Kinkajou hurried forward and whispered in her friend’s ear, then led Tamarin over to Glory. The blind RainWing moved confidently across the unsteady vine surface as if she knew where every leaf and every gap would be. She kept her wings up and out like an insect’s antennae.

“This is Glory,” Kinkajou said. “Our next queen.” She held out Tamarin’s front talons to feel Glory’s face and wings.

“Why would you pick me?” Tamarin blurted. She wore only one garland of flowers around her shoulders. The shades of red and pink and purple didn’t match at all, but they smelled amazing. It made Glory think of coconuts and honey without making her hungry.

“I told her about you,” said Kinkajou. Her voice faltered a little, giving away that she hadn’t quite mentioned every thing.

“I had no idea there were any blind dragons, except in old scroll stories,” Glory said. She fluttered a wing in front of Tamarin’s eyes, but the RainWing didn’t blink. “How do you fly between the trees? How do you land? Don’t you accidentally walk off platforms and fall out of hammocks all the time?”

“Not anymore,” Tamarin answered. The green was starting to fade from her scales as she relaxed. “The first year, yes. All the time.”

She lifted her wings higher to reveal an old scar twisting across her underbelly. Glory spotted a few others on Tamarin’s wings and neck. These weren’t like the battle scars the war had given to so many dragons. These told the story of a tiny dragonet crashing into trees, plummeting off walkways, and impaling herself on stray branches as she tried to learn to fly in total darkness.

“But everyone took care of me,” Tamarin said. “There was always a dragon watching me, helping me and teaching me.” Glory glanced at the watching tribe. She would have guessed that no one would take responsibility for a little blind dragonet. Instead, everyone had, which gave her hope. “And now I have the village memorized, so I know all the distances and obstacles.” Tamarin’s ruff folded down and then opened again, as if she was sensing the shifting wind currents.

Queen Magnificent unfurled her purple wings and stood up on her back talons. “Let’s begin!” she called. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

“We’re ready,” Glory said.

“No inspiring speech?” Jambu said, sounding disappointed.

Kinkajou and Mangrove tilted their snouts toward her expectantly. Tamarin’s ears twitched.

“I gave one yesterday,” Glory protested.

“So now do one just for us,” Kinkajou said. Her scales kept shifting to match the dark green leaves below them, as if she was trying to hide whatever she was really feeling. Mangrove, on the other hand, was a resigned sky-blue.

“Um. All right. Do your best,” Glory said. “And thanks and stuff.”

Kinkajou stifled a laugh.

“Wow,” said Mangrove. “I feel so moved.”

Queen Magnificent beckoned imperiously and two portly RainWings flew up beside her, carrying a low table carved from a single log of mahogany. Arranged neatly on top were five nuts, each polished brown and about the size of a dragon eye.

“This contest has five parts, each related to the special talents of our tribe,” said Queen Magnificent. “You assign one team member per part, and whichever team wins three out of the five contests, wins the crown.” She pointed a sharp claw at the first nut. “Venom targeting.” She pointed to the second. “A flower hunt.” The third: “Treetop race.” The fourth: “Fruit gathering.”

The last nut she picked up and turned over in her front talons. “And naturally there must be a camouflage competition. We are RainWings, after all.” She set it down again with a toothy smile. “Let’s start with fruit gathering, so the competitors can work on it while we finish the other contests.”

“Certainly,” said Handsome. “Quite logical. It’s a very straightforward contest. Each dragon has an hour to collect as many different types of fruit as he or she can find. The one who comes back with the most variety wins.”

“Dazzling will compete for our side,” Magnificent said, sweeping one wing toward the portly queen. “And for yours?”

Glory studied her own dragons, beating back the anxiety that threatened to climb up her scales. The contests all featured RainWing skills, so on the one talon, she had outwitted Magnificent by choosing RainWings instead of her friends. But on the other talon, she barely knew her teammates. She had no idea what they were good at.

“All right,” Glory said to them, keeping her voice low. “Who should do what? Jambu, you teach tree gliding — are you fast? Can you do the treetop race?”

“Of course!” her brother said, glowing with bright pink enthusiasm.

“Give me the flower one,” said Tamarin. “If it’s about flowers, I can do it.”

Glory hesitated. “She said flower hunt, though.”

“I know flowers,” Tamarin insisted.

Give her a chance, said a voice in Glory’s head. It’s what a good queen would do. “All right.” Glory glanced at the row of nuts on the table, thinking through the other contests. Her day of training hadn’t exactly left her feeling confident about most of these.

“I guess I should do the camouflage contest,” she said. “I have no idea where to find fruits in the rainforest, and I’m not exactly a venom expert.” She thought of the mess she’d made of every thing they’d put in front of her yesterday. “Mangrove, I know you’re a fruit gatherer. But Kinkajou . . . sorry, but I got the impression from Bromeliad that venom practice wasn’t going well with you.”

“That’s because Bromeliad is a slow old baboon,” Kinkajou said hotly. “I’m super-great at venom shooting! I swear! Plus Mangrove can carry more fruit than I can.”

Glory rubbed her forehead. She only had to win three of the five contests, after all. “All right,” she said, turning back to the waiting queens. “Mangrove will do the fruit gathering for us.”

Mangrove spread his wings and bowed to Dazzling. At a signal from Handsome, they both flew off into the trees, heading in opposite directions and sending up tornadoes of tiny crimson butterflies as they went.

“Now,” said Handsome. He glanced up at the sky and turned in a slow circle so that all the watching dragons could hear him. “Next! The treetop race, a test of speed and agility!”

Magnificent spun one of the nuts on the table. “Exquisite, that means you.”

“And me!” Jambu said delightedly.

Handsome grinned. “I’ll never forget the last treetop race I saw. Weren’t you in that?” he asked Grandeur. “Who was your challenger?”

“No one worth mentioning,” Grandeur said frostily. “Naturally I won.”

“But you’re too old for racing now,” Magnificent said dismissively. Grandeur gave her a wholehearted glare that Magnificent completely missed.

The sloth on Exquisite’s tail clambered up to her neck as the silver queen stepped forward. She dipped her wings so the other two sloths could slide off onto the vines.

Strong shoulders, Glory noticed. Big wings. I bet she’s fast. Jambu looked like a bright pink monkey next to the sleek silver dragoness.

Handsome pointed up at the treetops surrounding the Arboretum. A small platform, about three dragons wide, was set in the high branches. Peach-colored flowers studded the dark wood planks, tied in bunches with strands of silver sloth fur.

“That is the start and end of the race,” he said. “You will fly three times around the Arboretum, staying outside the ring of trees. If you fly inside the ring, you will be disqualified. If you touch your opponent, you will be disqualified. As long as you stay outside the ring, you may take any path around, but you must touch down on the platform as you complete each circuit. Understood?”

“Got it,” Jambu said, flexing his wings.

Exquisite didn’t answer. She had her front talons curled around her two sloths and was cooing at them as they clambered over her claws.

“Your Majesty?” said Handsome, and then caught himself. “That is — I mean, Exquisite? Do you understand the rules?”

“Of course,” she said, disentangling her pets. She set the third one down next to them and stroked their heads. “I’ll be back in a moment, darlings. I just have to win this race for Auntie Maggie.”

“Stop calling me that,” Magnificent said crossly. “I’m nobody’s auntie. Certainly not a bunch of sloths. And this isn’t just for me, you big furhead. It’s your throne, too.”

“There, there,” Exquisite said to the sloths, who had curled up into a sleepy pile of fur. “Auntie Maggie isn’t mad at you. She’s just in a bad temper because she has to actually do something today.” In a loud whisper that absolutely everyone could hear, she added, “Besides, she’s jealous that you all are so much prettier than her sloth.”

Magnificent snarled in a very unqueenly way and shot a dark look at the three sloths, as if she might throw them off the Arboretum while Exquisite was racing.

“Good luck,” Glory said to Jambu. “Please win.”

“That’s the plan,” he said cheerfully. He followed Handsome and Exquisite up to the platform, then leaned over the edge and waved at the crowd of dragons around the edges of the Arboretum. Sunny and several other dragons waved back. It occurred to Glory to wonder who everyone was rooting for. Did anyone want her to win? Did they know what that would mean, or about all the things she wanted to change about their world?

Her gaze swept across the RainWings — the tribe that might soon be hers. She tried to read their scales, but as far as she could tell, today most of them had chosen their colors for their looks, as though they were showing off at a party. The only emotions she spotted were bright yellow bursts of excitement in their scales here and there. And she had a feeling they’d be like that about anything new that happened.

Handsome stepped onto a branch shaped like a coiling dragon tail and spread his wings.

“Start when you hear the toucan call,” he said to Jambu and Exquisite. “Don’t forget the rules. Ready? And — CAW!”

Glory was so startled by the sound that came out of his throat that she missed the beginning of the race. Handsome had perfectly imitated the noises she’d been hearing from the big-beaked birds. If that was another RainWing talent, it was one she’d never even thought of trying before.

Exquisite shot ahead of Jambu, swinging smoothly from branch to vine to branch. Her tail was longer than Jambu’s, giving her a wider swing and farther reach. But his narrower wings helped him dive between some tangles of branches that she had to maneuver around, and by the time they got back to the platform for the first time, his snout was almost brushing her tail.

“Go Jambu!” Sunny yelled from her spot on the walkway. “You’re going to win! You’re the fastest dragon in the forest! Woo hoo!” Kinkajou nudged Tamarin, and they both started hooting and shouting as well.

Personally Glory thought that much noise would have been an annoying distraction, but it seemed to add wind to Jambu’s wings. He banked around a trunk, dodged a loop of hibiscus-covered vines, and shot past Exquisite on the outside.

Well, if it works, Glory thought. “Yay!” she hollered. “Jambu is the best! Uh — you’re an awesome glider! Good, uh . . . flying! Yaayyy!”

She caught Tsunami giving her an amused look and stuck out her tongue at the SeaWing.

Jambu brushed the platform a second time with his claws and took off again. A few moments later, Exquisite thudded down in the same spot and gave chase. Her wings pumped and her brow was furrowed angrily.

Glory’s heart pounded as she watched them swerve through the trees. One more circuit — if Jambu could stay ahead just a bit longer, he’d win. Hang in there. She dug her claws into the vines below her, wishing she could be up there, giving him her speed somehow.

Jambu ricocheted off a tree and dipped through a hole in the branches. He veered around the last curve and suddenly flung his wings up to stop his momentum. He thrashed in place for a moment, and Glory saw a vine wound around his neck. He twisted backward, gasping for air, and flailed to the side.

With a horrible lurch in her stomach, Glory watched Jambu tip over, crossing into the ring of trees. At the same time, Exquisite whisked past him and landed neatly on the platform. She lifted her wings and turned in a triumphant circle as deep blue-purple waves whooshed through her scales.

But Glory had seen something else, too.

That vine hadn’t appeared out of nowhere. Something was scurrying away from the spot where Jambu had nearly strangled himself.

Several somethings, in fact, with shaggy silver fur.