The wind screamed outside, and the lilting cry of a wolf joined it. Blue Shark ignored them both, busy scraping hides in the dim light of the keep.

     Up, down, across.

     Up, down, across.

     She ran her claws over the smooth surface of the underside and sighed in relief. That was the last one. She had been working all morning, trimming caribou hides and cleaning them for tanning. Finally it was over, and she could sprawl out on the furs on the floor of the great hall and sleep in the warmth of the fire.

     She had chosen to work of her own volition. It had been almost four weeks since her arrival at the castle and she could now limp about on three legs fairly well. She decided to start repaying her debt in any way she could, sweeping, organizing herbs in the infirmary, or any small jobs she could perform with one operable talon. Sosna usually refused to let her work, pressing her to rest and take it easy, but eventually he relented under her determination to help. He had said that she could clean hides with one talon, so she joined him in the keep, where he sat tying the scraped deerskins onto frames to tan.

     It had been a horrid, cold, wet sort of day, the kind that would have made one absolutely wretched if one had been out in it for very long. But Coll's Keep was warm, and she had been quite comfortable for the first few hours. Then her foreleg began to ache, then her neck began to ache, and eventually she regretted leaving the infirmary at all that morning. Sosna did not make the time pass more easily, as he usually did with humorous remarks and polite discussions of Pyrrhian affairs. To be fair, she usually began those talks; otherwise he would probably never say anything at all. But he seemed perfectly willing to speak once she had started it. There was also occasionally storytelling or singing, but that was rarer. Blue enjoyed resting in the firelight of the great hall in the evenings and listening to him—he had a fine voice, and knew many beautiful songs and ballads.

     Today, however, he worked in silence, bundling furs and stretching pelts. She had attempted to initiate a conversation once or twice, but he seemed particularly quiet, almost morose, today and his responses were monosyllabic. He seemed to be awaiting something, and the tip of his tail twitched nervously as he ran a leather thong through the edge of the hide and fastened it to the frame. It was intriguing—she had never seen him so unsettled.

     Balling up her finished deerskin with her left talon, she threw it across the room to where Sosna sat. "That's the last one," she said, and hastily exited the keep before he could say anything.

     Rest at last. And that stolid pinecone can't make me get up to finish the ones I shoved under the table. I'll sleep till next morning—at least, I feel like I can.

     She stretched luxuriously and yawned, shivering with delight at the warmth of the fire. Turning in three circles, she let her hindquarters drop to the rug, then eased down her front. She stretched again, extending all three legs out stiff in front of her and arching her neck, then let them relax, curling her tail over her flank with a contented sigh.

     As she lay her head upon her foretalons, there was a resounding crash against the outer door, followed quickly by another. She started up into a half-crouch, glancing toward the keep to see if Sosna had heard. Who or what was that?

     The IceWing was evidently aware of his visitor. There was a low snarl and she saw a tanning frame fly across the keep doorway and hit the wall opposite with immense force and shattered, splinters rattling on the floor.

     There was another thud on the great door, and Blue sat up apprehensively, curling her tail over her talons.

     Sosna swept out of the keep a heartbeat later, his gait stiff and his wings pulled tight against his sides. She thought she saw anger and dread in his eyes before he masked it and marched past, ignoring her. He removed the bar and hesitated for a fraction of a second before pulling it open and stepping back.

     A gust of wind and snow whirled in, and she wrapped her wings about her with a shiver. Silhouetted in the doorway was a hulking frame, its wings flared. The stranger folded them and entered; long, serrated talons scraping on the stone with a sound that set Blue's teeth on edge.

     It was a male IceWing, about Sosna's height and dusted with snow.

     He was powerfully built and held his grey head high, and there was a dark, crafty look in his eye as though he were planning something unpleasant. So this was who Sosna had been dreading all day.

     He shook his head violently to rid it of the rapidly-melting snow, and the pale spines on the nape of his neck clattered together like brittle icicles.

     Sosna stared at him darkly. Despite his efforts to keep his face devoid of emotion, they still showed in his posture, in the glint of his eyes, in the tilt of his head.

     The stranger's gaze settled on Blue.

     "And who might this be, Sosna?" he asked. His voice was deep and husky, and sent tingles of strange unease down Blue's spine.

     I wish I went into the infirmary when he knocked. Smashed, rather. He sounds... scornful. Why is Sosna so restless?

     "This is Squidge," said Sosna in short, clipped tones. There was no humor in his voice, and Blue felt her face burning. Why hadn't she just told him her name? In the passing weeks she had forgotten, almost getting used to his nickname for her. But she refrained from correcting him—doing so would only be unpleasant for them both. It was her fault that he genuinely didn't know, and she could bear it.

     "She is traveling," he continued, "and has been staying here while her leg heals. Squidge, this is my father, Mathadeigh."

     Sosna's voice sounded forced, almost unnatural, but the stranger seemed not to notice.

     His father.

     "Squidge," Mathadeigh said slowly, as if he were tasting and judging the word like new wine. She forced a smile.

     "Where do you hail from, Squidge?"

     "I come from Lamprey Cove in the Kingdom of the Sea," Blue replied, making an effort to keep a tremor out of her voice. She was not afraid, but the way he looked at her made her insides twist.

     "That is a long way away," he rumbled, looking at her narrowly. "Nearly at the opposite end of the continent, in fact. Did you come here to pay my errant son a visit?"

     Blue threw Sosna a quick glance, but he was not looking at her.

     "No," she said with a light, nervous laugh, unsure of herself. "I was visiting a friend who lives on an island farther down the coast. I met Sosna quite by accident, when I was caught in a gale and broke my leg." She lifted it slightly to display the sling.

     "Ocean storms are not prone to breaking legs, last I heard," said Mathadeigh.

     "They are when they fling you against a sea-stack," Blue replied, somewhat testily. She did not like the way he seemed to be interrogating her.

     "Ah."

     He gave her a long, appraising look, his eyes boring into her, then swung his head around to the younger dragon with a sudden snakelike movement.

     Blue saw Sosna flinch almost imperceptibly. He stared straight ahead, somewhere in the region of Mathadeigh's snout, not quite meeting his eyes. His own were frighteningly blank, empty brown pools with dilated pupils.

     "'While her leg heals'. While you heal her leg, I presume you meant?" Mathadeigh asked. There was no response.

     "You always did have a soft spot for weak dragons, Sosna. A good IceWing would have thrown her out. Otherdragons don't belong in this kingdom!"

     His voice had grown to a snarl, but now he lowered it and it took on an almost hissing quality. He thrust his face toward his son and snorted. "Look what this noble old castle's come to," he said scathingly. "A shelter for sick dragons and a hiding hole for a caitiff. Useless, I tell you. It's your mother's blood running in your veins. No, not blood. Water. If only you'd been more like your brother."

     Sosna's face twitched as though he were going to bare his teeth. His father's face was mere inches from his own, and Blue wished he would bite off the big IceWing's nose.

     "This is not what you came for," he said quietly, but his voice was strained. "Take what you have claimed, and get out."

     The corners of Mathadeigh's mouth twitched upward into a small smile, and he pulled his head back. His face wore the satisfied expression of fox who has just raided the henhouse as he stalked past, and turned down a hall that led to the inner ward. Sosna followed.

     Blue watched them go in silence, then let out a long breath.

     That horrid dragon was Sosna's father?

     She felt anger, bubbling, biting anger—and sorrow. She knew how it felt to be scorned, to be belittled at every chance. Her heart ached, yet there was nothing she could do.

     I am sorry he is this way, Sosna, she thought. I wish I could help.

     With a sigh, Blue slipped across the hall and into the infirmary, curling into a ball on the bed and tiredly covering herself with one wing. Her short encounter with Mathadeigh had strangely drained her already exhausted body. Something about him made her feel tense and on edge, as though she were bracing for an impact that would never come.

     The roar of the fire lulled her into a restless sleep, and her dreams were haunted by dragons of ice and laughing shadows.

                       •   •   •

     She awoke some time later, roused by the boom of the door slamming shut. Groggily she slid from the bed, folding her wings loosely over her back, and limped out into the great hall.

     Sosna was standing before the door, facing away from her with his talon still on the wrought-iron handle. His wings drooped slightly, and he seemed fatigued. Perhaps he was lost in thought, or maybe he knew she was there and simply didn't want to talk to her. Blue understood. She took a step backwards, and the audible effort of the movement made his ears prick. He slid the bar into place and swiveled around, appearing to notice her for the first time.

     In the low light, the dark scales around his eyes gave him a tired, brooding look. He exhaled and glanced away almost guiltily, as if he didn't want to meet her eyes. She could guess the reason for his hesitation.

     "Sosna," she said in a half-whisper. "It's alright. You... you should get some rest."

     He lifted his gaze to hers, surprised, and halted for a moment before speaking. "I'm sorry. I should have warned you. I'd thought you went to the infirmary, but then you were out there and he was quite impatient already, and..."

     His voice trailed off into silence, and Blue realized that he had not meant for Mathadeigh to know that she was there at all. She did not know whether the thought made her feel better or worse. He had wanted to protect her, but his failure had meant more disgrace for him.

     "There's nothing to forgive," Blue said. "You couldn't have known. And it's not your fault he's so—"

     She cut off abruptly. She had been going to say something like 'so horrible', but didn't know whether it would be tactful to bring up such a thing now, if ever.

     But Sosna laughed. Bitterness was laced through the sound, smoky and sour. "So hateful? Disagreeable? Loathsome? Yes, I have a very pleasant father."

     Blue's brow furrowed, and pity for this frightened, angry dragon filled her. The stories of his could not be pleasant ones, and she sensed the figure of his father lurking in the corners of the pages, between the darkly inked lines. His laughter was a mask, a song fading to twisted dirges behind the curtain.

     "You'll feel better after a good rest," she said quietly. Sosna lowered his eyes and sighed, pulling his black wings tight around himself. There was a moment of silence as he stared at the floor, then he lifted his head and started toward the keep. "I suppose so. Good night, Squidge."

     She let out a breath, hoping her face didn't betray her embarrassment. "Blue," she said. "My real name is Blue Shark."

     He paused, and cast a thoughtful look back at her. She smiled awkwardly, and suddenly he returned it—a soft, tired, real smile that lifted the corners of his eyes. She had never seen him do so before, and it caught her by surprise.

     "Good night, Blue."