For the first time, Astrid looked up at me. Her eyes were big and pleading, pooled with tears. Her chin trembled as she looked desperately at me, like she was hoping I’d be the one to save her. But I was out of pity. She would have to choose her own fate, just like the rest of us.

I looked back to Mombi. “Tell me what I need to do,” I said.

A satisfied smile crept across her withered face.

“Well, you need to become her, naturally.”

I leaned back in my seat, knowing that with witches, it only tangled things up when you asked too many questions. It was easier to just wait for them to explain themselves.

Mombi proved true to form. “Today you will assume Astrid’s identity and take on her job as a servant in Dorothy’s court. You will infiltrate the palace and ingratiate yourself with the princess. You will learn her habits and her hatreds. You will learn when she goes to bed and when she wakes up in the morning, her fears and her weaknesses and her secret prides and sorrows. In the guise of little miss Astrid here, you will learn everything there is to learn, and you will relay it back to us. Then, when the time is right, you will strike.”

At this, Astrid let out an anguished, choked squeal.

“She looks nothing like me,” I said. “How am I going to impersonate her?”

Mombi sprung to her feet, reached into her cloak, and pulled out a dagger. In one sudden motion, before the poor girl even knew what was happening, Mombi had grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked.

Astrid’s head jerked backward. She yelped again, and when she saw Mombi raise her knife into the air, the yelp became a scream.

The blade flashed through the air. I held my breath.

But instead of slicing the maid’s throat open like I’d anticipated, Mombi simply lopped off a large hank of her white-blonde hair.

“Now,” Mombi said. “Go ahead and say your name four times.”

Astrid sat there, frozen. “Say it!” Mombi screamed, so loudly that even Glamora jumped in her chair.

“A-Astrid,” the girl stammered uncertainly.

“No stuttering!” Mombi said sternly.

Astrid gulped. “Astrid, Astrid . . . Astrid,” she finally managed to spit out.

Mombi smiled. “Good girl,” she said, and she began to crush the hair up into a tight ball before gesturing to me to come forward.

“Here,” she said, thrusting it out. Reluctantly, I took it from her.

“What do I do with it?” I asked, holding it up.

“Eat it,” she said.

“Eat it?”

“Eat it.”

I looked over at Glamora, who nodded calmly.

Seriously? Avenging Gert meant eating some other girl’s disgusting hair?

Trying not to grimace, I shoved every bit of it into my mouth. To my surprise, it crunched when I bit down, and then, after a few more chews, it melted onto my tongue like cotton candy. Well, not just like cotton candy. It still tasted like hair. But at least it went down easy.

Then nothing happened.

I gave Mombi a quizzical look. “It didn’t . . . ,” I said.

“It will take effect slowly,” she replied. “Now come on. Let’s give these two some private time while we wait for the spell to work. Glamora’s quite a skilled interrogator, you know.”

She laughed when she registered my look of surprise. “Everyone always assumes I’m the one who does the dirty work around here,” she said. “Little do they know, I’m the nice one. Looks aren’t everything, you know.” She beckoned impatiently from the doorway.

I had to force myself not to look over my shoulder as I left.

“What’s she going to do to her?” I asked Mombi nervously when we were outside.

Mombi waved a hand. “Oh,” she said. “Nothing much. You know how it goes. The maid always has the most valuable information. And the maid always cracks under pressure.”

Nox was waiting for us in the training room. He still seemed shaken from yesterday, but I could tell he was trying to cover it up.

“Your job is simple for now,” he said. The scrying pool rippled, and a map appeared. This time, it wasn’t a map of Oz. I studied it for a minute and realized it was of the palace. “Astrid is a servant, but she’s at the bottom of the food chain—she doesn’t spend much time with Dorothy. Change that. Get close to the princess. Listen to her. Find out her habits, her routines. Find out when she’s vulnerable and what she’s vulnerable to. You’ll only have one chance to hit her. And we want you walking out of there alive.”

“How long do I have before I kill her?” I asked.

“Don’t worry about that for now,” Mombi cut in. “A spider weaves her web slowly and carefully. A witch—well, a witch is like a spider. At least, this witch is.”

“So you don’t want me to kill her?”

“Don’t you worry. You’ll get your chance to be Wicked. But I’ll let Nox explain all that.”

Nox waited a beat and then began rattling off instructions.

“For now, you’re there to watch and learn. You’re there to blend in. Remember: you are Astrid, not Amy. And you are not to make any move against Dorothy without a direct order from us.”

“And how am I going to get that order?” I asked, annoyed at how impersonal he was being.

“We already have an operative in the palace who will be watching you. When the time is right, that person will bring you instructions. While you’re in the palace, try to avoid using magic. There are security measures everywhere, and magic is off-limits for maids. They’re a little lax on that rule—if it weren’t for travel spells and glistening charms, nothing would ever get as clean as Dorothy likes it, so they tend to turn a blind eye, so as long as you keep it to the small stuff it shouldn’t be a problem.”