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    The Witch Must Burn: A Prequel Novella
    The Witch Must Burn: A Prequel Novella
    The Witch Must Burn: A Prequel Novella
    Ebook111 pages1 hour

    The Witch Must Burn: A Prequel Novella

    By Danielle Paige

    4/5

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    About this ebook

    There’s a new Wicked Witch in Oz—and her name is Dorothy. This digital original novella is the second installment in the prequel arc to the edgy and exciting New York Times bestseller Dorothy Must Die.

    Dorothy Gale is back . . . and she’s not the sweet little heroine of Oz anymore. She’s power-hungry and vicious, and she leaves a trail of destruction beneath her spike-heeled, magical shoes. But behind the scenes, there’s someone else pulling the strings. Someone who doesn’t want fame or glory—just control.

    Glinda of the North brought Dorothy back to Oz for a reason. And in The Witch Must Burn, a young maid is about to discover that a witch who says she’s Good might be the most dangerous kind of Wicked.

    The Witch Must Burn, by debut author Danielle Paige, is a dark and compelling reimagining of a beloved classic and is perfect for fans of Cinder by Marissa Meyer, Beastly by Alex Flinn, and Wicked by Gregory Maguire.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHarperCollins
    Release dateNov 11, 2014
    ISBN9780062280770
    The Witch Must Burn: A Prequel Novella
    Author

    Danielle Paige

    Danielle Paige is the New York Times bestselling author of the Dorothy Must Die series and Stealing Snow, as well as an upcoming Fairy Godmother origin story series, and the graphic novel Mera: Tidebreaker for DC. In addition to writing young adult books, she works in the television industry, where she received a Writers Guild of America Award and was nominated for several Daytime Emmys. She is a graduate of Columbia University. Danielle lives in New York City.   daniellepaigebooks.com Twitter: daniellempaige Instagram: daniellempaige  

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    • 4/5
      3.5 stars
      This is Jellia's tale. Friend of Ozma, head servant for Dorothy. If you have not read Dorothy Must Die, I highly suggest reading that before this book. Spoilers ahead if you have not read the first book yet. You have been warned....




      This book has me realing really bad for Jellia, especially after what happens to her in Dorothy Must Die. Although this story dies give us greater insight into who what role she really plays in the story.

      Glinda sees something special about Jellia so takes her for a short time to help in her palace. And to that I just want to say "EWW!" Apparently Glinda does not understand that there is a concept for too much pink. On the surface, Glinda just wants a maid but her intentions are much darker in how to use Jellia.

      One of the servants working for Glinda shocked me. Yet also confused me on the timelines a bit. Overall an interesting side is shown of certain characters. And we get a better sample of Jellia's ability with Nail Art. I would love it if she would do my nails! Serceta are unveiled and I wonder what part might take in the main storyline.
    • 3/5
      A few weeks back, I reviewed Dorothy Must Die by Danielle Paige. I mentioned that she had since written prequels to that novel as well as a sequel. I placed holds on all these books at my local library…along with everyone else apparently. Finally, The Witch Must Burn became available. This novella (just in case you're unfamiliar with the term this is used to describe a short story of a few hundred pages) focuses on Jellia, Dorothy's personal maid. (Readers of Dorothy Must Die will remember this character vividly.) We're also given a bit of a glimpse into Glinda the Good Witch. It's really nothing more than a tantalizing morsel to hold the reader until they can get their hands on the next installment…which might take a while in my case. :-/

    Book preview

    The Witch Must Burn - Danielle Paige

    CONTENTS

    One

    Two

    Three

    Four

    Five

    Six

    Seven

    Eight

    Nine

    Ten

    Eleven

    Twelve

    Thirteen

    Fourteen

    Fifteen

    Excerpt from Dorothy Must Die

    One

    Two

    Back Ads

    About the Author

    Books by Danielle Paige

    Copyright

    About the Publisher

    ONE

    Things have been pretty weird lately in Oz. I mean, if you’re not from around here, things are always a little weird in Oz. There’re the flying monkeys, sure, and the Road of Yellow Brick, which isn’t exactly the most reliable freeway in the world (it moves around). We have magic—more about that later—and animated soldiers that used to be toys, and a city made out of emeralds, and trees that talk. We have an enchanted palace—that’s where I work as a servant—and we have a Wizard with extra-special powers. We had a Wizard, anyway, until he disappeared. We have cornfields that grow pre-roasted corn on the cob and talking animals and a Cowardly Lion who’s actually not so cowardly and is becoming a little bit scary. (He talks, too.) But for us, all of that is no big deal. We’re used to it. The really weird thing about Oz these days?

    Her name is Dorothy. And she’s my boss.

    Technically, Ozma is my boss. She’s the rightful ruler of Oz, and when she was running the show, things were great for us here in the Emerald City. I don’t know anything about where I’m from—I was left on the doorstep of the Emerald Palace as a tiny baby. Ozma and I grew up together there. I knew she’d one day be the ruler of Oz, too, but she never acted like someone who was about to be a queen. She was just my friend, and the palace servants became my family. I’ve never known anything else.

    Then Dorothy showed up—the first time—and everything changed. She killed the Wicked Witch of the East and with the help of the Tin Woodman, the Scarecrow, and the Cowardly Lion, the Wicked Witch of the West. She saved Oz. Then she vanished back to the Other Place—the world she came from, where magic doesn’t exist. Ozma took her rightful place on the throne, and things were basically perfect. Although I still didn’t know anything about my real family, I’d lived in the palace for my whole life and Ozma and the servants were the only family I needed. I loved my work in the palace, as strange as that may sound—it gave me a real sense of pride to do a good job keeping everything running. Nobody plans a banquet like I do. I can remember the names of every single dignitary of Oz—and their children, pets, favorite foods, preferred seating arrangements, wives, husbands, ex-wives, ex-husbands, and what room in the palace they most like to stay in when they visit. My detail-oriented nature is what makes me so good at my job, and it’s why Ozma ultimately promoted me to be the youngest head maid in the history of Oz. I wasn’t going to be a famous queen or a powerful sorceress, and I was fine with that. I was good at something that I loved, and I’d get to spend my life doing it.

    And then Dorothy came back, and that’s when things got weird. She was different—she wasn’t the sweet, innocent girl we all adored who had saved Oz. Dorothy moved into the palace, and this time she was here to stay. And then, after a palace ball one night, suddenly Ozma wasn’t herself anymore; overnight she went from our vivacious, caring, generous queen to a vacant ghost of herself wandering the halls of the palace like the world’s creepiest talking doll. Sometimes she didn’t even recognize us. At first, Dorothy pretended she was helping out, ruling on Ozma’s behalf. She kept Ozma close by her side.

    But then Dorothy dropped the pretense pretty quickly, and none of us knew how to stop her, or even if we could. Suddenly, our peaceful palace was full of soldiers. They looked like the Tin Woodman, but there was something about them that didn’t feel right. The Scarecrow left his own corncob mansion out in the hills of Oz and moved into the palace, where he shut himself up in his suite of rooms and began to work on something mysterious that Dorothy referred to as his experiments. The Scarecrow had always seemed so harmless before, just kind of dopey and pleasant despite his brain upgrade, but the maids who took him his meals came back from his rooms with stories about sinister equipment and cages covered in blankets, behind which they could hear rustling and faint, soft moans, like something crying out in pain. We’d see lights coming from his rooms at all hours, and hear crashing and banging in the middle of the night. Pretty soon I had to bribe my staff with extra time off in order to get them to so much as clean the hallway outside his room. And the stories of what they saw inside sent chills up my spine.

    Dorothy acted as though nothing was wrong—as though whatever was happening was totally normal. If any of us asked her about it, she’d fly off the handle in one of her infamous tantrums. So we left it alone.

    I also quickly realized that Dorothy doesn’t like me, but I am careful to keep myself useful. I want to figure out what’s going on in the palace, and with Ozma, and I can’t do that if Dorothy kicks me out. And I think even she realized that dismissing me out of hand would clue the rest of the servants in to the fact that something was really wrong. Ozma would never condone such a thing, and for all intents and purposes, Ozma is still the ruler of Oz. I make sure for the time being to keep everything the way Dorothy likes it. I make sure her rows and rows of dresses are hung neatly, organized by color, occasion, and material (and yes, of course, season). Her bacon is extra crispy, the floors are extra scrubbed. I know exactly what it takes to keep the palace running like clockwork, and Dorothy knows I know, and so for now we’re in kind of a standoff. She hates me, but she can’t get rid of me, and I intend to keep it that way.

    She is the only one who’s allowed to use magic in the palace. She says there’s too much of a risk of disaster otherwise. But I think the real reason is that she doesn’t want anyone to have more power than she does.

    I’m not sure how much longer I can stand it here. Every once in a while, I’ll get a chance to pause for a moment at a window, looking out over the glittering green towers of Oz and daydreaming about what life used to be like when Ozma was in charge and Oz was the way it should be. When Dorothy was a national hero, not a national menace. When—

    "Jellia!" Dorothy’s voice tore through the air, a piercing shriek that made me flinch. I’d been scrubbing the palace floors since sunrise. Dorothy had been on a tear since she staggered out of bed long after the palace was up and bustling, and I’d had the bad luck to be standing next to her when she decided the floors were filthy, despite the fact that we’d cleaned them the day before. I sat up from my brush and bucket as the relentless tap-tap-tap of her heels came storming into the room, and just barely scrambled to my feet and executed a clumsy curtsy.

    "What are you doing? she snarled. Why are you filthy?" She’d used magic that morning to dress herself—there was no mistaking the way she was stuffed into her corseted and impossibly short dress, or the glittering haze that surrounded her as she moved. Her hair was curled into tight, childish ringlets that

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