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. “I knew the whole time. Rain is cleansing, after all. It reveals the truth.”

“Liar!” shouted Spring, marching over to them.

“I spoke 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.”

Curious, Aru took one of the cakes and popped the whole thing in her mouth. Instantly, her feet stopped hurting. She felt as if she’d just woken up from the best nap ever and still had a whole lot of afternoon left before dinner. It tasted delicate and floral, like one of those expensive rose-flavored cakes her mom brought back from her Paris trips. Way better than an Oreo. Mini ate hers, too, and a moment later looked like she was glowing.

“Well?” asked Spring expectantly.

“They’re…edible,” said Aru, taking the bakery box. “They will do.”

Monsoon cast a waterfall in front of them, then whispered a few words that shrank the waterfall into a gray pendant. Monsoon presented it to Aru.

“This is my gift to you, Pandava. Just as water can go anywhere and reach anything, this pendant, when thrown, will be able to hit any target, no matter how far away. But be warned: regret will always follow. It is the price of aiming true. For sometimes, when we take the deadliest aim, we are nothing if not reckless.”

Aru didn’t think it was fair that only her magical item came with strings attached, but it wasn’t like she was in a position to refuse it. The necklace floated from Monsoon’s hands and gently encircled Aru’s neck. It was cold and a little damp against her skin.

Summer bowed before Mini. “Pandava, please accept our offering as well,” they said.

The air shimmered. Thin flames erupted from the ground. They spiraled into coils and then braided themselves, forming the prettiest headband Aru had ever seen. It looked like it was made of beaten gold, complete with delicate roses and a glittering butterfly whose wings reminded Aru of stained glass.

“My season is one of lazy heat and forgetfulness ripening under a burning sun,” said Summer theatrically. “Forget can be a powerful tool for distracting an adversary. It can leave them feeling scorched and barren. Whoever wears this will forget something important.”

“But, um, can—” Mini stammered as she stared yearningly at the headband.

“A Pandava may wear it without fear.”

Mini nodded slowly, and Aru thought she could see a neon sign flashing above Mini’s head that said MINE! IT’S ALL MINE! MWAHAHAHA.

The headband was nice and all, but Aru wouldn’t be caught dead wearing one. Headbands made her chin-length hair fan out weirdly around her face so that she ended up looking like a frilled-neck lizard.