches inside the collar of his undershirt and pulls out a silver chain. Hanging from the end is a stamped piece of metal that reminds me of a wax seal with bubbled edges. The symbol stamped into the metal is a flower, the petals wide and fanned out.

“Is that a poppy?” I ask.

“Sure is.” Basil returns the pendant to the inside of his shirt. “It’s the symbol of the royal family. My family served them for generations, some in the palace proper, others in the guard. It isn’t right, what happened to them.”

While I am definitely pissed that Rook decided to paint me as the villain in his message to the people of Oz, I’m grateful he didn’t tell everyone I was the daughter of the Witch of the West, the very woman who helped overthrow and kill the royal family for reasons I have yet to figure out.

I’m not sure where Basil would land on that story. As Tin reminded me, technically, I am a royal. But it was my mother who helped overthrow the royal family. I could be seen as a legitimate heir or a traitor. It could really go either way.

“Come on,” Basil says and checks outside through the parted curtains. “All is clear, but it won’t be for long. I’ll escort you to the gate and get you on your way.”

TWENTY-ONERook

When I return to the Emerald City, I bypass the palace and go straight to the makeshift roost just beyond the palace grounds. And because I don’t want to give Faos the impression that I’m trying to catch him off guard, I walk up to the roost, instead of simply appearing.

Overhead, while the sky is just as dark as it always is in Oz, there are new blots of darkness as the flock stretches their wings and practices flying formations.

We’ve given them one of the older stables abandoned years ago. Unlike the newer stable I had built to the east of the palace, this one was built for function, not style, with its simple pine siding and sliding barn doors.

Still, despite its abandonment, the building is sound, the roof intact, and it seems to be working well for the roost.

As I approach, several monkeys watch me from their perch on the pitched roof. They click their tongues in quick succession, most likely warning Faos and the others of my arrival.

The barn door is open and lanterns lit with jumping flame hang from hooks along each stall. The barn still smells of hay and horses and leather tack. But beneath that now is the musky scent of marked territory.

Faos emerges from the empty tack room that they’ve made quick work to repurpose into a command center.

“What do you want?” he asks me and while I don’t typically respond well to gruff demands, I do admire his audacity.