Part VII: Nothing to Worry About

"Did you hear...?"

"Finally!"

"It's about time..."

"Oh, I hope she's okay..."

The Rainforest buzzed with excitement. Their queen had returned!

The sun shined bright and the trees sang with chattering masses of birds. All the world seemed to have grown colorful and loud in celebration. Even the infamously unpredictable summer rain had held off for now. Everything was set for Glory's address to the tribe.

Jambu stood right on the platform with the rest of Glory's guards. It was a bit eerie for him to see her armed guards back in action. For the past few years, Glory had travelled with only two or three. Standing with the full set of ten guards (with an extra three hidden by camouflage scales), Jambu was reminded of the darker days, when attacks had been frequent and deadly. Back when the rainforest had first been united, when the tension between tribes had turned to real hatred and violence.

At the height of the hatred, in the first year of Glory's reign, it had seemed like the violence would never end. NightWings and RainWings alike were killed. Glory spoke at each funeral, every one. And Jambu, along with those trusty guards, always stood at her side.

That certainly wasn't fun, Jambu recalled. Thank goodness things have calmed down since then. In those days, it had been hard to keep his scales bright.

But today, Jambu wore a genuine grin. He was excited to see his sister back up and bossing the tribe around, and he had never been one to dwell on dark memories. Especially in times like this, he had to look on the bright side.

His joy was only slightly tempered by the chill between himself and Hailstorm. He caught himself scanning the crowd for the glitter of IceWing scales. Snap out of it! he told himself, making sure his scales were still bright and chipper.

Glory appeared in a flash of royal blue and regal purple, skillfully shifting from camouflage to bright colors. She sure had come a long way since the days when Jambu had to give her color-changing lessons! She wore a triple crown of flowers and a garland of lilies, each color and flower arranged to help her appear all the more healthy and powerful.

"Good morning, everyone!" Glory said, raising her flower-laden head high. "Good morning!"

Jambu let his mind wander as Glory went on with her speech. He had heard her rehearsing it many times already, so he practically knew it by heart. Blah blah blah, back in good health, blah blah blah, making progress with the peace. Though Glory sometimes improvised, this speech was so important to her that he knew she would not add another word.

Just as they had planned, Glory announced that she had recovered from her recent bout of food poisoning. She had other news as well, all carefully crafted to promote the peace.

"In answer to the NightWing petitions, we will be retrying several prisoners," Glory said. Cheers of approval rose from about half of the crowd. "And," she added, with a painfully stiff smile, "in answer to the recent RainWing petition, we are planting a new guava grove!"

Now everyone cheered. Maybe guava tarts would save their tribes in the end.

Jambu spotted Deathbringer lurking in the shadows, directing the rest of the guards with silent signals. Deathbringer himself had decided it was best not to stand beside Glory today. For all of their talk about unity and peace, Glory and Deathbringer were also realists. They knew their relationship was still a divisive issue for the tribe.

How horrible, thought Jambu, to have to hide their love from the world. It's just wrong!

The sooner they solved this mystery, the better. Jambu couldn't stand seeing Glory and Deathbringer forced apart, especially now, when they should have been planning for a wedding and nestful of eggs.

Despite his worries, Jambu smiled out at the crowd, letting their sunny enthusiasm drown out his troubles. The sight of his cheering friends filled him with fresh hope.

Fatespeaker had already left for Sanctuary, which was probably for the best. Her interviews with suspicious NightWings like Mastermind had put her onto Deathbringer's suspect list. Once we catch the assassin, Jambu thought hopefully, and this all simmers down, I'll make sure Deathbringer sends her a nice apology card.

He caught a glimpse of an icy shimmer and tried not to stare. Then he stared. To Jambu's dismay, it was Hailstorm, standing with Greatness and her friends near the back the crowd. The IceWing was back to his usual chilly expression. None of those slight smiles that Jambu had come to love. When he spotted Jambu, his blue eyes widened for a moment. Then he looked away, cold and unreadable as ever.

Jambu bit back a groan of frustration. Sweet suns, I've screwed it all up again.

Last week, after waking up with a massive hangover and a queasy sense of regret, he had quickly realized his mistake. He thought back to Fatespeaker's advice. Take things slow. Don't rush into it. Now Jambu cursed himself to the sun and back. So of course I had to drag Hailstorm to a party and douse him in juice and scream I LOVE YOU. Of course!

"And so," Glory finished up, "please remember, there's nothing to worry about!" Her own voice betrayed her as it wavered, still weak from the poisoning. But she kept her head up, her colorful frills flared defiantly. "We're stronger than ever. United and hopeful, let's keep on flying! We can do this together!"

In a theatrical flourish, which Jambu himself had suggested, Glory and her trusted guards, RainWings and NightWings alike, took to the sky and flew circles over the crowd. A victory lap to prove just how much they trusted their tribe.

The whole Rainforest cheered in response. Flowers were tossed, and wings flashed with bright colors. Some NightWings breathed blasts of approving fire. A sweet gesture, though it sent several dragons scrambling to stomp out their accidental flames.

Jambu smiled along with the rest of the crowd, but inside, he was still distracted, secretly searching the celebration for that familiar icy shimmer. I need to set things right, he thought. He cheered on for his sister and his tribe, hiding his regret with a sunny smile.

Once Glory's official banquet had ended, Jambu flew straight for Fatespeaker's hut. It had just begun to drizzle, and Hailstorm always retreated there when it rained.

Jambu was still a bit perplexed by this. Who doesn't love rain? It's free water, right out of the sky!

He brought along a bouquet of plumerias, since Hailstorm seemed fond of the flowers. It was quite a feat to yank off the stiff twigs of the plumeria plants. Jambu hoped that Hailstorm would appreciate the effort. He added a lucky red hibiscus, too, as a final touch.

The RainWings thought nothing of bursting into each other's huts with playful surprises, but apparently this was not the norm in other tribes. Hailstorm had looked like he was on the verge of a heart attack, that first time Jambu pulled a surprise entrance on him.

So now Jambu perched outside, knocking on the thin wall of the hut. "Helloooo?" he called. "Hailstorm?"

"Good morning, Jambu." Hailstorm opened the curtain and nodded curtly.

Despite the chill that had settled between them, Jambu noticed that Hailstorm still wore Jambu's gifted dart-gun around his neck. Jambu took that as a good sign.

"Hailstorm!" Jambu pressed his bouquet into Hailstorm's talons. "I'm so sorry about what happened last week." He stifled a rueful laugh. "I know I'm a real party animal."

Hailstorm's gaze remained close and guarded. Clearly, there were deeper issues here than Jambu's embarrassing dance moves. But for all his charm and intuition, Jambu couldn't figure out what was troubling the IceWing so much.

"My deepest apologies," Hailstorm said stiffly, "for leaving so abruptly." He gave Jambu a polite bow, and welcomed him inside with a formal sweep of his wing.

Fatespeaker had only been gone for a few days, but in that short time, Hailstorm had really made the hut his own.

That is to say, he had mercilessly cleaned it up. All of Fatespeaker's knickknacks and scattered scrolls had been stashed away in neat shelves, and for the first time in years, the thatched roof had been patched. Hailstorm had even rolled up the colorful rugs and replaced them with plain, practical coconut-weave mats. With a few banners and ice sculptures, the place could pass as an IceWing embassy.

"Wow," said Jambu, looking around, "I'm, uh, I'm sure Fatespeaker will be really grateful when she gets back."

"Oh, I'm just getting started," Hailstorm said, eyeing Fatespeaker's sloppy side-panelling and unkempt garden with a vengeance.

They made awkward small talk. Jambu quickly realized that Hailstorm's taste in decor was the polar opposite of his own. And, as a RainWing, Jambu had some particularly strong opinions on floral arrangements. So when they started talking politics, he was actually relieved.

"That speech sure was something, huh?" Jambu prompted,

"Something," Hailstorm agreed. A bitter edge entered his voice. Jambu was reminded, with a chilly twist, that his blue-eyed crush was also a revolutionary outlaw.

Ironically, Jambu found that he preferred this brutal honesty. He was a RainWing, after all, raised with an open heart. "What do you mean?" he asked calmly.

"She lied," Hailstorm said bitterly. "To all of us. It's all just an illusion, isn't it? The perfect peace. It's a lie. There are killers on the loose, and NightWings everywhere growling of treason, and Queen Glory only speaks of guava groves." The sharp edge of his snout tightened. "I'm tired of it. How can we keep pretending?"

Jambu said nothing.

"I came here thinking there would be a better way," Hailstorm went on. "I thought... I hoped, against all odds, that you'd figured out a way to make monarchy work." Hailstorm stopped, his tail coiling tightly. "But there is no way, is there? Dragons are still fighting here. Dragons are still dying. You're all just pretending, just like my tribe."

Jambu still didn't respond, and Hailstorm still wouldn't meet his gaze.

"I know my kingdom is no better," Hailstorm growled. "Oh, I know it's ten times worse." He sighed. "I'm just tired. That's all."

Jambu's patriotic pride flared, but he kept his cool, staying peachy pink. Little did Hailstorm know, but Jambu had once been part of Glory's tribal peace committee. Ironically, it had not been a very peaceful job. This was not the first time he had investigated NightWing terrorism. Last time, there had been bodies.

The petty side of him could have whipped out those stories, or called Hailstorm a cynical snob, or just stormed off in a magenta rage. But Jambu knew none of that would do any good. Hailstorm had just given him the honest truth, and Jambu owed him honesty in return.

"Hey," he said. "I know I seem like a..." Jambu laughed, a bit bitterly this time. "Another flashy, feather-headed RainWing. I guess I am. But I've fought for this tribe, too. Believe it or not." He sighed, letting his scales cool to a dusty orange hue. "I know what we're up against."

Hailstorm looked a bit taken aback now, and Jambu couldn't blame him. Jambu never spoke of his troubles, after all. He always chose to look on the bright side, but that didn't mean that he hadn't seen darkness.

"Look," Jambu went on, "I know Glory doesn't think I'm very smart, and Deathbringer doesn't see me as a real warrior. And half the jungle sees me as a joke."

Hailstorm studied him, quiet as ever. The IceWing's expression was a careful practice in poise. Meanwhile, Jambu's scales swirled with every emotion in his heart.

"Believe me," Jambu said, "I know." He shrugged his wings. "Maybe I thought I could prove myself, if I solved this mystery. Maybe that's prideful of me. But I know what I've gotten myself into here. I'm just doing my best to help."

Living in the bright, loud, open world of the rainforest, Jambu had never thought of himself as hiding away. He certainly wasn't a wallflower. But there were times when he, too, had to wear a mask, keeping up his sunny smiles for the sake of all his friends. Hailstorm came from an entirely different world, but maybe he could still understand that. For the sake of their newfound romance, Jambu hoped so.

"I'm sorry," said Hailstorm. "I misjudged you. I misjudge most dragons." His smiled feebly. "That's the IceWing way."

They shared an uneasy smile, and Jambu's heart leapt with hope.

"By the way..." Jambu started, sidling closer, "I may have found us another clue."

Hailstorm blinked. "Another clue?"

Jambu flashed a sunny grin. "Deathbringer found traces of poison in Glory's breakfast banana," he said, a bit impolitely excited over the new clue. "The assassin tried to strike again. Luckily, she always dines with her guards, and Deathbringer has a freakishly good sense of smell." He held back a snicker. "It's a really kind of creepy... Anyway, no one's been able to identify the poison. Not even Fruit Bat's team of nerds! But if we can figure out the source..."

"We'll have a real lead," finished Hailstorm.

"I snuck a peek at Deathbringer's suspect list, too," Jambu added mischievously. "You're not on it anymore! Well, not in the top ten. He's narrowed it down to a few criminal NightWings. We could be getting close!"

Hailstorm nodded. "That is a great relief." Hope seemed to flicker in his cold eyes.

A little hope can go a long way, thought Jambu. Even false hope. Maybe that was where he and Hailstorm differed. Hailstorm only saw the falsehood. Jambu focused on the hope.

"Hey." He nudged Hailstorm's wing with his own. "Let's check out that new lead!"

Hailstorm nodded, quiet and reserved as ever. "Do you really think this will work?" he asked.

"There are odder couples than us," Jambu said, smiling. "Just look at Glory and Deathbringer!"

Hailstorm's wings blushed blue. "I meant the investigation."

"Oh." Jambu snorted. "Of course!" He shifted his scales to a confident shade of magenta. "We're the two best sleuths in this kingdom, after all."

"Here's our culprit," Jambu growled dramatically, "the poison banana."

"Ice and snow," grumbled Hailstorm, "it's gone all slimy."

Jambu's precious clue had turned to a pile of mush in the humid rainforest heat. He really wasn't surprised; he'd watched many a delicious fruit basket turn into overripe goo right before his eyes. Hailstorm seemed a bit shocked by it. Perhaps in the freezing Ice Kingdom, dragons didn't have to worry about their food spoiling so quickly.

"Pineapple actually likes them that way," said Jambu, recalling one of many reasons why he had broken off with that ex.

Hailstorm wrinkled his snout, muttering, "Three moons."

"It's an acquired taste," Jambu reasoned. "I wouldn't knock it till you've tried it."

"No, it's not that..." Hailstorm paused. "It's the scent..." He drew back, as if steeling his nerves, then went in for another whiff.

Jambu hypocritically cringed. Never mind, I don't think I'll try it.

To Jambu's surprise, Hailstorm went rigid.

"What is it?" asked Jambu, fearing that the poison might have rubbed off on him.

"I..." Hailstorm's brow furrowed. "I recognize it." He started to pace, his crest flared with frustration. "It's some sort of plant, I'm sure of it. I know that scent."

"You do?" Jambu's scales shifted to a muddled shade of green. How does Hailstorm know a plant that even Fruit Bat can't identify?

Hailstorm turned back to Jambu, his expression aghast. "Please," he said, "don't tell the queen that I know of this. If she thinks I was involved -"

Jambu nodded. "I see." With Deathbringer so on edge, and Glory so desperate to keep the Rainforest at peace, they would both be terribly tempted to pin the whole case on Hailstorm. He was the perfect scapegoat, after all. A suspicious foreigner with no ties to any of the discontented Rainforest groups.

As much as Jambu loved his sister, he also knew that she could be ruthless. Especially with her partner and kingdom on the line.

"We'll figure this out," Jambu said. Now he paced, too, his scales shifting as his thoughts swam. "Are you sure you don't remember the plant? Where did you run into it?"

Hailstorm shrank back. "I don't recall."

"How do you not -" Jambu stopped and bit back a sigh. "Well, just keep thinking on it."

"Somewhere in the Sky Kingdom, most likely," Hailstorm muttered. He had pressed his talons to his snout, as if he had a terrible headache.

Jambu hurried over. "Are you all right?"

Hailstorm nodded, brushing him off stiffly.

"Maybe we should head out to the Sky Kingdom ourselves," Jambu suggested. "After that mad scientist's trial." The NightWing retrials would likely begin with Mastermind, one of the most controversial prisoners, and Jambu knew he'd have to be there to help maintain the peace.

A strange, panicked took entered Hailstorm's eyes, but he said nothing.

"Or not," Jambu quickly added. "I never cared for SkyWing kebabs, anyway."

Hailstorm paused. "Did you say scientist?"

"Yeah," replied Jambu. "A real nasty, nutty one!"

"Even so," Hailstorm went on, coldly practical as ever. "If he knows anything about plants and poison..."

Jambu turned murky purple. "Hmm."

Mastermind was infamous for his complicity in the Night Kingdom's crimes, but he was also infamously smart. During his first trial, he'd tried to lecture his own jury about some arcane magic called plate tectonics. But would Glory allow Jambu to interview such a controversial prisoner?

"It's worth a shot," Jambu decided wearily. Let's just pray to the moons that Glory doesn't find out.

They headed to the waterfalls to catch a bit of rest.

There, the peaceful lull of the Rainforest hummed around them. The waterfalls splashed on, and bright wings fluttered overhead. A light mist shimmered across the living rainbow of forest.

Jambu was glad to finally relax. Lately, he'd been skipping far too many naps. An old RainWing suspicion said that if you didn't catch enough sleep, your scales would fall right off. Jambu wasn't sure if he believed that, but it was better safe than sorry.

Hailstorm was in a quiet, pensive mood, too. "How do you do it?" he asked Jambu, very softly.

Jambu looked over at him, perplexed.

"Earlier," Hailstorm went on, "when I was upset with you, and you just... opened yourself. Opened your heart. How do you do it? How do you work up the nerve?"

"Oh." Jambu shrugged. "I... I'm not really sure." Another culture clash, he thought uneasily. As a RainWing, Jambu was more perplexed by the fact that Hailstorm never opened his heart. At first, he had figured that the IceWing didn't trust him. Now he wondered if Hailstorm trusted anyone at all. "I guess it's a RainWing thing. We always talk about our feelings. Like sunbathing! Everyone does it."

"Well," muttered Hailstorm, "it seems quite courageous to me."

"Hey!" Jambu grinned. "You're the one who flew across Pyrrhia to get here!" He poked Hailstorm with his tail. "So I say you deserve to be as grumpy as you want."

Hailstorm let out of his rare, quiet laughs. "Believe it or not," he said, "my family always said I was the cheeriest one."

Jambu laughed. After meeting Winter a couple years ago, he could believe it. Thank goodness I only met Icicle while she was knocked out!

"I feel like I've failed them," Hailstorm mumbled. His speech was usually crisp and articulate, the exact opposite of Jambu's quick RainWing accent. Now he grew quiet and withdrawn.

Jambu waited, letting him think his words through. Now he understood that Hailstorm had to work up the nerve whenever he spoke of these things.

"Winter and Icicle," Hailstorm went on, "my brother and sister, they both look up to me, in a way. It's a bit strange, since they loathe each other." He shook his head and laughed weakly. "Regardless, I had to set an example. I had to hold that family together."

Jambu could almost understand now. He felt his own sense of brotherly responsibility to Glory. She often depended on his advice, since he knew far more than her about the Rainforest. When he made mistakes, he felt the weight of his duty. And now, he thought soberly, with an assassin running around, a mistake could get her killed.

"Gotta hold everything together," muttered Jambu. He thought of all the division that haunted his own tribe. "Yeah. I get that."

Hailstorm nodded. "I could never let them down," he said. "I had to be the perfect IceWing. I could never show weakness, not ever." He smiled coldly. "Let alone what I, ah, what I felt about other dragons," he added, proper as ever.

"You always knew?" Jambu asked.

"Yes," said Hailstorm. "I was always afraid."

Jambu thought of Glory again, and how the recent divisions had forced her and Deathbringer apart. Perhaps she could have understood a bit of the fear and shame that Hailstorm felt, but Jambu couldn't. It stung Jambu, like a poison dart to his heart, to know that Hailstorm had been raised to hate himself.

"You must know by now," Hailstorm sighed, "that it's not easy for me. It's never going to be easy." He paused. "So I must warn you," he continued, "I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to love."

Is that some kind of innuendo? Jambu wondered, almost hopefully. Then he saw the grief in Hailstorm's eyes, and realized that he meant it.

A cool breeze passed between them. Hailstorm's perpetual chill.

"Ice and snow," Hailstorm cursed. "I'm hardly even an IceWing."

"Why?" asked Jambu.

"I was captured," Hailstorm said. "In the war. In the Sky Kingdom. Three moons, I was such an idiot. I nearly got my brother killed, too." He paused. "Then I was... cursed. Yes, I suppose that's the word. An animus enchanted me, and for years and years, I was another dragon. A shell of a dragon. Without thought or will or... or anything inside it." He stopped again. "I fear it broke my mind. I fear it ruined me."

"No," said Jambu. "No, that's not true."

Hailstorm didn't seem to hear him.

An empty look washed over Hailstorm's blue eyes. It reminded Jambu of the former RainWing prisoners, the ones that he and Glory had fought to free from the NightWing fortress. Most of those dragons had gone on to lead full, happy lives after their rescue, but something about their eyes remained forever changed. Hollow and haunted.

"Worst of all, I miss it sometimes," Hailstorm muttered, colder than ever. "It was easier when I didn't feel anything. When I was a brainwashed ghost of a dragon." His tail coiled and uncoiled as he stared off at nothing. "Now I'm real and whole again. And I hate it."

Jambu had no idea what to say. There was nothing he could say. He was out of his depth here. As optimistic as Jambu was, he was no feather-head. He knew that no joke or song or charming smile could fix the deep sorrow in Hailstorm's eyes. Only time, he thought, and peace and patience.

So Jambu fell silent, letting his scales swirl with confusion. He noticed Hailstorm's twitching tail. Still coiling and uncoiling with nerves. Slowly and quietly, Jambu wound his own tail around Hailstorm's. The IceWing didn't seem to mind.

Then they sat for a while, saying nothing. And, at least in Jambu's head, they seemed reach a fleeting place of peace.