Tin (Faeries of Oz, #1)

by Candace Robinson

Tin

His eyes went wide and he sucked in a breath as the moonlight flashed over Tin’s face. The mark of shame—or as Tin thought of it, his badge of honor—was known in every corner of Oz. 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.” “Why?” the dwarf asked in a cracking voice. “I’ve done nothing!” “Everyone has done something.”

“Give the man a room, sweetmeat.” Tin froze at the familiar voice—one he blissfully hadn’t heard in years—and eyed the alcohol behind the bar. “What are you doing here, Lion?” “Good. You remember who I am,” he said with a chuckle. “Join me.” The last time Tin saw the bastard was at his hearing, when Lion was called as a witness against him. For all the courage Lion gained, it had only made him a fool. Tin ground his teeth together and turned to face the other fae. Lion was exactly as he remembered: coarse golden hair tied in a low ponytail, bronze skin, and piercing golden eyes. The tuft at the end of his tawny tail skimmed the floor beside his boots. A fur cloak wrapping around Lion’s broad shoulders made him appear even larger. 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. “What are you doing out of the South?” Tin growled. Lion smirked arrogantly and flicked a look at the tavern girl, who let out a sharp gasp from behind the bar. “Another drink, if you wouldn’t mind, and one for my friend.” “I asked you a question.”

Lion rolled his eyes. “Stop being an ass and sit down.” Tin drew a slow, steady breath and reached for the axe at his hip. “You’re going to scare the lady,” Lion warned coolly. The hell if he cared. “I warned you. If I ever saw you again—” “We’re immortal, Tin. There’s plenty of time to kill me. I have a job for you, so you may as well make your fortune first.” Fortune. Tin kept his hand on his axe but didn’t wield it. He didn’t kill people because he needed money—he liked killing—but that wasn’t

Once they were alone, Lion continued. “You remember Dorothy, don’t you?” Tin narrowed his eyes, his grip tightening on his weapon. It was rather hard to forget the little human girl who’d crashed into his life and set him on the path to self-destruction. “Of course you remember the little bitch.” Lion took a long gulp of his drink, studying Tin over the rim of the glass. He nudged the empty chair across from him with his boot. Another invitation to sit. This time, Tin accepted.

Dorothy

Tears ran down her filthy cheeks, landing against her striped overalls as she thought about her aunt and uncle. Uncle Henry had been gone for five years now, and Aunt Em nine months. After Uncle Henry died from scarlet fever, most of the workers had left, and the farm’s profits took a nose dive. The remaining workers had stopped showing up when Aunt Em passed from a heart attack. There was no way to make the business thrive with only Dorothy. Nobody in town wanted to work for Crazy Dorothy Gale. No one.

A flash of emerald crawled into her thoughts and she closed her eyes, shutting out what Aunt Em had beaten into her head—it wasn’t true. “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. And still, the place lingered in her mind when she opened her eyes.

Dorothy recognized the black two-seater Roadster, and knew right away it was Jimmy. Time wasn’t on her side anymore. Jimmy was a friend she’d known for years, but more importantly, he was the messenger for his father. His father, Glenn, had been trying to take the farm from under her feet for months. Dorothy had made the decision two weeks ago that the last way to possibly prevent the farm from being taken was to sleep with Jimmy. She liked him well enough, and she was desperate, but it was a terrible action on her part. A terrible action she’d repeated multiple times since then.

“Hello, Dorothy.” Jimmy smiled, his pearly teeth shining under the sun. “Hello, Jimmy.” Dorothy tried to smile back, but she couldn’t. Her heart did start pounding then, because she needed him to just spill the beans instead of hoarding them in his pocket. Jimmy craned his neck and studied the pile of vegetables on the ground behind her. “You know you can’t pluck all those carrots and save the farm.” He wasn’t being mean about it, only speaking the truth. “I know.” She sighed, taking a step closer to him so he could unharness the news. “Then come with me.” He dropped his hat on the grass and grasped her hands with his warm fingers, his sky-blue eyes catching hers. “Marry me.”

Dorothy hesitated, thought about saying yes, since that would make things better. But it wouldn’t be fair to Jimmy because she didn’t love him like that. She had never loved him in the way that two hearts should be drawn together. Instead she’d made mistakes in her desperation and done things she shouldn’t have. With all her being, she didn’t mean to hurt him. “You know I can’t...” “Who else are you going to find to take care of you?” His hand skimmed the side of her face, cradling it. “Why?” Dorothy tore herself away from him. “Because everyone in town thinks of me as Crazy Dorothy?”

“You think I’m crazy, don’t you? Besides, I can handle myself just fine.” “I don’t think you’re crazy, Dorothy.” He looked defeated while worry lines etched into his forehead. “I just think you’ve had a hard time. When we were kids, after the tornado, and you said you’d come back from a faerie world called Oz, you changed. But just because you think something is real, and it isn’t, that doesn’t make you crazy.” Perhaps the missing piece of why her heart could never be his was because he’d never once believed that maybe her story was true. “I still can’t marry you. The right girl is waiting out there for you. I know it.”

Yet Dorothy truly believed that deep, deep down in his heart, he thought her to be crazy, too. She wished someone believed her about her past. Wicked Witch. Glinda. Slippers. Scarecrow. Lion. Tin Man. Emerald City. Home. She pressed her palms to her head and pushed as hard as she could, trying to shove away the thoughts of creatures that everyone told her weren’t real. She screamed across the wheat and corn fields again and again until her voice cracked and her throat felt rough. “It isn’t real. It isn’t real.”

“It is real. It is real.” The silver slippers that had taken her back home hadn’t been on her feet when she’d awoken ten years ago in the wheat field. If it was real, then where were they? “Stop it!” But she couldn’t control her spinning thoughts.

“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!”

That brilliant green was something she knew all too well, despite the ten years that had passed since she’d been eleven. “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. Heart galloping in her chest, she took off toward the field, skirting around stalks of wheat, like she was eleven years old once again. Except the last time there was emerald illumination, she’d been inside of her house within a tornado. But that light had been there, too. Right then, she would do anything for the yellow brick road to lead her anywhere else but here—instead of remaining in a world with nothing. She was supposed to be out of the house in two days’ time, but if she could find a way back to Oz—a place where no one thought of her as Crazy Dorothy—she would take the opportunity and not look back.

Dorothy followed the flickering light until, in front of her, there stood a green outline shimmering in the air, resembling a doorway. “Dorothy,” a male’s deep voice called—one that was all-too familiar. “Dorothy, you need to come back. Now.” It was real. It was real. It was real. She wished Aunt Em and Uncle Henry were alive to see this, to believe her. And she wished Toto was by her side, as he’d been the last time. But even her little dog had passed on to a new life.

Tin

“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. Tin released her as fast as one would drop a red-hot ember. Everyone knew what happened to his face—he had become a story parents told offspring to make them behave. Do as I say or the Tin Man will snatch you from your bed. It made sense this woman didn’t know specifics, but she wouldn’t ask what

happened if she hadn’t seen him before the branding. “If you’re Dorothy,” he said carefully, “Where’s your little rat, Tutu?” Her eyes narrowed. “Toto.” “That’s what I said.” “My dog died, not that it’s any of your business.” She crossed her arms, the movement pushing up her cleavage. Tin couldn’t stop his eyes from flicking downward. “You are Tin, aren’t you?” He held out his arms as if to say who else would I be? They were both quiet for a long moment before Dorothy broke the silence. “That’s impossible. The Tin I knew wasn’t a self-righteous prick.”

“The fae you knew ten years ago wanted to be good.” “Which is why the Wizard broke the curse on your heart.” “An entirely useless organ. I’m glad it turned back to stone.” He took in the statue of Dorothy again and considered the drastic change. Lion better not try to weasel out of payment, especially if Tin had to put up with her shit for very long. Lion’s macabre lover wanted to wear Dorothy’s head? Well, this was the only one Dorothy had. His gaze flicked back to the grown woman to find her staring, lips parted in horror at his revelation—an expression he was used to—and sighed. “Your heart is stone again?” She gripped her chest as though he would rip her heart

from beneath her ribcage to replace it with his. There was nothing for her to worry about. He wouldn’t touch her fragile mortal organ. The Gnome King had done him a favor when he’d cursed Tin’s parents—the Heartless Curse had turned his heart to stone in retaliation for the lack of mercy they’d shown the Gnome Queen. The queen had begged for their help to hide her from gremlin marauders but, understandably, his parents bolted their door shut instead. When the queen was cut down on the doorstep of Tin’s childhood home, the king had needed someone to punish. Perhaps the avenging king wouldn’t have cursed Tin’s mother if he’d known Tin grew in her womb—damning an innocent child to the

same fate—or if he’d found the gremlins responsible. He was grateful the Gnome King hadn’t known because if the few short years with a beating heart had taught Tin anything, it was that emotions made a mess of everything. It was a welcomed event when Oz’s magic wore off and his heart solidified again. Dorothy could keep her wretched thing thumping in her chest. At least until Lion got ahold of her. “And this fae doesn’t give a fuck.” Tin ground his t...

“Where are the munchkins?” “The mun—oh. Right. The dwarves.” He’d forgotten Dorothy called them that. She looked at him skeptically. “Glinda said they were munchkins.” “Glinda is an idiot,”

“Stop fussing. Oz isn’t how you remember it.”

Some residual trust must’ve lingered inside Dorothy because she relaxed into Tin and allowed him to lead her into the inn.

The click of the lock seemed to mean something completely different to Dorothy, however. “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?

“Tin!” He cracked one eye to find Dorothy flushed with anger. “Are you really not going to tell me anything?” “I don’t see why any of it matters,” he grumbled. She made a choked noise. “Fine. If it will get you to shut up. Glinda hasn’t come out of the South in years. She’s too busy doing whatever it is she does. My heart is my business. Oz isn’t the same because the Wizard is a faerie fruit addicted fool who left the

Emerald City, which is now in chaos. And you’re back because I opened a portal and brought you here. The last bit was rather exhausting though, so do me a favor and stop talking.” “But—” “At the very least, try not to draw attention to us by gawking out the window or stomping around like an angry troll.” His cloak landed hard on his face. “Call me a troll again,” Dorothy snarled. Tin blinked in surprise at her audacity before using the cloak as a blanket. “An angry troll. And you just proved my point.” “We haven’t seen each other in ten years, you pull me back to Oz, and then want to take a nap?” she asked, indignant.

“Let’s get one thing clear, shall we?” His piercing silver eyes latched onto her brown ones. “I don’t care. Not about old times, not about you. This is a job.” “Job?” “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...

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 t...

Dorothy

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.

“You could have just said, ‘Dorothy, it’s time to leave.’ You know, like a gentleman would do.” “I’m no gentleman.” Tin tugged his shirt on and placed his cloak around his shoulders. “That you aren’t,”

“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.” She grasped his arm and spun him around, her anger boiling. “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?”

“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.

Tin

“You look ill.” “I’m tired. Do you know what tired is?” “We’ve only been traveling a few hours, and I’ve kept a slow pace for your mortal legs.” She scowled at him. “My mortal legs are significantly shorter than yours. I’ve practically had to sprint to keep up with you.”

“I know it’s none of my business, but will you tell me what happened to your face, Tin?” Dorothy asked in a quiet, thoughtful voice. Tin sighed. “What does it matter?” “It matters a lot.” The tacky mud along the riverbank squished when she stood and came closer to him. “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.

“The Wizard did it,”

“I was convicted of murder after the curse returned. Before that, I was one of the Wizard’s bodyguards, so he let me off easy. Instead of having me publicly executed, he poured a single drop of molten iron upon me for each life I took.” Dorothy’s eyes grew impossibly wide. “How many fae did you kill?” Tin finished drying his axe, stood, and put the sharp blade back at his hip. “I didn’t stick around to count. Dozens by then, I suppose. The eleven lords were what got me caught, though.”

“But…” She paused, and Tin tried to read the mixture of horrified emotions on her face. It was impossible. “Oz would never do something so horrible to anyone!” He scoffed. Dorothy had to be the only person in Oz—in all the fae lands—who would doubt the Wizard punished Tin. There had nearly been a riot when he wasn’t sentenced to death. “Do you really want those answers, Dorothy? You won’t like them.” “Of course I want the answers!”

Dorothy’s eyes seemed to trace over each twisting path of iron. His skin had burned around the iron, and had never stopped. Burned and burned and burned until his only option was to embrace the pain. It was the ever-present ember that kept his rage smoldering even on his best day. “One night, I left a gaming hall in the capital slightly inebriated and found the owner’s son harassing a female outside. It didn’t seem wrong to snap his neck—it still doesn’t seem wrong. He deserved his fate. The female, less so, but she refused to stop screaming.”

“I burned down the entire gambling hall afterward,” he said to erase her expression. “If anyone tried to escape the inferno, I took them down with my axe. And that was only the beginning.” Tin had no idea what had come over him that night. The two deaths outside had been warranted, but not the rest. The Wizard should’ve had him killed for that first act—it would’ve saved a lot of lives. Since Oz had granted mercy though, Tin had schooled himself. He may not have a heart anymore, but that didn’t mean he wanted to die. Murderous rampages were only tolerated if the coin purse was heavy enough now.

“Terrified of me yet?” he asked with a sneer. “Don’t worry. You’re safe as long as you’re with me. Lion is paying me to deliver you alive and well. Finish getting cleaned up. I’ll be just a few trees away.” 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.

Dorothy

“The same thing happened there that’s happened everywhere. A measly knife won’t save you either. Oz left the Emerald City for who knows where, and Locasta and her beasts have claimed the eastern and northern territories. She’s battling for the Emerald City to be hers, too.” “Locasta? But she’s good.” Lion and Tin had both told her Locasta was good, like Glinda. “Sometimes things change.”