“No, I need to be queen now,” said Glory. She tried not to think about how much bigger than her Magnificent was, or how many years older she must be. Then again, I’m sure she’s never had any battle training or faced a SkyWing’s claws every morning for six years. “Because if you won’t rescue those RainWings, I will, whatever it takes. Even if it means taking the throne from you.”
“Oh, wow,” Kinkajou breathed.
“I don’t see how you could possibly do that,” said Queen Magnificent. She looked down and started rearranging one of her flower necklaces.
“It’s not very complicated,” Glory said. “We fight. Whoever survives gets to be queen.”
The other RainWings in the room all gasped.
The queen’s scales shimmered white and green. She stared at Glory. “You would kill another dragon just so you could be queen?”
“That’s how it works in every other tribe,” Glory pointed out.
“Not here,” said Magnificent. “That’s barbaric.”
“What’s barbaric is abandoning dragons of your tribe when you could save them,” said Glory fiercely.
Queen Magnificent waved her front claws airily and addressed herself to Kinkajou and the blue-green dragon. “I’m sure no RainWing would follow a queen who got her throne by violence. Agreed?”
The blue-green dragon shrugged, but Kinkajou puffed out her chest and glared at the queen. “I’d follow Glory anywhere,” she said.
“It’s not the RainWing way,” Magnificent protested.
“As far as I can tell, the RainWing way is to lie around and do nothing,” Glory snapped. “So why don’t you do that, and I’ll just go ahead and be queen. After all, no one really wants the job, right?”
“Maybe I don’t want you to have it,” said the queen with a growl.
“There is an old tradition,” interjected the ancient dragon suddenly. “If anyone wants to hear about it.” The old RainWing chuckled as they all turned to him. “Don’t look at me like that, Maggie. It’s the fair thing to do, and it gives you as much chance, if not more, of keeping the throne.”
“What is it?” Glory asked.
“A contest,” he said. “Legend has it that dragons once vied for our throne like any other, but over time the RainWings devised a new method that did not end in death. If a challenger wished to take the throne, she had to defeat the present queen in a competition — and the queen had the right to choose the nature of the contest.”
“That sounds exhausting,” Magnificent said peevishly.
“It sounds fair to me,” said Glory. Typical RainWing nonsense, but honestly, becoming queen without any kill ing would be fine by her. “What kinds of contests did they have?”
The old dragon squinted into the air. “Let me think,” he said, counting on his claws. “Once there was a gliding race through the treetops. And when I was a very young dragonet, I saw a camouflage contest — one would hide while the other tried to find her, and then vice versa. The winner was the one who found the other fastest.”
“A game of hide-and-seek to become queen,” Glory said. “Why not.” She hoped no one could tell that she was a bit shaken. She was pretty sure she’d be better at a fight to the death than she would be at tree gliding or flower picking or whatever Magnificent would come up with. But if she wanted to be queen of the RainWings, she’d have to start acting like one. Keeping her scales evenly red, she turned to Magnificent. “Go ahead and name your contest, Your Majesty.”
Magnificent narrowed her eyes. “I want a day to think about it,” she said.
“That is customary,” agreed the old dragon.
Glory lashed her tail. The kidnapped RainWings might not have a day. Who knew what the NightWings would do now that they’d been found out? What if they killed all their prisoners to hide the evidence? Or what if they were gathering an army and shoring up their defenses right now? A quick, overwhelming attack, before the NightWings could prepare — that’s what Glory had been planning.
Maybe I could go back tonight, by myself, she thought. Maybe I could sneak through the tunnel and free them all and melt any NightWings who tried to stop me and bring everyone home.
But she remembered the feeling of NightWing claws pressing her into the stone, and the cold band of metal around her jaws. If she went back alone and got caught, there wouldn’t be time for anyone to come after her. The NightWings would kill her on sight. And then there would be no hope for the imprisoned RainWings at all.
No, she couldn’t rescue anyone without an army, which meant she needed the power of the throne behind her, and to get that, she had to win this contest. And with a day she might at least have a chance of preparing. Maybe Jambu could teach her tree gliding, like he’d promised.
“All right,” she said, meeting the queen’s eyes. “Sunrise tomorrow.”
“At the Arboretum,” said Magnificent with a sly smile, as if she knew perfectly well that Glory had no idea where that was.
Also memorize the layout of the RainWing village, Glory noted to herself. Just in case she chooses, like, a scavenger hunt or something.
Magnificent nodded toward the old dragon. “What was your name again?”
“Handsome,” he said. He winked at Glory. “Our names don’t always end up suiting us.”
“Handsome can oversee the contest, since this was his stupid suggestion,” Magnificent said. “If that’s all right with you, pipsqueak.”
“Sounds perfect,” Glory said. “Enjoy your last day as queen.”
She ducked out through the vine curtain and stood on the bridge for a moment, breathing deeply. The full impact of what she’d just done was finally starting to hit her.
Am I crazy?
Do I even WANT to be queen of the RainWings? And be stuck here forever? Trying to organize these hopeless dragons?
She could just imagine what her friends were going to say about this.
She looked up and saw about twenty-five RainWings all crowded onto the waiting platform, staring at her. One of them was Coconut. Apparently this was the best he could muster when asked to gather the whole village.
But judging from their expressions, they’d heard Glory’s conversation with Magnificent. And from what she knew about RainWings, this was the kind of news that would spread quickly — mainly because it meant they’d have some entertainment at sunrise tomorrow.
Kinkajou bounced out of the treehouse behind her and saw the dragons as well. “Coconut!” she cried. “Did you hear that?”
The other dragonet scuffed one talon across the wooden platform. “Sure,” he said.
“We’re going to have a proper queen for once,” Kinkajou said proudly.
A few of the RainWings exchanged glances, turning an odd shade of light purplish-orange. Glory guessed it meant puzzled or confused; it wasn’t a color she wore — or let herself wear — very often.
“A proper queen?” echoed another of the RainWings. “Is, uh . . . is that something we need?”
“What’s wrong with the ones we’ve got?” asked another.
“Why don’t you ask Gibbon that question?” Kinkajou shot back. “Or Orchid? Or Splendor, or Tualang or Loris?”
All of the dragons were frowning now; several of them glanced around at the trees as if they expected Orchid and Splendor to come sauntering out to be interviewed.
“Hmmm, that’s right,” Kinkajou said. “Haven’t seen them in a while, have you? That’s because they’ve been kidnapped, like I was. And they’re still trapped there — except for Tapir and Bright and Orangutan, who died awful deaths, alone and far away from every thing and everyone they loved. And the only dragon who’s willing to do anything about it is Glory. That’s why she should be our queen.”
Glory did not enjoy the awkward pause that followed. A number of the RainWings wrinkled up their snouts as if they were trying to figure out who
this “Glory” character was.
“Don’t listen to her.” Bromeliad shouldered her way through the other dragons and glared at Kinkajou. Her tongue flicked in and out of her mouth. “This dragonet is trouble. She’s been hiding in the forest for three weeks to spite me, and now she’s made up a ridiculous tale just for the attention.”
Violent orange shot through Kinkajou’s wings, and she bared her fangs at Bromeliad with a hiss.
“Put a sheep in it, Bromeliad,” Glory said, pulling Kinkajou back behind her. “It’s all true. I was there, too.” She turned her attention to the other dragons on the platform — and the ones who were starting to gather in the trees as well. “Listen to me. Your friends are suffering. They’re tortured and trapped in caves in a horrible place that smells of smoke and death. There’s no fruit. There’s no sun time.”
Horrified murmurs swept through the branches overhead. “No sun time?” somebody squeaked.
Glory took a step along the bridge and several of the RainWings quailed back. “This could have happened — could still happen — to any of you. If you won’t go rescue them, who will? They’ll be lost there forever.” Glory lashed her tail. “I know you’d rather sleep than deal with problems, but these dragons are from your tribe, and they need you.”
She glanced back at the treehouse behind her and raised her voice. “That’s why I’m going to take the throne tomorrow. It’s not because I want the biggest pieces of fruit or the highest sun platform. I’m doing this for the missing RainWings — and for you, so that you don’t have to spend the rest of your lives looking over your shoulders and thinking, Our friends are still lost . . . and we could have saved them.”
Glory took a deep breath and studied her audience.
Most of the dragons looked confused, but a few had dark purple stripes rippling over their scales — guilt and shame, living right next to pride on the color spectrum.
Hmmm, Glory thought. That’s about all the noble speechifying I’ve got in me. Somehow it had always seemed more believable and less awkward in the scrolls she read. The stirring speech was always where chapters ended — but right now a host of dragons were just staring at her, and she couldn’t remember anything from the stories about what you did at the end of a noble speech or how to slink away gracefully afterward.
“So there,” said Kinkajou, sticking out her tongue at Bromeliad.
Glory was pretty sure that wasn’t it.
“What do we do now?” Kinkajou asked Glory brightly. The blue-gray was gone from her scales and all her energy had returned. “Never mind, I know exactly what we’re doing first. Finding something decent to eat!”
Glory turned her back on her wide-eyed audience and focused on Kinkajou. “You go ahead. I have to tell my friends what just happened. And also find someone to teach me every thing about RainWing skills in the next day.”
“I can do that!” Kinkajou said. “After I eat. I’m going to eat every piece of fruit in the rainforest. Where should I meet you?”
“Try the healers’ hut,” Glory said with a sigh. “Bring Mangrove, too.”
Kinkajou shot off into the trees. Glory swiveled her head around and checked that Silver was still asleep on her shoulder. Ignoring the crowd, she spread her wings and flew away. If she remembered Magnificent’s directions correctly, the healers’ treehouse was not far.
She spotted the red berries growing on the balcony and swooped down to a treehouse whose leafy roof was dotted with skylight holes. Inside, only two of the beds were taken: one by Webs, and the other by a sleeping RainWing with a bandage on his snout, as if he had bumped into a tree while flying around. Three RainWings in shades of white and soothing blue were gathered in a corner, eating bananas and talking in low voices.
Sure enough, Sunny and Starflight were crouched beside Webs, watching him anxiously. Well, Sunny was watching Webs. As usual, Starflight was watching Sunny.
Webs was sprawled across a nest of spider-shaped leaves in the sunlight. He was asleep, breathing peacefully for the first time since Blister had attacked him. Sunny was right; the cactus juice clearly was working. The scratch on his tail wasn’t completely healed, but the edges looked much less raw and the black had faded instead of spreading further.
“I guess you saved him,” Glory remarked, sliding up beside them.
“I hope so,” Sunny said. “But he’s still really sad. He keeps mumbling in his sleep about how it’s his fault the SkyWings found and destroyed the Summer Palace.”
“Well. It is,” Glory said.
“Oh, very sympathetic,” Starflight said. “Come on. Webs didn’t know Crocodile was following him.”
Crocodile — the last dragon Glory had used her venom on before the Night Kingdom. She saw a flash of the MudWing’s terrified face and shoved the thought away. That was self-defense. It was always self-defense. The kind of self-defense her fellow RainWings really needed to learn.
Sunny brushed Glory’s shoulder with her wing, and Glory flinched back. “You should put something on your scratches,” Sunny said.
“This isn’t a scratch,” Glory informed her, pointing to the bleeding slash on her back leg, which had started to throb in a fiercely painful way. “It’s a battle wound.”
“Yes, you’re very tough and scary,” Sunny said. She beckoned to the white and blue RainWings while Glory wondered if that was sarcasm. Sarcasm from Sunny? It didn’t seem likely. She twisted to watch as the RainWings dabbed some kind of paste on her injuries.
“Watch it,” she hissed, but after a moment the stinging faded, and all she could feel was cool numbness. Glory studied the wounds and sniffed the paste, which smelled a bit like mint. “Hmmm,” she said finally. “A dragonet named Kinkajou is on her way here. She needs some of that, too.” She caught Sunny’s significant look and gave the healers a nod. “Thanks.”
“Where’s your army?” Starflight asked Glory, only a little snidely.
“They’re . . . a work in progress,” said Glory. Sunny leaned over Webs, adjusting the dressing on his injury. “So, by the way,” Glory went on, “I’ve decided to be queen of the RainWings.”
Sunny tripped, and Webs let out an “oof” as she landed on him, but he didn’t wake up. Starflight turned to stare at Glory incredulously.
“But why? You’ve never wanted to be a queen,” he said.
“You don’t know that,” said Glory. She was aware of the healers hovering just within earshot, trying to look busy but obviously eavesdropping. “It just didn’t come up because we were too busy hearing about how much Tsunami wanted to be queen. Anyway, I have to if I want to lead them into battle against the NightWings.”
“Battle?” Starflight said anxiously.
“I think you’ll be a great queen,” said Sunny with a flutter of her golden wings.
“RRRBBL,” agreed the sloth, waking up and leaning around Glory’s neck.
“Maybe we don’t have to fight the NightWings,” Starflight said in a plaintive voice. “Let me talk to them. Maybe I can find out why they’ve been taking RainWings in the first place.”
“They still need rescuing,” Glory snapped.
“Maybe the NightWings will let them go,” Starflight said. “Maybe if I explain to them —”
“That keeping dragons tied up in caves is wrong?” Glory said. “Sure, that’s probably never occurred to them. Or that they should have asked politely before stealing RainWing venom?”
“And don’t forget the MudWings,” Sunny added. “Why did they kill those two soldiers?”
Glory had forgotten about the dead MudWings. If that had been the NightWings, too — then what on Pyrrhia were they up to?
“Listen,” she said to Starflight, “I know you don’t want to meet your tribe for the first time on the opposite side of a battlefield. But they can’t be trusted. It’s not even safe for you; we have no idea whether Deathbringer was supposed to
kill you as well.”
“They would never kill me!” Starflight protested. “I’m one of them!”
“Barely,” said Glory. “Anyway, I’d rather find out the truth with a whole lot of venom as backup, wouldn’t you?”
Starflight twisted his talons together. Glory glanced out the nearest window and saw a pair of dragons shift quickly to camouflage on the branch outside. She squinted and thought she could see shimmers of movement on several other branches as well. Apparently her tribe was finally interested in her.
“Wait,” said Sunny, sitting up and flaring her wings. “If you want to be queen, don’t you have to kill Magnificent?”
“They have this whole no-kill ing way of taking the throne,” Glory said. “They’re RainWings, of course they do.”
“They do? That’s fantastic,” Sunny said with unexpected intensity. “That’s how all the tribes should do it. Maybe after we stop the war we can teach everyone the RainWing way of changing queens.”
Glory gave her a quizzical look. That was a lot of enthusiasm for a RainWing way of doing things. She was pretty sure most dragons wouldn’t feel that way.
“Why don’t we take our revolution one step at a time,” she said, flicking her tail at Sunny. “The other tribes have been doing things their way for hundreds of years.”
“So?” Sunny said. “Things can change.”
“If queens didn’t kill their challengers,” Starflight interjected, “what would stop the challengers from trying again the next day, and the next? Or if the challenger won, the queen could just come try to take it back. Instead of ruling her kingdom, a queen would have to spend all her time simply trying to keep her throne.”
“Then we make new rules,” Sunny said stubbornly. “Like she can only be challenged at certain times of the year, or each challenger can try twice before giving up, or something like that. We’re dragons, not caterpillars. We can do things differently if we choose to.”
“Dragons are dragons, Sunny,” Glory said. “Fighting is part of our nature.”