“That’s the problem.” Crow grimaced. “Her mother is Reva.” Tin stared at Crow, the name processing as slow as molasses. He couldn’t mean… No. That was impossible. Dorothy’s mother couldn’t be the Wicked Witch of the West. There had to be some sort of mistake—a mix-up in Crow’s memories. Maybe Oz had scrambled things around in his brain a bit when he broke the Curse of Unknowing.
