Page 43 of Witch Queens: Tales from Oz

We passed much of the village. Munchkins tended to favor odd-looking dwellings with large domed roofs. White picket fences surrounded many of the homes giving Munchkin Land a feeling of the perfect storybook place.

At long last, we rolled into the farmlands, with miles and miles of stalwart crops all standing at attention like soldiers ready for battle.

Scarecrow wanted to visit his old friend Boq. He reasoned that Boq would be aware of anything shady or underhanded in the area as he was a sports gambling bookie for Munchkin Land and tended to benefit from such dealings.

I had wondered aloud about how a wealthy farmer had become involved in sports gambling.

Scarecrow just smiled mockingly and asked if I knew any other wealthy farmers.

Smart ass.

You could just make out part of Lake Orizon and the Sapphire City. It is said to be second only to our Emerald City. I will admit that I adore their sapphire tower. It’s silver bells ring out to tell the hour.

These lands are not part of my father’s kingdom, but are ruled by Prince Gregory now that his father has passed.

He is tall with a whipcord strength and an incredibly handsome jaw. He is also insufferable. Living as child royalty, my sisters and I were often thrown together with Gregory and asked to play nice.

For the most part, we tolerated him. I only had one sibling that he drove to complete insanity, and that was Glenda of all people. It was strange because Glenda was also so terribly good all the time.

But when it came to Gregory, Glenda could be just as snarky as the rest of us. It was only then that I could see some hint that she shared our DNA.

Boq’s farm seemed to be thriving. The field hands were out picking crops. A few glanced up at the lone motorcycle, but they didn’t seem surprised by it.

When Scarecrow pulled up in front of a large white farmhouse, I was suitably impressed.

Our ride was longer than what I was used to, so my first step on stable ground had my legs nearly buckling.

“Wow, there cowboy!” An amused male voice called out from the front steps.

I had righted my skirt when I dismounted the bike, but hadn’t counted on an audience. I prayed that I hadn’t just given creepy Boq an excellent peep show.

Scarecrow’s protective arm slid around my waist, “Boq, we need a word.”

The little man stepped out from the shade. He had a paunch belly that was giving his pants a severe fear of heights. Did he not own a belt—or suspenders?

Boq smiled, his teeth were almost too white, as he leered at me.

“Anything for you, Scarecrow. It looks like this little filly is just getting used to those colt-like legs.”

I wanted to vomit. It was never happening, Boq.

Scarecrow must have gotten my internal SOS, or perhaps he didn’t like the way Boq was staring me down because, in half a second, he had gone from holding my waist to holding Boq up by the neck.

“You don’t look at my girl. You don’t talk to my girl. You don’t even think about her. Got it?”

Scarecrow’s voice was deceptively calm as the little man choked and sputtered.

“I-I’m so-sorry!” Boq choked out.

He was looking a bit blue.

“Scarecrow, don’t kill him before we talk to him.” I wasn’t above doing away with him altogether, but we did need information.

Scarecrow released his hold on Boq and he slumped to the floor gasping for breath.

“Fuck!” he coughed, “You are one crazy, fucked up, piece of shit.”

Then to my complete surprise, he grinned at Scarecrow, “Come inside, I need a minute to recoup, then we can talk.”

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