All around the Arboretum, RainWings started screaming.

Kinkajou collapsed in a ball of scales that went instantly white with pain, except for the three spots where black venom was eating through her wing.

Glory rushed to her side and found Grandeur opposite her, grabbing Kinkajou’s talons. Grandeur’s face was horrified.

“Help her!” Glory yelled. She remembered what Jambu had told her about how a relative’s venom would counteract your own. “Who’s related to you? Get them over here!”

“I don’t know,” Grandeur said hopelessly. “I haven’t had any eggs in decades. I haven’t tried matching venom with anyone in so long. I don’t think there’s anyone related to me anymore.”

“That’s insane!” Glory shouted. “Why can’t you dragons keep track of these things? You must have had dragonets at some point, and they must have had dragonets, too . . .”

“Maybe, but no one has —”

Kinkajou shrieked, a high wailing sound of agony.

“Start trying,” Glory cried. “Try everyone. Try me.” She grabbed the easel and spat a messy puddle of venom on the corner. The wood hissed and melted as if it were burning from the inside.

Grandeur didn’t hesitate. She sprayed her venom right on top of Glory’s.

And the melting stopped.

Glory didn’t have time for the shocked expression on Grandeur’s face. She couldn’t risk trying to aim neatly for the same three spots where Grandeur’s venom had hit Kinkajou; she might end up causing far more damage. Quickly she ripped three leaves off the vine below her, dipped them in the puddle of her own venom, and stuck them to Kinkajou’s wounds.

The sizzling sound faded and the black acid stopped spreading.

“You’re all right. You’re going to be all right,” Glory said to Kinkajou, lifting the dragonet’s head in her talons. She realized the little dragon had fainted.

Also, Grandeur was staring at her as if sloths were parading out of Glory’s ears.

“What?” Glory said. “So I’m your granddaughter or great-grandniece or something. It’s not like anyone around here really cares, right?”

“I do,” said Grandeur, “because it means that you are descended from the original line of RainWing queens, and so I am not the last one worthy of the throne after all.”

Glory blinked at her. “I didn’t think anyone cared about royal blood here.”

“Nobody but me,” said Grandeur. “We used to keep track of the royal eggs, but my daughters were useless, so we merged our eggs with the tribe’s, hoping to find successors who were queens in spirit, if not blood. There were a few who might have been great if they’d ever tried for the throne, but the truth is, I’ve never found a dragonet who both wanted to be queen and deserved to be. Until now.”

She stood up and faced Magnificent like an enormous storm cloud. “I forfeit. Kinkajou wins.”

“What?” Magnificent shrieked.

“Did you hear that?” Glory said to Kinkajou. “You won.”

The dragonet’s eyes fluttered open and she managed a smile. “That is . . . super-cool,” she whispered. Tamarin came up behind them and slid her wing under Kinkajou’s head so Glory could stand up next to Grandeur. She felt dizzy with disbelief.

“It’s my throne anyway,” Grandeur said to Magnificent. “I have merely tolerated all of you on it because I thought experience might transform you into worthy queens.” She shot a disgusted look at Dazzling, Exquisite, and Fruit Bat. “That theory turned out to be quite wrong.”

“You don’t know anything about this dragon,” Magnificent complained, pointing at Glory.

“I know she’ll be a better queen than you,” said Grandeur. She turned to the assembled tribe with a sweeping gesture. “Behold! Your new queen! Queen Glory of the RainWings!”

And they cheered.

Glory stepped back, dazzled, as what looked like the whole tribe rose into the air, beating their wings and singing out joyfully. The rainbow of different colors was swept away on a tide of sunflower-gold excitement, and Glory thought to herself, Wow.

I’m a queen. Queen Glory of the RainWings. That’ll be my name in the history scrolls — not Glory the mistake, or Glory the lazy RainWing, or Glory who could never be as good as some nameless SkyWing who died six years ago.

I’m responsible for all these dragons now. We can rescue the missing RainWings and make sure no more dragonets ever get lost again. Starflight can help me teach them all how to read and write. I’ll protect them. I’ll lead them. I’ll make them — us — a tribe we can be proud of.

Glory, the queen who chose her own destiny, saved her subjects, and turned her tribe into the greatest dragons in all of Pyrrhia.

“Speech!” Jambu demanded, barreling into her. His scales were a pink so vibrant it almost hurt her eyes to look at him.

“Don’t you start. Luckily no one would hear me over all this noise,” Glory said with a wave at her jubilant subjects. She gave her brother an affectionate shove and he wound his tail around hers for a moment, and she didn’t even mind.

As he bounded off to assault someone else’s eyes, she felt movement at her wing and turned, thinking it was Kinkajou, but it was Sunny. Sunbeams danced on her gold scales as the little SandWing beamed at her.

“You did it,” she said.

“Not by myself,” said Glory. “I needed these dragons to make it happen.” She spread her wings to encompass Jambu and Mangrove, but they were bouncing around in excitement. Tamarin was hugging Kinkajou, and even the wounded dragonet was pale pink with joy.

“This is so unfair,” Tsunami said, landing beside them. She sighed dramatically. “This was supposed to be my story. Stupid SeaWings, already having a decent queen.”

“Maybe you’ll still be the SeaWing queen one day,” Glory said. “And then I can give you tips on how to be majestic and brilliant.”

They grinned at each other.

“This just proves what I’ve always said,” Tsunami observed. “Who needs a prophecy to tell you how to make an awesome destiny?”

“True,” Glory said. “Take that, prophecy. You’re not about me? Well, I’m not all about you either.”

Sunny fluttered her wings like a settling butterfly. “We still need you, though,” she said. “You’re still one of us, and no one will ever convince me otherwise.”

Glory brushed Sunny’s wing with hers, feeling a warmth that wasn’t coming from the SandWing’s scales. “The first thing we have to do is rescue the RainWings from the Night Kingdom,” she said. “Which means turning these dragons into an army as fast as possible — Tsunami can help with that.”

“Yes, I can,” Tsunami said, flexing her claws.

“Well, actually,” Sunny said. “I was thinking maybe there’s another —”

The sound of branches thrashing overhead made Glory spin around. Clay came barreling through the trees, trailing broken twigs and wrestling loops of vines out of his way. He stared around wildly at the rejoicing RainWings, spotted Glory, and crashed down in front of her.

“Clay!” Sunny cried. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Horrible images popped into Glory’s head — of her friends hurt, of a NightWing army marching through the tunnel to invade the rainforest. . . .

“It’s Starflight,” Clay said. “He’s disappeared.” He shot an anxious look at Glory, and she remembered the argument she’d had with Starflight the last time she’d seen him. Surely he hadn’t —

“Glory, I’m sorry,” said Clay. “But I think he’s gone to warn the NightWings.”