Tin (Faeries of Oz, #1)

by Candace Robinson

An unusual weapon for a faerie, but he had long ago embraced the pain of iron. He had no choice, really—it was that or go mad.

The Wizard had taken pity on him after Tin’s heart turned back into stone. Instead of being sentenced to death for assassinating eleven fae lords, he’d been branded. Shackled and bound, he’d been unable to escape as liquid iron was dripped slowly onto the side of his face. Each drop had landed at the edge of his cheekbone where it scalded a path across his skin. By the time it was finished and the iron cooled, Tin had been left with a design of wild, twisting silver lines that covered nearly half his right cheek.

“Have mercy,” the dwarf begged. Tin grinned savagely. The Wizard should’ve killed him. “There is no mercy in this world.”

Tin did his best to give her a reassuring smile but the iron distorted half of it. “Do you have any rooms?”

But, no matter how much bigger Lion was, Tin was certain he wasn’t a threat. Lion had a heart, after all, even if it was darker than most, and that bloody organ made all creatures weak.

“There’s no place like home,” she said through clenched teeth. “There’s no place like home, Dorothy. Because this is the only place that’s real. Oz never existed.” She breathed heavily, remembering the needles, the pokes, the prods, the medicines, the shock therapy—all of it.

“Why couldn’t you two believe me?” she screamed to the ghosts of her aunt and uncle, wherever they were. “If you two loved me so much, then why couldn’t you just listen to me!”

“Oz,” she whispered, almost dropping the rifle. “No, no. That can’t be it.” Aunt Em would be ashamed if Dorothy chose to believe, if she slipped down that yellow brick road of insanity again. After all the work Aunt Em had put in to reversing Dorothy’s delusions. Aunt Em was no longer there to make Dorothy think she could be wrong. I could be right. I could have always been right.

“This is Oz,” Dorothy said a bit louder. “Where the hell else would it be?” Tin stepped in front of her, jaw clenched. “Who are you?” “My name’s—” Her eyes fell on his face for the first time and she gasped.

“Stop lying!” he roared. “It’s been ten years, you oaf!” she snapped. “I grew up. And speaking of looking differently, what happened to your face?” Her lips parted as she studied him, seeming to grow concerned.

“That’s impossible. The Tin I knew wasn’t a self-righteous prick.” A surprised laugh burst from his chest. Tin leaned in closer, smelling the light scent of her soap, and cocked an eyebrow. “The fae you knew ten years ago wanted to be good.” “Which is why the Wizard broke the curse on your heart.”

“Where’s Glinda?” Without waiting for an answer, she asked, “Why isn’t Oz how I remember it? And what happened to your heart?” Gods. Will this girl shut the hell up already?

“Lion hired me to bring you to him.” If he left out the part about Lion’s courage driving him into darkness, and into the bed of that crazy bitch Langwidere, Dorothy wouldn’t know to be wary of her old friend. She would follow Tin straight to Langwidere’s door for the tradeoff. “He needs your help.” To keep his lover happy and swimming in new heads.

“What about Crow?” He rolled over and gave Dorothy his back. The truth was, Tin had no idea what had happened to Crow after the Wizard got his brain working properly, but if he had to guess, it wasn’t good. Nothing was anymore.

When she’d last been in Oz with Tin and the others, he’d been quiet and sulky, but nothing like this. It was as though he was jaded now. And when his stone heart had become a live, beating organ, he’d even cracked a smile at her before she’d left. That perfect smile had remained with her while back in Kansas, the one she’d always sworn to herself that she’d see again. There were no smiles now.

“Before, you mentioned that Lion needs me. I think we should go now. No need to sleep.” He didn’t answer. If anything, he seemed to hold onto her tighter.

She’d traveled through the night before. The last time she was here, she remembered holding on to Crow’s hand for a good bit of the journey. He may not have been able to talk very clearly most of the time, but she’d felt closest to him, like he was her protector. As for Tin, there’d been a different feeling about him, one she hadn’t been able to name back then, one she was no longer feeling now. And Lion, while being a big baby, had done the best he could.

He may not consider her a friend anymore, but she still considered him one as she remembered his smile to her, from long ago, once more.

“I’m not fae. People can call me Dorothy Gale all they want, and I can’t be controlled.” She wondered what Tin’s full name was, but she knew he would never tell her. And if he did, she’d control him right then.

“Once a villain dies, another always rises. Good doesn’t always conquer evil. Besides, why do you care? You left Oz and never looked back.”

“I never stopped looking back! I went home, Tin. But that didn’t mean I didn’t ever want to return! I couldn’t! No one ever came to me, I never found another portal, and the people in my world didn’t believe me. I was locked away for months at a time. People hurt me, physically and emotionally. Do you even know what that’s like?” His expression slipped for a moment, only briefly, but it was there. He’d looked as though he wanted to give a full answer, but then he simply said, “No.”

Her anger rose, and she clenched her fists. She would head to the South by herself, but not before she forced him to show some emotion.

“I told you Oz isn’t the same,” Tin said through gritted teeth. “Now, are you going to listen to me?” She quickly nodded, even though it wasn’t entirely true, but right then she would.

When he looked up again, it was to find Dorothy staring at him and, for the first time in years, he wished he could hide his face. The blackened rings of bone held his silver locks tightly in place, however, showcasing his iron mutilation. Heavens above, what was he doing?

“Tell me who I need to kill, because I don’t think you did this to yourself.” He stiffened at her words. The thought of Dorothy killing anyone made him irrationally protective of her and her still-pure heart.

If Lion’s lover lopped off Dorothy’s pretty little head and wore it as if it was her own, what was it to Tin? Nothing. So what if Langwidere continued terrorizing the South while pretending to be the savior of Oz?

He stopped then. Stopped and waited for Dorothy to do the same. After hearing that story, the only sane response would be to run. Instead, she looked at him with pity, and there was nothing worse than that.

Dorothy bit down on her bottom lip and met his gaze. Instead of fear, Tin found sorrow. Pity, as it turned out, wasn’t the worst look he could receive.

Tin wasn’t the same fae she’d once known. He was a murderer, but he was what he was because this place had turned him that way. Should she hate him? Yes. Was she frustrated with him? Yes. Did she feel pity for him? Yes…

It didn’t bother her to look at him. He was still beautiful, just as he was when he’d smiled at her before she’d left. But there was no smile now, hadn’t been for a long time.

Her grip on Tin tightened, even though she was still frustrated with him, even though she wanted to leave him behind and search for Crow. But he was keeping her safe. No matter what, she knew he was keeping her safe because he was still her friend—even a stone-hearted one. Just as she would keep him safe—once she broke his curse with Glinda and Crow’s help.

“You ask too many questions,” he grumbled against her hair. “And I’ll ask more. Where did you get it?”

“I’d say I think he deserved it.” Oz had pretended to be a wizard, and he’d only been a man. She should have known to never trust him. Tin chuckled, but then he interrupted it with a light cough as though he didn’t want to laugh. “Go to sleep.”

Steadily, she brought her fingertips to his cheek where the ridges lay, and lightly brushed them across, hoping to ease him into sleep. The heat from the iron tingled and nipped at her digits. He inhaled a sharp breath, but didn’t say a word. Not even his favorite word of the day—no.

Tin bit his tongue to keep from reminding her that he’d hunted for their lunch hours ago. The meat was tough and clung to the bone, but it was filling enough. He hadn’t needed to kill a second bird for her. “And sleep in a bed … alone.” The last addition to her list set Tin on edge. It wasn’t that bad sleeping against him, was it?

But Dorothy… Her heat, her compassion, sent humming vibrations through him even now.

Was it? A muscle ticked in his jaw. She was a job but was that all?

An intense wave of anger washed over Tin and he leaned in, running his nose along the soft skin of her neck.

If they missed Lion’s deadline, he wouldn’t get paid, and then leading Dorothy to her death would be pointless. He could send her back to Kansas instead… Or keep her for himself… He pushed away from Dorothy, as well as his thoughts, and rubbed a hand over the smooth side of his face.

“Dorothy?” he croaked. She paused and looked over her shoulder at him, waiting. “I… Townsfolk don’t usually welcome me with open arms,” he admitted. A small sense of shame rose inside him. The emotion startled him almost as much as the trepidation he felt at being run out of town in front of her. He didn’t care about the townsfolk or their opinions. He didn’t. Dorothy was … different. She backtracked to him and wove her fingers between his, squeezing. “You’re not the monster you think you are.”

Wasn’t that a nice notion? That he somehow deserved to have her holding his hand as if he hadn’t used it to kill countless fae? The warmth of her skin crept through his gloves, making him want to squeeze her hand in return, but the blood of his prey had heated his hand too. Tin swallowed hard. “I’m every bit the monster and they know it.”

She opened her mouth, likely to deny it again, but Tin freed his hand from hers and strode into town. All the way, he flexed his hand as he walked, still ...

The excitement in her expression only made him worry more about the innkeeper chasing him out of town.

His fingers moved unconsciously to his face. If it wasn’t for the iron snaking across his cheek, maybe he would have been able to blend in enough to secure a better room for her. A woman on the path to death deserved that much—at least this woman did.

“Tin, it’s not so bad,” Dorothy whispered. “The marks—I know you worry about them, even if you don’t want to admit it. They make you look almost fierce, a beautiful sort of untamed.” She cleared her throat, her face turning red. “Anyway, my point is, there’s nothing wrong with them.”

“You certainly don’t care what I think, and we were friends.” “You’re right. I don’t care,” he lied.

And Crow… If he discovered why Tin was taking Dorothy south, Crow would do everything in his power to stop him. Shit!

It wasn’t until he wiped the sweat from his forehead that he realized he was worried—not because he wanted Lion’s money, but because he wasn’t ready to not see her again. Whatever that meant. If the bed had been empty, he wasn’t sure what his reaction would’ve been.

Tin gripped the fabric over his chest. Something behind his breastbone cracked, shattered, exploded and a painful pounding suddenly assaulted him from the inside out. He gasped, his wide gaze locking onto Dorothy’s sleeping form. The raging pulse in his ears, the heavy thump thump thump beneath his ribs. His heart. It was back. Fuck!

Steady. Keep breathing steady. Tin was once her friend, even if he believed he wasn’t now, he could be again—once she cracked open his stone heart. His arm slipped around her, almost hesitantly, but she knew it was most likely so she wouldn’t try and run off. After what seemed like forever, finally, Tin’s breaths came slow and even.