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The sprite claps. “Very good,” she says in her tiny voice. “Your antidote waits on the other side.”
“It’s a test.” Mack perks up at that. “We have to match the correct poison with the correct antidote.”
Mack goes first. She places a drop of oleander on her tongue. The gate creaks open to let her through. I watch her rush across the bridge, and a moment later, she appears on the other side, giving a thumbs up.
My turn. I choose snowdrops. The poison tastes like pennies on my tongue as I sprint to the antidote, which unfortunately, is frog’s piss.
The portal that leads back to the Spring Court is only fifty yards or so ahead. We have no idea if we’re even close to first place . . . or last.
“Has anyone else passed through here yet?” I call to the sprite.
She shakes her tiny head, and Mack lets out a whoop. “I knew it!”
“One of us is about to win first place,” I breathe, in shock.
Mack’s face is a mask of determination as she turns to me. “Ready?”
I nod, a slow grin stretching my lips. “Let the best shadow win.”
We both sprint at the same time, leaping over thick vines that could kill us with one prick of their thorns. My netting flies off, followed by Mack’s a second later. Twenty feet to go. My heart slams into my breastbone. Sweat pours into my eyes. I swat away a shiny blue wasp as I hurdle the final obstacle, a fallen tree covered in moss and fire-red ants.
Ten feet. Five. I look behind me. Mack’s too far back.
I’m going to win.
Something dark flashes in the middle of the path between us. Still running, I glance down—
The snake on the ground in front of her is black as night. It’s coiled aggressively, its head lifted knee-high and fanned out in the shape of a hood. An orange teardrop marking rests on the backside of its skull.
Ash Viper.
A split second—that’s all it takes to decide whether to win or save my best friend’s life. Pivoting, I fling my weight on my back leg, reach for her, and do the only thing I can.
Tug her forward, over the viper and out of its lethal reach.
Her mouth falls open in shock, our eyes locking as her momentum and my strength pull her in front of me . . . ’s no doubt which season awaits us next. The flames of the portal are bright orange and a strong, hot wind blows from the other side.
“Summer Court.” I inhale deeply. “It smells like . . . smoke.”
“The burning savannah.” Mack takes a step back from the portal, brow furrowed.
Just like me, mud splatters her clothes, leaves and twigs caught in her hair. Dark, oily specks of orc blood fleck her face—but I don’t dare tell her.
“Is that as bad as it sounds?”
“The weather is hot, windy, and dry, and fire sprites inhabit the grasses, which means wildfires are a constant.”
I frown. “Is there any nearby water?”
“There’s ponds but—they’re spread out. I don’t see how those could help us.” The hesitation in her voice is alarming.
“Does anything else live in the grassland?”
“Rabbits, maybe a few griffins from the nearby forests. They hunt the rabbits.”
Griffins. I remember the last griffin. How it helped me.
She wipes at her face, unknowingly smearing the orc blood. “What are you thinking?”
