The rainforest was an ocean of leaves below Turtle, tossing and rippling in the wind like a dark green sea. A spray of bright yellow birds flew out of it, squawking and diving and looping back down again to sink beneath the surface. But the smell here was nothing like the ocean: wild fruit and monkey droppings, heat and rich dirt, and roots growing in thick tangles in place of fish, salt, wide open air.

“I have no idea why you decided to come,” Anemone said, sweeping up on Turtle’s left. He started, then glanced around at Darkstalker, but the large dragon was far in the lead, scanning the forest below. Anemone had been so close to him all morning that Turtle hadn’t had a chance to speak to her — or try to convince her not to come.

“I could say the same about you,” he pointed out. “Shouldn’t you be in school? Mother wouldn’t want you wandering around Pyrrhia like this.”

“I can learn far more from Darkstalker than from a crusty old shipwreck like Webs,” Anemone snorted. “And Mother doesn’t have me on a leash anymore. I can go wherever I like.”

“Wasn’t Pike worried about you leaving?” Turtle tried. His pouch thumped lightly against his chest as he twisted in the air to keep Anemone in sight. “I’m surprised he didn’t insist on coming with you, at least.”

“Oh, I didn’t tell him,” she said, tossing her head. “He was sleeping outside my cave, which he often does, because he’s such a weirdo, and I snuck right past him. Not much of a guard, if that’s what he was trying to do! Ha ha!”

Poor Pike, waking up to find the princess had disappeared on his watch. He’d feel like such a failure. Turtle knew what that was like.

“But what’s your excuse?” Anemone demanded. “I thought you were terrified of Darkstalker. You said he doesn’t like you, but he never even looks at you.”

“I just … want to see what he does,” said Turtle. His claws itched to reach for his pouch, to make sure the stick was still there, but he fought back the urge.

“In case he does something SUPER EVIL?” Anemone teased, pouncing at him. Turtle flinched away. “You jellyfish. He’s going to rescue his tribe, that’s all.”

“Queen Glory already rescued his tribe,” Turtle pointed out. “They’re not on the volcano anymore. They’re perfectly safe.”

“Right, safe to be the crushed seashells under the talons of the RainWings.” Anemone rolled her eyes. “Think about it, big brother. Imagine if Mother died and I was too spineless to take the throne, so all the SeaWings decided to go live in the Mud Kingdom and let Queen Moorhen boss us around. Is that any way for a self-respecting tribe to live?”

Turtle noticed Fearless listening to them with a scowl on her face. He decided it might be a good idea to change the subject.

“Did you get in trouble with Darkstalker last night?” he asked. “I mean, I heard he was looking for you.” He needed to know what was going on in Darkstalker’s head. Did he suspect there was another animus around?

“Oh, that was the most ridiculous thing,” Anemone said with a laugh. “He asked me if I cast a spell without his permission. I said, ‘oh, PERMISSION, is that how this is?’ and he said, ‘without my brilliant advice, then.’ I said I didn’t think so, but sometimes I’ve used my power accidentally without noticing. Like, you’d think an animus would learn not to yell at her stuff, but sometimes I forget and do it anyway. I made a pearl necklace explode that way once. Anyway, no, of course I’m not in trouble! He knows I’m a princess and can do whatever I want.”

Oh, does he? Turtle thought. But he didn’t have a chance to respond. Up ahead, Darkstalker shot a burst of flame into the sky and beckoned to Anemone and the NightWings. They darted over to him as though he was the sun and they all wanted to fall into it.

“Time for our grand entrance!” Darkstalker announced. He dove into the canopy and the others followed, one by one.

Turtle sighed and flapped along behind them. He wondered what would happen if Anemone figured out that Darkstalker couldn’t see or hear Turtle. She tended to accept that the world revolved around her, so it would probably be a while before she noticed.

And then … will I tell her the truth?

He dropped from the hot-sun sky down and down into dappled green light that reminded him of the Summer Palace, before it was destroyed. Long-limbed creatures of fur flurried out along the branches as he maneuvered carefully between the thick vines and grasping spider webs. The trees were interwoven like living nets, lying in wait for their prey.

Far below them, on the rainforest floor, the entire NightWing tribe was gathered in a clearing, looking up. All around them were grass huts and ramshackle wooden structures, many of them only half built. The scent of crispy boar meat rose from a fire pit that glowed in the center of the village, carefully lined with rocks.

Queen Glory stood on a mahogany platform, facing the tribe. She was the only RainWing present, or at least visible, and her scales were set in an intricate overlapping leaf pattern of bright green, gold, and black. Beside her, as close as her shadow, was a NightWing with a worried expression. Turtle guessed that was Deathbringer, from the stories he’d heard about the young RainWing queen and her loyal, self-appointed bodyguard.

Glory watched Darkstalker descend without a hint of emotion on her face, nor even the slightest color change in her scales. Turtle wondered if she’d ever been afraid of anything in her life.

He perched on a branch overhead, where the tooth-shaped leaves matched the dark green of his scales. Below, Darkstalker soared down to land next to Glory, instantly dwarfing her and Deathbringer. A muffled gasp rustled through the crowd of NightWings. Deathbringer sidled a step closer to Glory, but the queen herself neither flinched nor moved.

Anemone hovered for a moment at Darkstalker’s shoulder, but there was no room on the platform for anyone else. Huffing grumpily, she landed on the ground close by, then spent several minutes pointedly scraping all the muddy leaves out of her little patch of dirt.

“Darkstalker, I presume,” said Glory. She nodded to Moon and the other three NightWing dragonets as they slipped into the tribe. Turtle saw each of them find their parents; he saw Moon’s mother wrap her wings around her daughter. He saw Mindreader whispering excitedly to a tall male NightWing, holding out her bracelet.

“I see Sunny used the dreamvisitor to tell you we were coming,” Darkstalker said. “Even though I asked her very nicely not to. Interesting.”

“The tribe prefers not to be surprised,” Glory said, indicating the sea of black dragons below them. “But as you can see, despite your prediction, no one has run away. They chose to be brave, to stand together and face you.”

That wasn’t entirely accurate; Turtle had seen a few dragons bolt into the forest as Darkstalker flew down. But he didn’t blame them, considering Darkstalker had been the tribe’s worst nightmare for the last two thousand years. He was amazed so many of them were able to hold their ground. He wondered what Queen Glory had said to them to give them that strength.

Darkstalker smiled his dazzling smile. “There’s no need to be brave,” he said. “I’m no monster. The history you’ve been fed is all a pack of lies.” He opened his talons palm up toward the tribe, as if revealing all his secrets to them. “They told you I was evil, that I was about to do terrible things, and that I was locked away to protect you. None of that is true, my fellow NightWings.

“I had a majestic future planned for our tribe. Power and security and wealth and peace for every dragon. No running, no hiding, no lying or starving or living in fear. But there were dragons who didn’t trust my vision for us. They feared what our tribe could become.”

He swept one wing open in an arc as though he were flinging diamond dust over the entire crowd. Turtle wondered how much Darkstalker had rehearsed this speech, alone in the dark, deep under layers of rock.

“I was betrayed on the brink of changing everything.” Darkstalker took a breath, as if he could feel daggers stabbing into his back. “Dragons I thought I could trust trapped me underground, where I’ve been asleep against my will for the last two thousand years. Meanwhile, our tribe fell apart — lost its power, its home, its position in Pyrrhia. And history scrolls were written about me by deceitful dragons who feared my powers.

“Am I evil? No. Murderous? Not even remotely. Dangerous? Not to my own tribe, or to my friends.”

His eyes went to Moon, and a few other NightWings turned to look at her as well.

“Here’s the real truth. I love our tribe.” Darkstalker looked alive in a way Turtle hadn’t seen yet. He looked … happy. “The NightWings were once the most powerful, most respected and creative tribe in Pyrrhia. And I can show you the way to become that tribe again.”

He paused, perhaps expecting applause, but the only sound was the wind in the trees and a jaguar roar in the distance.

“These dragons have been working hard to build their new home,” Glory said, her calm voice carrying across the clearing. “They have security and peace here. They are smart, fierce, determined, and full of surprising ideas. They don’t need any help to become a great tribe — they already are one.”

Now there was a reaction — a rustling as several NightWings stood up straighter, tipped their wings back, lifted their chins.

“I’m sure they are,” said Darkstalker. “But I know what they could be. I can see the shining future ahead, if everyone follows me.”

“Follows you?” Deathbringer jumped in. Glory gave him a quelling look, but he barreled on. “Follows you where?”

“Back to our old kingdom, of course,” said Darkstalker. He gazed down at Glory, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“Queen Glory,” he said, and there was a lilt to his voice that hinted at how amusing he found that phrase. “I’m here to challenge you for the throne of the NightWing tribe.”