Tin (Faeries of Oz, #1)

by Candace Robinson

Her shoulders relaxed and she leaned forward. Tin released her wrists, allowing her to wrap her arms around him. At his ear, she murmured, “I promise I won’t ever tell anyone or use it against you.”

He embraced her back, and mumbled beautiful words at the crook of her neck, “You may ...

“That shows I forgive you, but it won’t happen again.” “We both know it will,” Tin rasped and tugged her to him.

Tin’s brows shot up. “You’re asking me for advice? Have you gone mad?”

“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.

It was only during those two years with his heart that he realized what sympathy really meant and how much the world lacked it.

One day Dorothy would realize he wasn’t good, and she would leave him. No amount of time could take away the blood already staining his hands.

“Yes?” “Thank you,” she whispered through the door. “For digging the grave.”

When a heart-wrenching cry—muffled by the water—hit his ears, Tin felt it as a blow to his chest. He sunk completely under and held his breath until his lungs ached. His heart thundered inside him, and he tried to make it stop. Dorothy had killed her mother. But only after her mother had tried to kill her. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

“Where is my mother now? Did you break her curse? Or do we still need to break it?” “No, her curse was never broken.” Crow inhaled sharply. “Her name was Reva.” Reva… Reva… Dorothy didn’t know anyone by that name, but it sounded pretty. “I don’t know her.”

“Of course I did!” Crow exclaimed. “Do you think I’m Lion? I’m not a coward. I went straight to Locasta after you left. She only laughed in my face, broke my wings, and told me she’d found the perfect place for the girl. All she wanted was for me to be her lover again. I left then and continued searching, but came up with nothing.”

“But…” Crow’s brows lowered in confusion. “What I don’t understand is how you managed to kill her with the water. It must’ve been the magic of the shoes combined with your power. You do have half of her, you know.” He smiled, almost melancholic, as if he was recalling a memory. “Reva cared for the people of Oz. Before she was cursed, she wouldn’t have done any of the terrible things she was forced to do. I know she didn’t know what she was doing when she attacked you, attacked me—”

“I love you. Deep down, even when my brain wasn’t working properly, I knew you were my daughter.” He wrapped his arms around her, but she couldn’t bring herself to return the hug.

Dorothy couldn’t think about him. She’d been trying not to all day. Even though she’d been avoiding him, she’d snuck glances his way earlier, too many to count. She couldn’t help it.

In case he was sleeping, she slowly got on the bed and curled her arms around his warm waist. “Thank you for the bath,” she whispered.

“Losing a heart after you’ve had one would make murderers and monsters out of any of us.”

“I told you to use me however you wished, and I meant that.” Did he… Oh God… Tin thought she had only done this to not have to think about things, as if she wouldn’t have been with him otherwise. Hurriedly, she pressed her lips to his to show him that things between them had become more, even when she hadn’t asked for

She wrapped her arms around him because they both needed it. “Next time,” she spoke softly into his hair, “it will be slow and beautiful, and I promise to make love to you like no one ever has. Because there will be a next time.” His arms folded around her, holding her tight. “There certainly will.”

With a smile that wouldn’t leave his face, Tin slipped from the room to see what Crow had found for supplies. Had he ever felt like this? He’d never smiled like this, even when his heart woke for the first time.

He left the bedside and began collecting her clothes as worry gnawed at him like a wild beast. “Crow hasn’t come back.”

Tin gently gripped her upper arms. “Breathe, Dearheart. We’ll find him.” “But what if—” Tin kissed her quickly, not out of passion but to silence her. “We will find your father, I promise. Stay calm and please, I’m begging you, listen to me. Can you do that?”

After ten minutes of searching with no luck, Dorothy grabbed Tin’s arm. “I didn’t say it back.” Tin paused. “I don’t understand.” “To Crow,” she clarified. “He told me he loved me before he left and I said nothing. I just let him walk away to gather supplies without telling him how I felt.”

“Crow knows you love him. You didn’t have to say a word. He understood that telling you about your mother would hurt and, I suspect, fully anticipated the reaction you gave him. Hell, he probably expected worse, but you’re strong and brave and, most importantly, his daughter. Crow has known you loved him since you left for Kansas and he’ll know you love him even if he goes another five hundred years without hearing the words from your lips.”

Tin pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Their enemy was going to divide and conquer. Whatever it took to get Dorothy’s head… Because, Tin realized with a start, she was the rightful heir to the West. He pinned her with a look. “Fuck.”

Lion would likely be there too, that backstabbing coward of a fae. This time Tin did snarl. Dorothy had lost many things in her life, but he sure as shit wasn’t going to let her lose her father.

The soft tap of a finger came at the side of her head. “Stop thinking like that.” “Like what?” she huffed, moving Tin’s finger from her temple. “Negatively.” Tin grasped her upper arm, causing her to stop, his silver eyes flashing into hers. “What happened to the Dorothy who was going to conquer everything? What happened to the Dorothy who locked me in a room and snuck away to do what she believed was right? That confident Dorothy.”

“Run. I’ll distract them.” “What?” She gripped his wrists to hold his hands in place. “I’m not leaving you here to face those things alone.” “You will.” He offered a weak smile—if this was the last time they saw each other, he didn’t want her to see his fear. “Do it for me and for Crow.”

Tin leaned in and kissed her. Her lips were warm and inviting, like what he thought home would feel like. Maybe that was what Dorothy could one day be. He put everything he had into it, willing his feelings into her for those few short moments, inhaling her very essence, then broke away. “If you run, there’s still hope. Give me that. Give me a reason to keep fighting.”

As long as Dorothy was safe, he could do what had to be done.

He hoped he’d given Dorothy enough time to escape, that she was far enough away to avoid his fate and would soon be safe within Glinda’s walls. He had to save Crow and rid the South of Langwidere and Lion, if only he could make it there. Mostly, Tin prayed Dorothy would remember him well, despite the life he’d led.

He stared up at the Wheeler, refusing to die a coward with his eyes closed, when something hard slammed into his temple. The world ceased to exist.

“Tell anyone about this, and I’ll kill you.” A quiet caw came in reply.

“Lion,” Tin rumbled. He set Crow down, tucking him carefully and safely into an empty nook within the tree roots, and stalked toward the voice. Time to kill a coward.

Dorothy hated herself, hated herself so much for leaving Tin. Why did she even listen to his self-sacrificing nonsense? She shouldn’t have listened to him. It wasn’t like she ever had before.

Gathering her strength for Tin and Crow, she pushed off the tree and continued. Even though she still didn’t truly believe in herself, she needed to try, for her friends.

As the silence enclosed over her, the tears decided to return, and she let them, because they were her only comfort as she fell asleep.

With swift precision, Dorothy brought the blade up and sliced through his neck with ease. She watched as the head plopped to the floor with a sickening thump. The body no longer jerked. Dorothy gasped, and her eyes widened as she stared at the blood on her machete. She’d had it all this time but hadn’t used it until right then. There wasn’t an ounce of regret—none. And she would use it again if she needed to. She took one last look at the bloody ribbon stitched through the lips of the severed head as she passed it and continued down the hall.

“You’re not Glinda,” she whispered. Dorothy’s pulse accelerated as the room seemed to spin. “Why, young goose, I have her same dress”—she swished the material side to side—“her same words, and even her same head. I am very much Glinda.”

The sound of a lock turning meant Dorothy was alone and trapped. But she realized with horror that she wasn’t really by herself, because all the heads surrounding her seemed to be smiling.

Tin growled wordlessly. Much to his disdain, he had screamed while Oz’s men dripped liquid iron onto his face, but it was the last time he’d let pain in. Now he embraced it like a brother. Too bad Lion hadn’t learned to do the same.

Because he was the Tin Man and would remain an assassin for as long as it took to protect Dorothy.

But if Dorothy was still alive, he didn’t want her to see this. She had loved Lion once.

“I don’t approve of you and Dorothy.” He narrowed his eyes. “She deserves—” “Someone better? Kinder? More stable?” Tin laughed bitterly. He pressed a hand to his chest to feel the thump of his heartbeat, reassuring himself it was real. “Don’t you think I know that? Dorothy deserves the world, but for whatever reason, right now, she wants me.”

“Just because she brought your heart back to life doesn’t mean she wants you.” The words hit Tin like a lightning rod.

“And I like your face, too. It’s not quite as beautiful as your mother’s, but close enough. If I could have had Reva’s before she became monstrous, I would have taken it in an instant, but she was a tricky and powerful fae.”

A memory slipped its way out from a hidden place within her. Dorothy was a baby and a female with her face hidden behind damp brown locks of hair held her for a moment, whispering something at her ear. Thelia. Then a door had burst open and another female, with hair the color of obsidian, entered the room.

Thelia. That was part of Dorothy’s true name. And the female holding her had to have been Reva. The silver grew wider, wider and she grasped it, holding tight. Her true name came to her then. Thelia Tunok Turolla.

She couldn’t see anything, but she heard Langwidere screaming and screaming.

With all she had left, she tilted her head back to look into the two eyes that were going to murder her, where death awaited. Above her was an unfamiliar female fae’s face. Pale skin, chestnut-colored hair, and emerald eyes that were mirrors of Glinda’s. “Thelia,” the fae whispered, sadly smiling.

The fae sighed. “Ozma is the rightful ruler of Oz, but the Wizard hid her away before he stole her position by using the silver slippers. She needs to go home and reclaim it to correct all that has happened. I, on the other hand, have a journey of my own to make. To visit Locasta.”