Tin (Faeries of Oz Book 1) Read online

  She snatched the moss from his palm and lowered her brows. “How is this supposed to help?”

  “Wipe your face with it,” he instructed. Dorothy dropped the moss to the ground and used her hands instead, which only smeared the blood more. Tin shook his head in disdain. “Use the moss like a cloth.”

  “This is fine for now.” She wiped her hands on her thighs.

  “You’d rather risk a faerie fruit high than use the moss?” he asked in disbelief.

  Her eyes flicked up to his for a moment, almost as if she was gauging whether he was serious, before scooping the moss up from the ground. “Thanks.”

  He hadn’t given it to her for thanks. He gave her the moss to cut down on the smell and risk of contamination. Though, if he was being honest with himself, the contamination didn’t matter much. He was delivering her to Langwidere, after all.

  “Did I get it all?” Dorothy asked after scrubbing her face. The blood stained her skin light pink, but the moss had effectively collected a majority of the mess.

  “Mostly.”

  She reached for the same tree Tin had taken the moss from. He watched her struggle to scrape more than tiny bits and pieces off, amused at her effort, before using his iron-tipped gloves to rip a larger patch free. “Allow me.”

  Dorothy stretched for the fresh moss, but Tin swung his arm out of reach. The worried gleam in her eyes made Tin smirk. Without another word, he had the moss to Dorothy’s jaw line where a large streak of blood remained. She gasped as he pulled it slowly from her ear toward her chin and the sound caused a crumbling sensation behind his ribs.

  For a mortal woman, she wasn’t unattractive. Langwidere would be pleased with her delicate features. Though, admittedly, in a different way than it pleased him. He’d taken pleasure from a few masochistic thrill-seekers over the years, but he never knew their names. Dorothy was different. Wondering what expression she would wear in the throes of passion wasn’t an idea Tin should entertain. Ever. And yet, the desire to touch her burned sudden and deep. Having her firmly against him in such a small bed all night didn’t help either. She was so warm, so trusting, as she pressed her soft body against him, filling his senses with her feminine aroma. It lingered even now, and Tin’s cock stiffened. Would she taste as good as she smelled?

  He jerked away from Dorothy in frustration. “Good enough to keep us alive until we hit the river.”

  “Excuse me?” she asked, slightly breathless but recovering quickly. “What do you mean, keep us alive?”

  Tin held his arms out to signal the forest. “I mean, all the pixies, kobolds, and leprechauns who call these woods home. If you thought the addict was bad…”

  He let the threat linger in hopes of further ensuring her obedience, but they weren’t likely to be attacked by any of those fae. Others would, but occasionally his reputation worked in his favor. It was the trolls they had to avoid. The kelpies at the river still had it out for him after he’d butchered one to use the scales for his clothes. Both were manageable threats though, and he did need Dorothy to walk through the forest. He had no intention of carrying her if she became too frightened, and there wasn’t time to walk around the forest before Lion’s deadline.

  “Shall we try this again?” Tin asked.

  Dorothy nodded, then quickly shook her head. “One minute,” she mumbled as she ran back to the headless body. She bent over him and carefully plucked a small knife from where it was tucked inside one of his boots. Blade clutched to her chest, Dorothy hurried back to Tin’s side.

  “You don’t need that,” he told her. He would protect her until she was with Lion.

  Dorothy pointed to the bloody scene behind her. “I disagree.”

  “Fine.” He drew a deep breath and pushed it out sharply. “Let’s get moving.”

  He didn’t wait for her to respond before turning on his heel and marching forward. For a moment he worried she wouldn’t follow and he would be forced to drag her the entire way south. His fingers curled into fists, his ears straining to hear her. Maybe it would be faster—carrying her. An annoyed grunt left Tin’s throat and the soft padding of Dorothy’s footsteps sounded behind him.

  By the time Tin and Dorothy arrived at the river bank, he was ready to toss her to the kelpies himself. She hadn’t said a word since they began their journey a second time, but Tin was acutely aware of all the things she wasn’t saying. He felt the unspoken words squeezing him like a vise.

  Something was holding her back from saying whatever it was she had on her mind and Tin didn’t care what that thing was. He was glad she wasn’t asking the hard questions, glad he didn’t have to explain. Gladder still that he didn’t have to lie to her about Lion’s intentions. His meeting with Lion a few nights ago was surprising, even to Tin. He had thought he’d heard it all from his clients, but procuring a former friend for decapitation as a gift? Lion’s lover, Langwidere, would wear Dorothy’s head well, just as she wore the dozens already in her possession. The head of a mortal child had seemed a strange choice when Lion had asked Tin to bring Dorothy back to Oz and lead her to Langwidere’s doorstep alive, but it made sense now. Dorothy was already aging so rapidly. Her life wouldn’t be cut short too prematurely. Besides, the pay was undeniably good.

  Tin bent at the water’s edge and dunked his hands beneath the liquid. After scanning the surface of the river for signs of life, he looked over his shoulder at the silent woman. Her cheeks were flushed and her chest rose and fell a little too quickly. He stood and studied her.

  “Are you ill?”

  “What?” she asked breathlessly.

  He narrowed his eyes as if it would help him see what ailed her. Would it change things? Could Langwidere still utilize the head if she was sick? If not, they would have to treat the sickness themselves. Alive was alive—Lion never mentioned her health. “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.”

  Tin blinked in surprise as his gaze fell to her legs. They were shorter, yes, but seemed perfectly capable of matching his pace. “What would you have me do? Crawl to Lion?”

  “Yes. Crawl. It might give you back some of the humility you lost when your heart turned back into stone,” she snapped.

  “Clean yourself,” he spat before he could dignify that with a response. It wouldn’t be long until he never had to deal with her or her smart mouth again. He tugged the axe from his hip and Dorothy scrambled back a step. “Relax. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Dorothy stood until Tin turned away from her and began cleaning the blood from his weapon, then joined him. He watched her splash water on her face from the corner of his eyes. It soaked the hair around her face, the strands clinging to her cheeks and forehead. Beads of water ran down her neck. Tin’s gaze inadvertently fixed on the liquid drops as they raced further down into her cleavage, as he continued to shine the same spot on his axe, though it was no longer dirty. She moved on to her clothes—scrubbing at the stains with a rock and splashing water onto the fabric until the bright red faded to a muted pink. The white shirt Dorothy had on beneath her overalls hid nothing when wet. All he needed was to glimpse something he shouldn’t when his malehood was already in revolt, so he turned his attention to his weapon.

  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? Clearly, he’d gone too long without a female. When this job was finished, he needed a good fuck. It might take a while to find a brothel willing to serve him, but he’d pay an exorbitant price for their worst girl if that was what it took.

  “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. He didn’t understand why. Besides, his truth would change her opinion of him, and he wasn’t sure he wanted that. It wasn’t that Tin was ashamed of the events leading up to the Wizard’s punishment. He rarely felt anything more than anger and resignation since his heart hardened again, but if Dorothy knew what he was… If she knew he was an assassin—the best assassin in Oz—she would look at him like everyone else did. It would also lead to suspicions he couldn’t afford. Lion could’ve hired anyone with knowledge of portals to bring Dorothy back if it was a friendly visit.

  But he didn’t. He’d hired Tin.

  Tin, whose resume boasted thousands of kills and a distinct lack of morals, was once Dorothy’s friend. They’d bonded as they traveled the yellow brick road together with Lion and Crow. If Oz had managed to truly break the Heartless Curse placed on Tin by the Gnome King, Lion’s coin wouldn’t weigh down his pocket now. But it hadn’t worked. Lion knew that—all of Oz knew—which was likely why Lion hired Tin specifically.

  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?

  “The Wizard did it,” he said before he could stop himself. What did it matter if he told Dorothy how he was branded? She wouldn’t be a
round long enough for it to make a difference and he could leave out certain details. So, he took a cloth from his bag to dry his axe and continued, “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!”

  Tin stepped closer and leaned down, perhaps too close, to give her a good look at the shining metal on his cheek. Past the blood still coating her clothing, a lingering scent of her soap mixed with his own scent from the night before struck his nostrils. 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.”

  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.

  “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.

  Chapter Six

  Dorothy

  Exhaustion had taken over Dorothy’s whole body from traveling—her slip-on shoes had done nothing except cause her feet to hurt. What she needed were boots like Tin wore, but it wasn’t as if there was a store right around the corner in the middle of nowhere. Only fruit trees and a broken brick road surrounded them.

  After washing the remainder of the blood and grime from herself as best she could at the river, she and Tin kept heading south, only stopping when he slayed something for them to eat. He remained quiet—she remained inquisitive. The world around her was broken … like Tin … like her, even the trees appeared melancholic, with their drooping branches. 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…

  Dorothy knew Tin wanted to take her to Lion, and the fae had been desperate enough to pay another to bring her to him. Perhaps Lion was cowardly once more, or he would have come for her himself. This was all the Wizard’s fault for making them believe that happiness could be permanent, that by her returning home everything would be perfect—it wasn’t.

  After she reunited with Lion, how would she even be able to help him? Dorothy no longer had the sparkling silver slippers to provide her with magic.

  In the distance, something achingly familiar caught her attention, making her heart thump wildly: a city—the Emerald City. Lion… Tin… What she needed was someone else, someone who was braver than anyone she knew. Crow. He’d said he would remain in the city, that he’d needed to think about things.

  Dorothy whirled to the side at the thought of Crow, almost gripping one of Tin’s strong arms, absently wondering how firm it would feel beneath her fingertips… She shook away the thought and kept her minimal distance.

  “I think I have an idea for our next step,” Dorothy said with a wide smile, knowing that somewhere in the city her good friend waited.

  Slowly, his demeanor dangerous, Tin halted and turned to face her, his silver eyes hard, his brows becoming one. “What are you talking about now?”

  “I think instead of us going straight to the South, we should head to the Emerald City first.” As Dorothy gazed in the distance, her smile dropped as the dying light highlighted the city. Like everything else she’d encountered, a sky-scraping tower appeared, crumbled in half. “What happened to the capital?” she whispered. Tin had told her everything was a mess, but she hadn’t expected this.

  “We aren’t going anywhere else.” He stepped toward her, close, closer, incredibly close. “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.” He shrugged as though he didn’t care, as if he didn’t have a heart. Which, she supposed, he didn’t since it had hardened back up.

  “What about the West? Who has it since the Wicked Witch of the West is dead?”

  He shrugged again. “Another fae like Locasta.”

  Dorothy remembered what Oz had done to Tin—she now knew he’d given Tin a heart that wasn’t permanent. Lion didn’t have his courage any longer. But what about Crow? What if he’d lost his brain, too? Unless their curses were different and his was really broken. But what if it wasn’t? He was wiser than any of them when he was at full capacity. Even when he’d spoken in nonsensical riddles, Crow had somehow known how to keep her safe when she was just a young girl.

  Not one to back down, Dorothy stepped as close as she could get and peered up at Tin. “I’m still going to leave and search for Crow there. Maybe someone has answers. If you don’t want to come, then once I find him, we can meet you and Lion in the South. Then we’ll head straight to Glinda. I know she can help us.” Glinda might have been bubbly at times, but she knew fae magic better than anyone. And perhaps Glinda could also help Tin … help him to restore his heart. As Dorothy stared at his face, at the hard silver ripples on his left cheek, she knew the scar still hurt. 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.

  “No.” Tin’s answer sounded final.

  Dorothy drew in a sharp breath and narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean no?”

  “No.” And there that word was again…

  “Is this because of the payment?” she asked. “Lion will understand.”

  “No.”

  “Then I’m sorry, but we’ll have to part ways for now. I promise I’ll meet you in the South as soon as I can.” She’d traveled by herself here before, then she’d stumbled upon Crow first. Perhaps she hadn’t been alone because she’d had Toto, but she’d been by herself on her farm for quite some time. She may not have been able to save that, but she could try and help Tin by locating the silver slippers.