The Arboretum, it turned out, was the heart of the RainWing village. Vines and branches were woven tightly together to form a wide field high above the ground, open to the sky and surrounded by treehouses, walkways, and hammocks. Several of the treehouses around the edge appeared to be set up for trading fruits and flower garlands. Brilliant blue and coppery orange birds darted through the leaves, chattering and calling to one another like an audience gathering for a performance.

There seemed to be room for the entire village to gather around the edges of the circle — and it looked like the entire village had shown up. The rumble of dragon voices mixed with the chirruping of sloths and sent shivers through the wooden walkway where Glory stood, studying the green stadium in front of her.

Glory was reminded, uncomfortably, of the SkyWing arena where her friends had battled for Queen Scarlet’s amusement. From the way Tsunami’s tail was twitching, Glory guessed she felt the same way.

“This is unfair,” Tsunami grumbled. “If you win —”

“You’ll have to call me ‘Your Majesty,’ ” Glory said, grinning. “I know. Won’t that be hilarious?”

“Arrrgh, and your face will look like that all the time,” Tsunami said. “It’s going to be so hard not to bite you.”

“But if you do, my guards will throw you in my dungeons,” Glory said with an imperious wave of her talons.

“RainWings don’t have dungeons,” Kinkajou pointed out.

“There’s a surprise. Well, I’ll make one just for Tsunami,” Glory said.

“Maybe I should have let Starflight come to this instead,” Tsunami said. “Postpone my agony a little bit.”

Starflight and Clay were taking a shift watching the NightWing tunnel. They’d seen nothing come out of it yet — not so much as a puff of smoke. Glory found that both alarming and reassuring. Maybe the NightWings were afraid to fight RainWings. That would make attacking them a bit easier.

She hadn’t had a chance to talk to Starflight yet; he’d stayed out by the tunnel all night. I’ll talk to him right after the contest, she thought. Telling him about Queen Scarlet ought to distract him from fretting about fighting NightWings.

And I cannot think about Queen Scarlet right now.

“I could have watched the tunnel,” Sunny said. “I don’t understand why no one will let me take a turn on guard.”

“Well, for one thing, I need you here to cheer me on,” Glory said. “Who could do that better than you?”

“I think I’m being patronized,” Sunny said. She poked at the wooden platform below them with the harmless point of her tail. “But I’ll cheer for you anyway. You’re definitely going to win. I’m not worried.”

Glory was a little worried. For one thing, her opponent had apparently multiplied overnight.

Queen Magnificent was waiting in the center of the canopy. Her scales were resplendently purple with scalloped gold edging on each individual scale, which was a color trick Glory had never tried. She had taken off most of her flower necklaces, replacing them with one small wreath of lilies on her ruff, which had the effect of looking like a lacy white crown.

Arrayed behind her were four more RainWings — all quite large, quite beautiful, and quite outraged, judging from their expressions and coloring.

“Who are they?” Glory asked Kinkajou.

“The other queens,” Kinkajou whispered. “I mean — you know, the ones who take turns being queen. I guess they don’t particularly want you to take their job either.”

“Are any of them better than Magnificent?” Glory asked. Maybe there was another option. It didn’t have to be her, as long as the RainWings had a queen who would take care of them.

But Kinkajou was shaking her head. “They’re all pretty much the same,” she said. She pointed to one of the queens, who looked like she’d eaten a few too many avocados and papayas during her reign. “That one’s Dazzling. She’ll grant anyone anything they ask if they bring her enough tribute. She has the throne before Magnificent; after Magnificent, it passes to Grandeur.”

Grandeur was a stately older dragon with half-asleep eyes and a sour expression. Her ruff was indignantly pale orange at the moment, but the rest of her scales were pale lavender and seemed to glitter with tiny dewdrops.

“During her reign,” Kinkajou said, “ she’ll only see petitioners once a week, for an hour. First come, first served, and if you don’t get in during that hour, you have to wait until the next week. The lines practically stretch around the jungle. And then she says no to pretty much every thing. She’s really, really old. She’s been one of the queens for as long as anyone can remember.”

Kinkajou pointed to the next dragon, who had two sloths flopped on her back and one more perched in the curve of her tail. This queen had scales the same silvery color as the sloths, with a soft shimmer to them that looked like wind brushing through fur.

“That’s Exquisite,” said Kinkajou. “Obsessed with sloths. She has about twenty more at home. Talks about them constantly, feeds them the best fruits, grooms them with her own claws, and whenever she’s queen, she has everyone build tiny hammocks for the sloths to sleep in and weave them tiny flower necklaces. No dragon is as important to her as those sloths.”

“Dazzling, Grandeur, Exquisite,” Glory muttered, adding those to the list of things she’d memorized in the last day. “And the last one? Let me guess — Splendiferous? Astonishing? Too Beautiful for Dragon Eyes to Bear?”

“That’s Fruit Bat,” said Kinkajou.

“All right,” said Glory. “Didn’t see that coming. Who picks the names for newly hatched dragonets, if no one has any parents here?”

“There’s a list we cycle through,” Kinkajou said. “Usually the ones with shiny names are more likely to want to be queen. Fruit Bat is an exception. She’s working on this experiment to see if she can take the scents out of flowers and make herself smell like them all the time.”

Glory wrinkled her nose. “Weird. But interesting, at least. What in the world does that have to do with being queen?”

Kinkajou shrugged. “It’s not going very well. She’s been working on it for something like thirty years. She started taking a turn as queen so that she could have access to the royal gardens, and by the end of her month, the gardens are always a wreck. My friend Tamarin is one of the flower caretakers and it drives her crazy.”

“Sounds like Magnificent might be the best of all of them,” Glory said, twisting one claw through a hole in the wood.

“Magnificent’s main problem is that she’s forgetful,” Kinkajou pointed out. “She can never remember what she’s agreed to do or what’s going on in the tribe or who asked her for what, and she doesn’t really care. We’re all pretty used to it by now.” She turned her dark shining eyes to Glory. “But if we had you as our queen instead — then every thing would be different!”

I hope so, Glory thought. I hope different in a good way. But what if I’m no better than they are?

She glanced across at Fruit Bat, who had her nose buried in a massive orchid necklace hung around her neck.

All right, I’m pretty sure I’ll be better than some of them.

The old dragon who had been in the queen’s treehouse slithered out to stand next to Magnificent. He squinted around and beckoned to Glory.

“Wish me luck,” Glory muttered, handing her sloth to Sunny. Silver burbled something anxious-sounding and clambered immediately up onto Sunny’s head for the best view.

Magnificent flattened her ruff and looked down her nose as Glory landed in front of her. The other four queens lashed their tails.

“So what’s the plan?” Glory said, shaking out her wings. “I have to defeat all five of you?” She’d chosen a summery gold color for her scales that matched the dragonflies darting through the treetops. She was determined to stay that color throughout the contest, no matter what Magnificent threw at her. Glory’s first goal: Don’t let anyone see that you’re upset, or angry, or worst of all, scared.

“No,” Handsome interjected before Magnificent could answer. “That is not the tradition. The challenger competes only against the current queen.”

“But my fellow royalty didn’t want to be left out,” said Magnificent. “So I worked them into the competition.” She smiled in a way that made Glory want to strangle her with a hammock. “Which means you’re going to need a team as well.”

“I don’t have a team,” Glory started, and then stopped herself. Well . . . I kind of do. She turned and glanced back at Sunny and Tsunami, who were watching with round eyes from the platform.

I don’t need to drag the others into this. Surely I can defeat the queens myself. What can five RainWings do that I can’t? And wouldn’t everyone be impressed if I beat all of them, all by myself, with no help whatsoever?

She flexed her wings, which were still sore from the ropes that had bound them tightly just one day earlier.

This line of thinking felt familiar. It was how she had convinced herself to go out alone as bait.

And I made it back, didn’t I? I could have handled that situation fine on my own.

But she knew it wasn’t true. Without Kinkajou, Clay, and Deathbringer, she’d still be stuck in a NightWing prison . . . or perhaps even dead, if the NightWings had had time to figure out who she was.

So don’t be an idiot. Winning the throne with help won’t make you any less of a queen.

“You get to choose your dragons,” said Magnificent. “Any four you wish.”

That makes it easy for me, Glory thought. She had exactly four friends in the world, after all. She could ask Mangrove to go guard the tunnel and send back Starflight and Clay.

She opened her mouth to call him and hesitated.

Maybe a little too easy. She studied Dazzling, Grandeur, Exquisite, and Fruit Bat. They looked ready, alert, and eager to compete. Not a look she’d seen on many RainWings before.

They’re convinced they’re going to win.

“Go ahead,” said the queen. “Call them out here. Anyone you like.”

Glory tilted her head at Magnificent. This is a trick. She wants me to pick my friends.

And then the contest will involve camouflage or venom or something that only RainWings can do.

Not only that, but my future subjects will think I trust outsiders more than I trust them.

Which, frankly, I do, because most RainWings are hopelessly incompetent.

But right now I need their help.

“I choose . . . Kinkajou,” Glory said. She heard a loud squeak of surprise behind her, and a murmur ran through the watching dragons.

“A three-year-old dragonet?” said Magnificent archly. “This should be funny.”

“And I choose Mangrove,” Glory went on, ignoring her. Mangrove stepped out of the crowd opposite her and gave her a small bow. Orchid was still out there. He’d do anything to save her; Glory could count on that.

Now it got a little harder.

Glory closed her eyes and sighed. “I choose Jambu.”

“YES!” her brother shouted, leaping into the air. “That’s me!” He bounced across the vines toward her, grinning all over his goofy pink face.

Who else? Glory ran through the dragons she’d met in the rainforest. Liana. Bromeliad. Coconut. Not a promising set. She didn’t know much about any of them, but none of them had impressed her as team players.

Kinkajou came up beside her, fidgeting excitedly and spilling deep purple-blue bubbles through her green scales. Glory remembered someone the little dragonet had mentioned when she was describing the queens. It was a risk, choosing a dragon she’d never met, but she couldn’t be worse than any other RainWing.

“And I choose Tamarin,” she said. All Glory knew about her was that she was friends with Kinkajou, she cared about her work with the flowers, and she wasn’t the biggest fan of Fruit Bat. Which sounded like three good features to Glory.

The crowd murmured again, sounding like waves rushing in from the ocean, and Queen Magnificent barked a startled laugh.

“Tamarin!” Kinkajou cried. “But — are you sure?”

“Too late,” said Magnificent. “That’s who she chose. Someone give Tamarin a shove in the right direction.”

A small dragon popped out of the crowd and stumbled forward a few steps, then stopped. She stood very still, with waves of pale green rippling across her scales. Her eyes were an odd light shade of blue and stared blankly past Glory at the trees.

“What is it?” Glory asked, glancing at Kinkajou. “Why shouldn’t I pick her?”

“You can,” said Kinkajou. “It’s just that . . . Tamarin is blind.”