Page 61 of Witch Queens: Tales from Oz

I needed to ask Scarecrow how he came to Oz. I knew the reason—my father—but not the route.

I also couldn’t help but worry about Scarecrow’s inability to age. Could we have a future together if I grew old, but he didn’t? Would my father still help him if he knew we were dating? My father had wanted us to marry into royal families.

It was one of the biggest reasons he continued to let a twat like Prince Gregory to be familiar with me and my sisters.

Being able to change into the beast meant that he was a shifter of some sort, but not in the traditional sense of the word.

We had shifters in Oz. There was a pride of Lions that roamed part of Mombi’s lands. But he didn’t turn into an animal, just a heightened, scary version of himself.

There was also the magic that was only present when he was in beast form. Scarecrow wasn’t a witch. I felt that in my bones, and we witches can usually tell if there's another within ten miles, give or take a few.

But then, I hadn’t felt Dorothy either, and she had to be some type of witch.

All of these questions kept plaguing me as the countryside passed, virtually unnoticed by me. It wasn’t until we reached the walls of Sapphire City that I realized we had been riding for hours.

My legs were stiff, but I was getting used to the bike.

Scarecrow wrapped his arms around me as soon as he had deposited his helmet.

“Are you doing okay, Princess?”

His concerned toned washed over me as I melted against his large frame.

I nodded.

But he could sense that I wasn’t telling the complete truth. His finger tipped my chin up so that I could look into his eyes.

“What is this all about?”

The lines between my brows deepened, “It's nothing. Just worried about things that I can’t change, which I know is stupid.”

“We are going to catch Dorothy,” he promised and then after a slight pause added, “Are you worried about us?”

I flushed guiltily.

“Indy, I don’t have eyes for anyone but you,” Scarecrow said wearily.

“It’s not that,” I sighed. “I worry about what happens when I grow ugly and old and you remain,” I motioned to his sexy body, “perfect.”

I knew that he wanted to argue with me.

“Don’t tell me that you will love me no matter what because that will only make me mad,” I warned.

He laughed, “Okay, I will drop your ass the moment it gets soggy.”

I playfully punched at his chest, “That is a terrible thing to say!”

Scarecrow smirked, “How about we just tell people that I am into cougars?”

“Scarecrow!” I laughed smacking him once again.

“They say that women reach their prime later in life,” his eyes danced.

“Right,” I mocked, “Here Scarecrow, can you hold my walker while I grab the lube?”

He threw his head back and laughed, his face impossibly handsome in his amusement.

“I will just be happy that you are still allowing me access to all of this amazingness,” his hands squeezed my ass as he pulled me tighter against his muscular frame.

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