Bright was fearless; he surfed like someone who didn’t care much if he got lost or not. Maybe because he already was, Polly wondered. She could see it in the way he moved. It was the way Polly herself moved: graceful, confident, effortless.
Bright surfed like she did. Like an equal. Polly wasn’t used to equals. She found it distinctly sexy.
Polly stood up and dropped her robe onto the sand. She grabbed her board and loped toward the indigo surf, diving into an oncoming wave so elegantly she didn’t even make a splash. She paddled toward where Bright’s dark shadow waited, ducking under each oncoming wave until she was sitting on her board next to him. He didn’t seem at all surprised to see her.
“It’s a good night,” he said. His eyes flicked toward her and lingered. Polly knew she was beautiful. She was a fairy, after all. But even if she hadn’t had a few supernatural advantages—impossibly long, thick, glossy hair strung with flecks of rainbow that undulated as if it had a mind of its own, eternal agelessness, heaven-colored eyes, et cetera—she was muscular from a lifetime of swimming and surfing. Her skin was flawless. Her figure was amazing. And she wasn’t wearing any clothes. So she couldn’t blame Bright for looking, although some part of her was already a little bored. Did he have to make it so easy? He was no better than the Sprites.
But then Bright surprised her.
“Best out of three?” He wasn’t looking at her anymore. He was looking at the waves.
Polly arched an eyebrow. “You can’t beat me.”
He smiled, still not looking at her. “Let me be the judge of that.”
She shrugged. “It’s your funeral.”
He shot her an arrogant grin. “Or yours.”
“I just don’t want you to get lost out there,” she said.
“Your concern is touching.”
“I hope you’re not in the habit of insulting royalty,” she said. “I could throw you in prison, you know.”
“Does Rainbow Falls even have a prison?”
“The Sprites love a construction project. Gives them something to do. You’re not going to win.”
“Maybe I like risk.”
Polly hid a smile of her own. “What’s the prize?”
Bright pretended to look thoughtful. “If I win . . . when I win . . . I get to do whatever I want.” He looked her in the eye, a gleam in his own. “With you.”
Polly pretended to consider. “And when I win?”
He tossed his head, white-blond ringlets flying. “You get to do whatever you want. With me.”
“Sounds like a win for you either way,” she said.
“Oh, I think it’s a win for you, too.”
“You think a lot of yourself.”
“You would, too, if you knew me better.”
Despite herself, Polly giggled. “Fine. When I win, I do whatever I want with you. Which, in this case, is have the Sprites dig an underground hole and throw your insolent ass into it until I decide to be lenient.”
“You’re joking,” Bright said. But now he sounded a little less sure of himself.
“Fairies never joke.”
“Then I probably shouldn’t lose.”
“I’m afraid you don’t have much of a choice.” Polly closed her eyes and hummed under her breath. In an instant, the heaving indigo light changed, growing choppier and more ominous. On the horizon, a huge wave began to build.
“That’s cheating,” Bright said.
“Are you afraid?”
He met her eyes again, grinning. Polly’s heart gave a little skip. He was really very handsome. Distractingly so. “I’m not afraid of anything. Not even you.”
“Well,” Polly said lightly, “you should definitely be afraid of that wave. I’ll let you go first.”
Without another word, he paddled away from her as the swell bore down on him. A twinge of regret flashed through her. She’d made the task impossible. And if she wiped him out completely, even she couldn’t bring him back from the far reaches of the Rainbow Sea. Which meant she wouldn’t be able to enjoy him later. But on the bright side—no pun intended—if he survived the contest he’d proposed, he’d think twice about insulting royalty. And if he was lost to her forever—well, handsome as he was, there were always the Sprites. They knew better than to give her attitude. And they always did what she wanted.
Which, come to think of it, was part of why they bored her.
The wave carried Bright forward as it began to crest. It was enormous—twenty or thirty feet high and roaring with power.
And strangely enough, he didn’t look the least bit worried. In one easy, graceful motion he stood up on the board. He floated down the massive tunnel of light, brushing his fingers lightly against the surface of the wave. If he so much as faltered, he’d tumble into the indigo depths—and the likelihood that he’d ever come back was almost nonexistent.
But he didn’t falter.
Polly was impressed.
The wave broke, and for a moment she lost sight of him. But as the Rainbow Sea flattened out, she spotted him seated jauntily on his board, waving at her.
Polly grinned and hummed again. The wave she summoned for herself was even bigger. She’d teach him a thing or two about getting too full of himself.
It didn’t take long for them to forget the original terms of the contest; they were having too much fun. Polly summoned wave after wave, each one bigger than the last. She even surprised herself by smoothing out a particularly heinous wave so that she could watch him a little longer. He looked back and smiled at her as if he recognized what she’d done.
They surfed for hours until finally, as one of the most impressive waves she’d called up yet bore down on them, Bright shook his head, laughing. “You win, princess. That one’s more than a match for me. After all, I’m human.”
Polly snapped her fingers and the wave dissolved into a shower of purple rainbow fragments, glittering softly with their own inner light as they fell harmlessly into the sea.
“You did all right,” Polly said with a smile. “For a boy.”
“You’re not so bad yourself,” Bright said appreciatively.
“I do have a slight advantage.”
“Being a fairy?”
“No, silly. Being a girl.” This time there was no mistaking the way his gaze lingered on her lithe, curvaceous body. Polly smiled to herself. “Why don’t you sleep in my palace tonight?” she said, winking at him.
“Is that a command?”
She giggled and splashed him. “More like a wish. I don’t actually believe in making people do things they don’t want to.”
“In that case . . .” He trailed off suggestively and reached out to trace the line of her cheek with one finger. Their lips were inches apart as they floated on the now-tranquil sea. Their eyes locked. Bright leaned in to kiss her. But Polly turned and dove so neatly she didn’t leave a ripple in the indigo light and set out for shore. It was best to keep boys on their toes at all times. She heard Bright laugh behind her and then a splash as he followed her.
They didn’t make it back to the palace—and they didn’t sleep until much, much later. But when Polly woke up the next morning—well, early afternoon, technically, but who was counting—she was alone on the beach. She yawned and sat up, rubbing her eyes. Boys were so flaky. Especially the human kind. A jagged scrap of rainbow husk, covered in sprawling cursive, was held down by a hunk of crystal next to her. She pulled it free, reading the loopy, slanted letters.
I’m sorry I’m not very good at staying in one place at a time. You’re the coolest girl I’ve met in a while. See you again soon. B
Polly rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. Maybe she would see him again, maybe she wouldn’t. Either way, that had been some truly excellent surfing.
THREE
But to her surprise, Polly found that after Bright vanished, she was even more bored than ever. It was almost as if she missed him. Which made no sense at all. After all, she barely knew him. She was a fairy. She’d kissed countless boys
. And Munchkins, and Sprites, and once a winged monkey, which had been a totally disgusting experience never to be repeated, and a lot of other Ozians she had long since lost track of. But she couldn’t get Bright’s pale eyes or white-blond hair out of her mind. And nobody in Rainbow Falls—not the tourists, not the Sprites, not even the rainbow sylphs, who were as elusive as night-blooming tireus but swam like angels—could surf like him.
Polly abandoned all pretense of ruling completely, spending her days out at Indigo Beach calling up bigger and bigger waves. She surfed until she was so tired she couldn’t think anymore, fell asleep on the beach for a few hours, and then surfed again. For a while, the Sprites came to her with various resort problems—the guests on Aurora Archipelago had drunk the entire store of prism wine, a child had cried at the Cobalt Pool and the parents were demanding an admission refund, piranhas had been spotted in the Russet Rapids—but Polly just waved them away, and soon they stopped bothering her altogether. Problems at the resort were never serious, anyway. What kind of people found the time to complain while they were on vacation in paradise? Polly didn’t care if they never came back.
But then one afternoon one of the senior Sprites came to find her. She was sitting on the crystal beach, staring thoughtfully out at the waves and planning her next trip. She’d never hiked through the Marbled Mountains, a region so remote it was full of creatures that were nearly mythical in Oz. But she’d also never been to the open-air markets of the Fringe, the arid region at the border of the Deadly Desert, where nomads and renegades from all over Oz sold beautiful fabrics, raw jewels, and exotic spices in a winding maze of tents and caravans that stretched as far as the eye could see. . . .
“Your Rainbow Highness?” The Sprite cleared his throat, and Polly realized he’d been standing there for several minutes, waiting patiently for her to notice him.
“Yes . . . Canary?” she said impatiently.
“Carmine, Your Highness,” he said.
“You’re supposed to be wearing name tags,” she reminded him.
“They’re degrading.”
“You’re right.” Polly’s face softened. “I’m sorry. What do you need?”
“You have a visitor.”
“A visitor?” For a second, Polly perked up. Had Bright come back? Not that she cared too much, of course. But still. He’d been fun. And then she discarded the idea. If he came back, he’d just show up. He was that type. No way would he send one of her Sprites to find her, let alone announce his arrival.
“Well, show them around the resort,” Polly said with a yawn. “They can have that little tree house over by the Emerald Ravine, it’s got a wonderful view this time of year.”
“Not a guest.” The Sprite seemed uncertain, which was decidedly unlike a Sprite. Polly raised an eyebrow. “A visitor. A royal visitor.”
The only royal visitor Polly ever got was Ozma, and she never turned up without sending word first.
“Is it my cousin Ozma?” she asked warily.
“She says she’s the Witchslayer. Dorothy, the Queen of Oz.”
Polly stared at Carmine for a second, not sure she’d heard him correctly.
“The Queen of Oz? But Ozma’s the queen.”
“I don’t know,” Carmine said. “That’s what she said. She said, ‘Tell the Daughter of the Rainbow that she is receiving a visit from Dorothy the Witchslayer, the interim Queen of Oz.”
Polly felt a weird sensation creep up her spine. Fear? Worry? Whatever it was, she wasn’t used to it. She shrugged it off.
“Weird,” Polly said lightly. “I guess I’ll go see what she wants.”
“She’s not like Ozma,” Carmine said. “Like, at all.”
“That could be cool,” said Polly. She stood and stretched. The Sprites were used to her beauty, but a reminder or two never hurt. All that surfing had done wonders for her muscle tone.
Dorothy was standing at the window in the throne room of the Crystal Palace, looking out at the floating islands. Based on the stories about her, Polly had been expecting a little girl in a modest dress. But this Dorothy was distinctly womanly—and so were her clothes. Her blue-and-white-checked dress was cinched so tightly at her tiny waist that Polly winced in sympathy, wondering how she could breathe, and then flared out into a bell-like skirt that ended at her ankles. Her long, wavy auburn hair was gathered into an intricate updo. Her nails were lacquered bloodred. But most striking of all were her shoes: dazzling ruby-red heels that glittered with every imaginable variation of incarnadine, from a deep garnet to a blushing pink depending on how the light caught them. A little black dog, his coat shampooed to a brilliant gloss, sat patiently at her feet. Around his neck was a starched red bow tie.
“Polychrome!” Dorothy exclaimed, turning as Polly came into the room. But then she stopped short, forgetting whatever she had been about to say. “Oh! I didn’t realize you weren’t ready . . .”
Polly looked at Dorothy in surprise. “Ready for what?”
“Your clothes,” Dorothy said faintly.
“Oh,” Polly said, looking down and laughing. She wasn’t wearing any. Landlubbers could be uptight about the strangest things. “Does it bother you? Carmine, be a sweetheart and bring me a robe before our guest runs screaming for the hills.”
“Of course,” the Sprite said, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.
When Polly was dressed more modestly—by her standards, anyway, although Dorothy still seemed slightly uncomfortable by comparison—she settled on a snow-white cushion and gestured for Dorothy to do the same. “Dewdrop brandy? Dazzleberry cordial?”
“I wouldn’t say no,” Dorothy said, perking up immediately. “I’ve heard wonderful things about the dazzleberry cordial.”
Carmine vanished, reappearing a moment later with a tray piled high with glasses and Rainbow Falls’s finest delicacies. Dorothy popped a gargantuan gumdrop into her mouth and chewed meditatively.
“So, Witchslayer,” Polly said, draining her own thimbleful of dewdrop brandy and beckoning for Carmine to pour her another. “What brings you to Rainbow Falls?”
“Call me Dorothy, please,” Dorothy said through another mouthful of gumdrop. “Wow, these things are really good. Back in Kansas, let me tell you, you wouldn’t have dreamed of being able to get stuff like this.” She gave a sigh of satisfaction. Polly waited patiently, trying not to yawn. “Oh!” Dorothy added, remembering Polly’s question. “I’ve been touring all over Oz, actually. I saved Rainbow Falls for last because I’ve heard so many wonderful things about it—and you.”
“All true, I’m sure,” Polly said modestly.
“It’s better than my wildest imaginings!” Dorothy exclaimed excitedly, sitting up to reach for another gumdrop. “I didn’t get to come here on my first trip to Oz. Too busy saving the world!” She giggled. “That was so time-consuming. And I had to help my friends—you know about the Lion, the Scarecrow, and the Tin Woodman, of course?”
“Mmmmm,” said Polly, examining her fingernails and wishing just a little bit that Dorothy would get to the point.
“Well, with Ozma taking a little breather and—”
“What do you mean?” Polly asked, her interest sharpening. Ozma hadn’t said anything about taking time off.
“It’s no big deal,” Dorothy said airily, waving a hand. “She’s fine and all. She just—well, if you want to know the truth, I think ruling Oz didn’t really agree with her. She needed a vacation like nobody’s business. All work and no play, you know?”
Polly nodded. The “all work and no play” sounded like her cousin. But she’d never known Ozma to take a vacation in her entire life. The girl was absolutely fanatical about things like “duty” and “fidelity” and other boring stuff like that.
“The point is, I think the responsibility was driving her, well, a little nuts. And that’s where I come in. It was so lucky that I was already in Oz, spending time with her at the Emerald Palace, having a grand old time. And one day she said to me, ‘Dorothy, you know m
agic, you love Oz as much as I do, you have the Lion and the Woodman and the Scarecrow with you—Oz is in marvelous hands, why don’t you hold the reins while I jet off for a minute or two and unwind.’ What was I going to do, say no? I want what’s best for Oz, too, you know. I’m not from here, but I love this place even more than most of its citizens, I’m sure of it.” Dorothy smiled brilliantly. “But as interim queen, I thought I should meet all of my new royal subjects. So I decided to jet off myself.”
“Ozma left you in charge of Oz?” Polly said, puzzled. “That doesn’t seem like something she’d do.”
“Maybe you don’t know her as well as I do,” Dorothy said sharply. But then her tone softened. “She was just crazy from all the work,” she said in a sweet, singsongy voice. “Helping her out was the least I could do. When she comes back she can swoop on in and have her crown and scepter and the throne and all those queenly chores she adores so much.”
Polly considered this. Maybe Ozma had been far more stressed than she let on—she did always have to leave Rainbow Falls before she had a chance to fall asleep in the sun, and she hadn’t even dipped a toe in all seven Rainbow Pools. Polly felt a twinge of guilt that she hadn’t noticed her cousin’s preoccupations. But Dorothy was right—in the end, Polly and Ozma had very little in common and saw each other only very rarely. If Dorothy had been spending weeks palling around the Emerald City with her, maybe Dorothy did know more about Ozma’s mental state than Polly did.
“You don’t think you should stay in the Emerald City while Ozma’s away?” Polly asked. Not that she stayed at home much, despite her duties. But ruling Rainbow Falls and the kingdom of Oz were two completely different things.
“Oh, Scare and Tin can take care of things,” Dorothy said. “They’re used to it. The Scarecrow was King of Oz himself for a while, you know.”
“Schools,” Polly said. “That’s all I remember about his rule. He opened a lot of schools.”
“Did you go?”
“School’s not really my thing,” Polly said with a graceful shrug. “Although I think we might learn very different things in Oz, like how to sort out purring buzzlebees from squeamish ones, and what to feed a barleycute, and where to find the best—”
Dorothy Must Die Novella #8 Page 2