Trapped. My only option was magic.

“Take my hand,” I told Maude, trying to sound confident. “I’m getting us out of here.”

I had never gotten that comfortable with the travel spell that Mombi had taught me, but at this point, I had to risk it. It was dangerous—Gert and Nox had told me time and time again that I should never travel without clearly visualizing my destination, otherwise I was liable to end up teleporting myself into the middle of a brick wall.

I closed my eyes and tried to picture the Royal Gardens. I’d never actually been out there, only glimpsed them that day when I saw the Lion pop the eye out from that guard. What did I remember?

The sunflowers. A sprawling bed of overgrown sunflowers where the Lion had been napping. I pictured the flowers, but it wouldn’t do to travel into them, not unless I wanted petals and stems sticking out of me. I imagined the space directly above the flowers; the cool night air, the moonlight, the Royal Gardens. I focused on the details that would be below me, imagining the empty space where we’d travel.

It would be the most powerful spell I’d ever cast. And the most important.

My dagger throbbed in my hand. It wanted to stay and fight. Not a sound strategy, but that’s the kind of instinctual advice you get from a magic object that’s primary purpose is stabbing.

Distantly, I heard the Scarecrow shuffling down the steps. He was close, but I was already imagining myself far away. . . .

“Hold on to me,” I whispered. Even my own voice sounded as if it came from down a tunnel, the magic building up within me.

I felt Maude squeeze my hand and then I let go—not of her, but of this place. I heard a wooshing in my ears, felt the magic pulling me apart, and then we were gone.

Maude and I materialized right above the sunflowers, just like I pictured, and tumbled in a heap through the petals and leaves, stems cracking beneath us. The ground was soft, the landing not too rough. We’d made it. We were alive.

I’d completed a travel spell. The most complicated magic I’d ever done. And it worked. I felt laughter bubbling up within me.

“You okay?” I asked Maude, my throat suddenly dry, like I’d been dehydrated.

“Yes,” she croaked back, and we began crawling our way out of the flowers.

I was exhausted. The spell had worked, yeah, but all my appendages had that pins-and-needles feeling, and I had the vague sense that I’d left part of myself behind, like the magic had taken a price.

Also, considering how powerful the spell was, I worried that Dorothy might have felt it or detected it somehow. There was nothing I could do about that now.

Ollie was waiting for us. All I could see of him were his eyes. They were unblinking and glowing yellow, shining down at me.

“You fell out of the sky,” he said to me, baffled.

I waved at him weakly. “No big deal.”

As I struggled back to my feet, Ollie locked eyes with Maude. I don’t know if I’d been expecting them to hug or what—the last time they’d seen each other she’d spit on him, so maybe that was pushing it—but they didn’t. It was awkward, neither one of them sure what to say, until Maude finally broke the silence.

“You came back for me,” she said softly. “After everything—”

Ollie cut her off with an embrace. He held her tight and Maude squeezed back, although I noticed her fingers brushing over the stubs where his wings used to be. I let them have a moment, looking toward the palace. The Royal Gardens were on the other end of the grounds, away from the greenhouse and the Scarecrow’s burned bedroom. The windows on this side were dark, empty. There weren’t any patrols around, but I didn’t want to take any chances.

“Sorry, guys,” I interrupted. “But you need to get moving.”

Both monkeys turned to me. Maude bit down on her lip, looking suddenly nervous about something.

“There’s just one more thing,” Ollie said, glancing surreptitiously at my dagger.

My shoulders slumped. I was already exhausted from the night’s events, I didn’t know how much more I could do.

“What is it?”

“You need to cut off my wings,” Maude replied.

I stared at her. “Uh, what?”

“The wings are tied to Dorothy’s magic,” Ollie explained somberly.

“As long as I still have them, she has power over me,” Maude finished. I noticed her flexing her wings as she spoke, as if trying to commit the feeling to memory. “I won’t be able to leave the palace grounds with them.”

Ollie had already unclipped a pouch from his belt, opening it up to reveal sutures and some clean rags. I glared at him.

“You knew we’d have to do this.”

Ollie nodded. “Yes. Sorry I didn’t tell you, but . . . you volunteered.”

I flipped the dagger around in my hand, gently clutching the still-warm blade, and held it out to him.

“You do it,” I said.

Ollie looked from me to the blade, then at Maude. I could see him trying to steel himself, to find the courage to accept my challenge. After a moment, he looked away.

“I . . . I can’t,” he said quietly. “She’s . . .”

She was his sister. Of course he couldn’t mutilate her. That job fell to me.

Maude grabbed my hand.

“Please,” she said quietly. My stomach clenched. “You’ve already opened my cage. Now set me really free.”

Cutting them away was the easy part; my knife was sharp and hot. The worst part, the part I worried would stick with me, was the sound they made. And how the wings began to flutter on their own.