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I can’t believe this worked.
We cut our ropes at the same time. As soon as the knot falls away from my griffin’s leg, I mentally command, Drop us.
The pressure around my shoulders eases and then we’re falling. Warm water envelopes me. It’s only when I surface and see the griffins flying away in the distance that I convince myself we’re safe.
At least, for the next few minutes.
As we wade to the shore, Mack turns to look at me, her eyes full of questions.
My bestie is sharp. By now, she’s put together the snow leopard and the griffins. But she knows now isn’t the time for that discussion, so she lets it go.
“I think I might have peed a little,” she mumbles.
“Ditto.”
Soaked down to our boots, we slog our way to the final portal.
By my powers of deduction, I know the fourth portal leads to the Spring Court. But even if I didn’t know that already, the overpoweringly sweet floral scent that emanates from the portal would be a huge hint.
I press my ear close to the portal’s surface. The soft hum of bees comes through.
“Flowers and bees?” Mack says, wringing out her braid. “What do those two things have in common?”
“One can be poisonous and the other stings you, so maybe . . . they’re both deadly?”
“Deadly. Right.” She exhales, sending an errant strand of damp purple hair flying from her face. “The Spring Court wildlands are an overgrown stretch of nature that’s the most formidable and dangerous in the world. Their wasps are the size of birds, nearly every plant is poisonous and the ones that aren’t are carnivorous and will literally eat you, and the water is drugged with toxins from the surrounding trees.” She rolls her shoulders as she squares to face the portal. “Did I mention the Ash Viper lives here?”
“The snake whose bite turns people into statues?”
“The one and only.”
Oh, goodie. Hellebore better guard his junk next time I see him.
With that in mind, we both choose bee hats with netting that falls to our ankles. I make my second item a large fly swatter, and Mack conjures a jug of purified water.
As soon as we come out the other side of the portal, our suspicions are confirmed. A tropical world of dense trees, vines, and flowers the size of boulders awaits.
Hundreds of creatures fill the air. Multi-colored sprites. Bees the size of my hand. Hornets with wicked looking red stingers. Butterflies whose wings carry hallucinogenic toxins.
We down the jug of water and then break into a jog. The netting keeps out the smaller creatures like the butterflies, wasps, and bees, and I use my flyswatter on the sprites. Mack points out the plants to avoid, and more than once, we have to leave a path and find another.
But with the netting and my fly swatter, it’s actually not so bad. Two hours later, just as we’re nearing the portal, a ravine appears in our path.
Mack points out a rickety wooden bridge. Unfortunately a gate bars our entrance. A sprite that looks more flower than human flits from the top of the gate and points to a wooden box.
I bend down and cautiously open the container. Five vials glint beneath the sun.
Mack hisses through her teeth. “Poison.”
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.
