Dorothy Must Die
Page 78
“Astrid,” Jellia ordered firmly, “the princess needs her hair brushed.”
“One thousand strokes exactly!” Dorothy snapped, still not looking up at me.
I took a deep breath and moved behind her. I grabbed the brush from my pocket and pulled it slowly through Dorothy’s thick auburn locks. Her hair smelled like lemons and sunshine. I expected there to be a rotten note underneath, but there wasn’t. It was all sweetness and light. This is what evil smells like, I realized.
One, two, three, four . . . I counted silently, being careful not to yank too hard when I hit a rare tangle. It was actually sort of relaxing—I felt much better now that I had something to focus on other than the shoes.
“Let’s do the hearts,” Dorothy finally decided. “Use the pink glitter. Blue for the base.” She extended her hands to Jellia and I realized that there was something gnarled about them. The rest of Dorothy was perfect, but her hands looked like an old woman’s.
Jellia pulled up a stool and picked out the first color. Dorothy began to hum a low waltz under her breath while Jellia got to work.
Jellia was an artist. Her fingers moved delicately and quickly over Dorothy’s nails, tracing the outlines of tiny hearts without even the tiniest mistake. Still, you could tell it wasn’t easy. Jellia’s brow crinkled in concentration and it quickly began to shine with sweat as she worked.
“Tell me the gossip,” Dorothy demanded. “No one ever tells me anything. There must be something interesting going on in this palace of mine. I know you know. The servants always do.”
“Let me think,” Jellia said. As she spoke, she glanced up at me, probably to check on my progress. I was at two hundred. I met her eyes, flashed her a reassuring smile, and then nearly nicked the back of Dorothy’s ear with the brush.
Dorothy didn’t even notice, she just went on humming her stupid waltz. But Jellia did, flinching on my behalf at the close call. That’s how it happened.
Jellia’s hand slipped. A drop of nail polish fell from the brush. I watched it go, as if in slow motion.
The sparkly pink polish landed in a blob on the pink carpet.
Dorothy shrieked.
The thing is, the polish almost matched the color of the carpet. Even if it wouldn’t come out, it was just a tiny little drop. No one would notice. But Dorothy would know.
“You idiot!” she screamed.
Jellia didn’t move. Her lips twitched at the corners of her frozen smile. “Princess Dorothy—Your Highness—I am so very sorry. It . . .”
She dropped to her knees in panic, dabbing frantically at the carpet with a handkerchief to blot out her mistake. But Dorothy put her hand out to halt the maid.
“Don’t. You’ll just smear it and make it worse.”
Jellia looked up, eyes impossibly wide above her frozen smile. But Dorothy was over it. Sort of. She shook her head.
“Should I send for soap and water?” Jellia asked. “I’m certain I can have it out in a moment.”
“Soap and water,” Dorothy repeated, snorting. She muttered something under her breath and a sizzle of energy sparked from her fingertips. The minuscule stain instantly disappeared. “The atrocious mess is not the point, Jellia. The point is that you were careless. Very careless. I’m used to better from you.”
“I’m sorry,” Jellia repeated, still trembling, sitting back down on her stool. “So very sorry. I can’t imagine what came over me.”
I swallowed. In a way, Jellia was covering for me. I’d distracted her.
Dorothy’s voice suddenly filled with syrupy kindness. “Oh, Jellia, dear. You can’t cry over a little spilled nail polish. I’ll think of some way for you to make it up to me.”
I resumed my brushing. Two hundred and one. I hadn’t forgotten my place. Jellia picked up the bottle of polish. I expected her to be relieved, but she was still quivering.
“I’ll just need to think of the appropriate punishment,” Dorothy said.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“I wonder what it should be. . . .”
Jellia’s hand was shaking so much that she had to put the bottle down again.
“Did I tell you to stop?” Dorothy asked. Jellia’s eyes widened and she picked the bottle back up to continue. Her mouth was still stretched ear to ear but the rest of her face was crumpled in terror.
This was what Dorothy did to people. I had known Dorothy was cruel, but the joy she took in her cruelty filled me with disgust.
I thought of Madison Pendleton and all her minions, the people who had taken the same delight in tormenting me back in school. I thought of Gert, and of Indigo, and of Ollie hanging from the little post by the side of the road. I thought of all the new orphans in the village of Pumperdink.
Then another thought came to me. It seemed so clear. I hadn’t heard from the Order since I’d gotten here. Maybe they’d forgotten about me. Regardless, I was within clear cutting distance. What if this was my best chance? If I was going to kill someone, I needed to be in control, and not rely on someone else to tell me when the time was right. Nox had made that mistake in the woods—he’d waited for Gert and Mombi before attacking the Lion, and look where that had gotten us. It had gotten Gert killed.
I could do it now. Dorothy was distracted, completely absorbed with punishing Jellia. She would never see it coming. She wouldn’t even have time to scream.
My heart was racing, but I took a deep breath. I didn’t pause in my brushing. Three hundred and seven.
“One thousand strokes exactly!” Dorothy snapped, still not looking up at me.
I took a deep breath and moved behind her. I grabbed the brush from my pocket and pulled it slowly through Dorothy’s thick auburn locks. Her hair smelled like lemons and sunshine. I expected there to be a rotten note underneath, but there wasn’t. It was all sweetness and light. This is what evil smells like, I realized.
One, two, three, four . . . I counted silently, being careful not to yank too hard when I hit a rare tangle. It was actually sort of relaxing—I felt much better now that I had something to focus on other than the shoes.
“Let’s do the hearts,” Dorothy finally decided. “Use the pink glitter. Blue for the base.” She extended her hands to Jellia and I realized that there was something gnarled about them. The rest of Dorothy was perfect, but her hands looked like an old woman’s.
Jellia pulled up a stool and picked out the first color. Dorothy began to hum a low waltz under her breath while Jellia got to work.
Jellia was an artist. Her fingers moved delicately and quickly over Dorothy’s nails, tracing the outlines of tiny hearts without even the tiniest mistake. Still, you could tell it wasn’t easy. Jellia’s brow crinkled in concentration and it quickly began to shine with sweat as she worked.
“Tell me the gossip,” Dorothy demanded. “No one ever tells me anything. There must be something interesting going on in this palace of mine. I know you know. The servants always do.”
“Let me think,” Jellia said. As she spoke, she glanced up at me, probably to check on my progress. I was at two hundred. I met her eyes, flashed her a reassuring smile, and then nearly nicked the back of Dorothy’s ear with the brush.
Dorothy didn’t even notice, she just went on humming her stupid waltz. But Jellia did, flinching on my behalf at the close call. That’s how it happened.
Jellia’s hand slipped. A drop of nail polish fell from the brush. I watched it go, as if in slow motion.
The sparkly pink polish landed in a blob on the pink carpet.
Dorothy shrieked.
The thing is, the polish almost matched the color of the carpet. Even if it wouldn’t come out, it was just a tiny little drop. No one would notice. But Dorothy would know.
“You idiot!” she screamed.
Jellia didn’t move. Her lips twitched at the corners of her frozen smile. “Princess Dorothy—Your Highness—I am so very sorry. It . . .”
She dropped to her knees in panic, dabbing frantically at the carpet with a handkerchief to blot out her mistake. But Dorothy put her hand out to halt the maid.
“Don’t. You’ll just smear it and make it worse.”
Jellia looked up, eyes impossibly wide above her frozen smile. But Dorothy was over it. Sort of. She shook her head.
“Should I send for soap and water?” Jellia asked. “I’m certain I can have it out in a moment.”
“Soap and water,” Dorothy repeated, snorting. She muttered something under her breath and a sizzle of energy sparked from her fingertips. The minuscule stain instantly disappeared. “The atrocious mess is not the point, Jellia. The point is that you were careless. Very careless. I’m used to better from you.”
“I’m sorry,” Jellia repeated, still trembling, sitting back down on her stool. “So very sorry. I can’t imagine what came over me.”
I swallowed. In a way, Jellia was covering for me. I’d distracted her.
Dorothy’s voice suddenly filled with syrupy kindness. “Oh, Jellia, dear. You can’t cry over a little spilled nail polish. I’ll think of some way for you to make it up to me.”
I resumed my brushing. Two hundred and one. I hadn’t forgotten my place. Jellia picked up the bottle of polish. I expected her to be relieved, but she was still quivering.
“I’ll just need to think of the appropriate punishment,” Dorothy said.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“I wonder what it should be. . . .”
Jellia’s hand was shaking so much that she had to put the bottle down again.
“Did I tell you to stop?” Dorothy asked. Jellia’s eyes widened and she picked the bottle back up to continue. Her mouth was still stretched ear to ear but the rest of her face was crumpled in terror.
This was what Dorothy did to people. I had known Dorothy was cruel, but the joy she took in her cruelty filled me with disgust.
I thought of Madison Pendleton and all her minions, the people who had taken the same delight in tormenting me back in school. I thought of Gert, and of Indigo, and of Ollie hanging from the little post by the side of the road. I thought of all the new orphans in the village of Pumperdink.
Then another thought came to me. It seemed so clear. I hadn’t heard from the Order since I’d gotten here. Maybe they’d forgotten about me. Regardless, I was within clear cutting distance. What if this was my best chance? If I was going to kill someone, I needed to be in control, and not rely on someone else to tell me when the time was right. Nox had made that mistake in the woods—he’d waited for Gert and Mombi before attacking the Lion, and look where that had gotten us. It had gotten Gert killed.
I could do it now. Dorothy was distracted, completely absorbed with punishing Jellia. She would never see it coming. She wouldn’t even have time to scream.
My heart was racing, but I took a deep breath. I didn’t pause in my brushing. Three hundred and seven.
