Aru started marching through the forest. The Court of the Seasons was the size of a football field, but she could see anEXITsign glowing in the distance. Even without looking back, she could sense the shocked gazes of the Seasons. She would’ve bet all her pocket money that no one had ever walked away from them.
“Aru, what’re you doing?” hissed Mini. “We need their help!”
“Yeah, but they don’t know that,” said Aru. “Bring out your compact. Conjure us some big sunglasses. And ugly hats. Things celebrities would wear.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” huffed Boo. “I don’t like groveling any more than you do, but this is no time to be proud.”
“Oh, I know what I’m doing.”
Aru knew because she’d dealt with it every day in school, that flare of not knowing where you belonged. That craving to be seen and go unnoticed at the same time.
Mini handed her a hat and sunglasses before jamming on her own pair. Even Boo got a pair of bird shades.
“These are ridiculous,” he snapped.
“We’re Pandavas,” said Aru, loudly enough for the Otherworldly spirits to hear. “We can do better than the Seasons.”
Leaves crackled behind her.
“Did you say…Pandavas?”
Mini slowed down as if she was about to turn, but Aru yanked her arm. “Let’s not waste our breath,” she said.
“Excuse me,” said Summer, stepping in front of them. Their voice, which had been blistering before, had turned warm and languid. “Maybe there’s been some mistake. Pandavas, you say? As in actual Pandavas?”
“Obviously,” said Aru, lowering her sunglasses and speaking to the air next to Summer’s face. “I thought you were designers. Aren’t you supposed to be able to tell the difference between real and fake things? We’re as real as it gets.”
Monsoon stepped beside Summer and glared at her sibling. “Iknew the whole time. Rain is cleansing, after all. It reveals the truth.”
“Liar!” shouted Spring, marching over to them.
“Ispoke to them first,” said Winter. “I suspected right away.”
“How can we help you?” asked Summer.
“Well,” Mini started, “we need armor, or weapons—” Aru nudged her.
“You can’t help us,” said Aru, waving her hand. “Could you please move? Your shadow is touching mine.”
“Oh, I am so sorry,” said Monsoon apologetically. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Whatever,” said Aru.
“We can make armor and protection! I make the best!” exclaimed Winter.
“Hmm…” said Aru. She drew out the silence just a beat longer. “Prove it.”
Winter, Summer, Spring, and Monsoon nodded as one.
“And if my friend here”—Aru jerked her chin in Mini’s direction, who merely adjusted her sunglasses—“approves, then I’ll accept your measly and puny offerings.”
Winter nodded enthusiastically. He opened his hands, and a cloak of delicate ice unraveled before Aru. With a twist of his wrist, it became a diamond bracelet. He presented it to Mini in a black velvet box. “Throw this on anything, and it will freeze an enemy in their tracks. Plus, it’s an excellent accessory. Perfectly understated. Very elegant. Timeless.”
“I have something better!” announced Spring. “You may be Pandavas, but you are children still.” Aru narrowed her eyes, and Spring hastily added, “I don’t mean that in an offensive way, of course!”
Spring spread her vine-covered arms, and a cube knitted from a thousand flowers floated in front of her. She snapped her fingers, and the cube transformed into a fancy bakery box. She opened it to reveal two little squares each covered in pink icing with a flower on top. Petit fours!
“Bites of rest and rejuvenation,” she said proudly. “That is what I am known for, after all. From winter’s slumber I create life anew. One bite and you will feel as if you have had several days of rest. Your stomach will be full, and you’ll have no bodily aches and pains. It’s good for your skin, too. Please do me the honor of eating one, Pandavas.”
