She made the breathless climb upstairs. Gracious, it seemed to grow more difficult each day. At least the movement seemed to lull the baby into the quietude she needed to face Papa. Though the stairs were no obstacle to her, April chose not to join her. Papa’s temper wore on her, and she was in no mood to curb her urge to nip ears.

Late-morning light filtered through the frosted windows along the hall, amplified by strategically-placed mirrors to render the corridor even brighter than it would have been with normal windows to admit the sun. That same sun warmed the space, making it one of the most comfortable areas of the offices which, on the whole, leaned toward cool and dank as the colder, dragon-musk-tinged air from the basement levels filtered in through the staircases.

The Historian’s door stood ajar, but Elizabeth knocked anyway. Papa had been more than prickly since her installation in a downstairs office, with access to the dragon tunnels and a properly ornate door, in such short order. He did not like reminders that his daughter held an office in the Order especially created for her, or that her office had all the appearances of greater prestige and, dare she say, dominance, than his. Though she could understand his irritation–dragons never like reminders of their place in the order of things–that did not mean she enjoyed the reality of it. Or the tiptoeing required to keep his pride mollified, a distinctly warm-blooded practice that no cold-blooded dragon would ever bother with.

“Ah, yes, Lizzy,” Papa called, shuffling up to her, walking stick clacking on the stone floor, as he stepped out of his office to join her in the corridor. The tart edge to his voice suggested he had not drunk enough willow bark tea today. Perhaps with Sir Edward’s absence, it was being neglected. Something to ask Drew about. “I was wondering how long it would take you to put forth the effort to call upon the Historian in an official capacity. Too busy with your own official duties, I imagine?” He raised an eyebrow and stared at her, as though waiting for her to take up the bait he had thrown her. When she did not, he wrinkled his face into a disagreeable knot. “I suppose you are expecting an escort to the Archives.”

Elizabeth sucked in a deep breath and bit her tongue. He was the same Papa that he had always been. Most would consider him bordering on rude and insensitive. Even within the Order, he was regarded as one of the most draconic-tempered men. But he was who he was, and nothing was going to change.

As he was oblivious to his rudeness, one could not take it personally. Or at least they should not. So, the best alternative was to take him in small doses, rather like his willow bark tea. “Well, I am here now and hoping that you can help me locate information on sea dragons. The official library provides little insight.”

“So, you’ve been talking to Wentworth as well, have you? I expected as much. I imagine you’ve already instructed him to write some sort of record or another.”

“Yes, he will grace us with his writings—”

“Grace us?” Papa rapped his walking stick on the stone floor. “He said that? It is a privilege and a duty to add to our collection of dragon lore. How dare he—”

“Calm down, Papa, please. He is in no way arrogant. I was merely being light-hearted about a heavy subject.”

“I have taught you better than to take such matters lightly, Lizzy. Your attitude will affront the Council dragons. Make no mistake about that.”

Not yet invited into his office and he was already offended! Gracious, this temper was excessive, even for him. “When I spoke to them a few moments ago, they had nothing to say on the matter.”

“That is lucky for you. I would warn you to step lightly. It does not do to provoke dragons, you know.”

“Yes, I am well aware of that.” Or had he forgotten Longbourn and his inexcusable tantrum? Best not bring that up, though. Papa still blamed her for provoking Longbourn. “But about the sea dragons?”

“I have put Drew and Bede to work on the matter. They have pulled out all they could find and set it aside—waiting for you to come around for it.” He cast her a vaguely disapproving glare.

She bristled, pulling her shoulders back and her spine straight. She was taller than he now, and he did not like to be reminded of that. “I imagine you have already read it all?”

“It is not my only task.”

“I am certain of that; however, I am well aware of how you are when presented with the possibility of new information.”

“It did not take long to accomplish.” He sniffed and barely avoided rolling his eyes. “For your benefit, I separated it into two stacks, that which I consider useful and reliable … and the rest.”

“Hearsay, fairy stories, and drunken accounts of shadows in the dark?” She glanced down the long corridor, with its population of Blue Order portraits crowding the walls. Maybe that would encourage him to begin the journey to the Archives.

“Should I permit the information I consider reliable out of the archives, I expect you will not find it difficult to carry out on a single trip without assistance.” He edged into a diffused sunbeam. Perhaps the warmth was the reason he lingered here in the corridor.

“That is disappointing. Not unexpected, but disappointing.”

He harrumphed. “I hope Wentworth will provide considerable additions to that knowledge base.”

“How is Bede working out? I had hoped she would find herself an excellent fit for your work in the Archives.” She held her breath. Perhaps now was not the best time for that question.

“She is a remarkable specimen. I swear she is more stubborn than you. Always chasing down the most unlikely paths of research.”

“It sounds as if that would be a good thing. Is her memory as impressive as I have heard?”

“Indeed it is, which, combined with her stubbornness, makes her a formidable force in research. But often it impedes accomplishing those needful tasks, which she finds less necessary or less interesting.” He grumbled low in his throat, the way he often had with Elizabeth as a child.

Not a sound she preferred to hear. “But she has made herself useful?”

“I did not say she had not. We are growing accustomed to one another.” He tapped his walking stick again and pulled his office door shut. “Come, I will take you down to the Archives.”

It would have been easier for him to escort her to the library, on the same level as his office. Perhaps that was another source of his irritation, that she would require him to descend more than five levels of stairs and further levels of irregular tunnels to get to the Archives. At least this time, her gravid condition gave them a face-saving excuse to take the journey slowly, with many breaks to stop and catch their breath.

The deeper they descended, the narrower, steeper, and more irregular the stairs became. The air turned colder, permeated with the distinct smell of damp stone. How much longer would Papa be able to manage this trip? Maybe she should work with the minor dragons to find some alternative—perhaps a sedan chair sort of affair? Absurd as it sounded, it might prove effective.

Once they reached the courtroom level—her second time today—they followed the wall to the right, away from the dragon tunnel entrances to a rough-hewn tunnel opening blocked by a rugged wooden door that encouraged one to overlook it. Too tight for the major dragons to manage, but accommodating enough for warm-bloods and minor dragons—it was the understated entry to the Archives, arguably the most important space in the whole of the Blue Order. The rooms at the end of this tunnel contained the Order’s oldest documents, many composed in dragon script. Ancient scribes penned nearly all of them, making those written in human tongues nearly as difficult to translate as those in dragon script.

So far, the Historian’s and the Scribe’s staffs had cleared and explored three rooms in the Archives. No one yet knew how many more chambers might lurk beyond those. For now, Papa and Lady Astrid focused on cataloging the contents of the three known rooms.

Papa unlocked the door with a heavy, dragon-headed key. He pulled a candle and fire-kit from his pocket and handed them to Elizabeth. She lit the candle and handed it back to him. The tiny flame provided them barely adequate light to pass safely through the narrow tunnel, if one were careful and took their time about it. Elizabeth had little choice but to do just that, considering she followed Papa, who hardly made quick progress. Between her own state, the close, brisk passage, and the stale air, she had barely enough breath to keep up over the uneven floor.

“It does not seem there is a great deal of interest in these old Archives.” Elizabeth paused alongside him, both panting hard and leaning on the rough wall.

“No, not so much.” He dragged in several shaky breaths. “But I am not sure that is a bad thing, either.”

“Why would you say that?”

He turned so she could scarcely discern his profile in the wan light. “Knowledge is a tricky thing, Lizzy dear. Very tricky. It is neither good nor bad. Those things are a matter of what one makes out of that knowledge. And therein lies the challenge. What one may see as interesting, even helpful, another may declare dangerous, all depending on the perspective they take and the information at hand.” He tipped his head back, resting against the uneven stone wall. “That means the information we find down here is at risk of being censored or even destroyed if it goes against the assumptions, understanding, or even the desires of powerful individuals.”

A shiver coursed down her spine that had nothing to do with the surrounding chill.

“That is why I am convinced it is for the best that few come down here. It gives those of us expert at dealing with information an opportunity to clearly identify what is being said—and considering the age, and oftentimes the language documents were written in, meanings are not always as clear as we would hope. Once we clearly understand the text, we then may present it carefully, in the way it will be best appreciated and put to use. For the good of the Order.”

“That sounds dangerously like controlling the situation for political gain.” Botheration, she really needed to censor herself better.

“How dare you accuse me of such a thing! I am the Historian, not a politician. I never have been, nor will I ever be, such a creature. My goals are neutral in that regard.” He turned to face her, his breath whispering against her face. “I merely want to know as much about the truth as possible and see that information disseminated to those who need it. Our goals are the same, Lizzy, to improve the understanding between the warm- and cold-blooded for the benefit of the Order. Make no mistake about that.”

Their goals might be the same, true enough, but that did not mean—oh, so many things it did not mean. The baby kicked as if sensing her thoughts.

Papa snorted, tapped his walking stick sharply, and continued plodding through the tunnel. That he did not turn around and insist they go back suggested he believed she agreed with him.

Something she had not decided yet, but which did not bear discussion now.

He paused at the edge of a room-sized widening in the shaft that glowed with torch–or perhaps it was candle–light.

“What is she doing here?” Papa harrumphed under his breath.

“Who?” Who indeed would be so intrepid as to make their way in?

“The Scribe.”

“As I understand, Lady Astrid is jointly responsible with you for the Library and Archives. Are you surprised she is here?”

“No, not surprised.” His huff finished his sentence with “but I am annoyed with that woman in my territory.”

Papa and Longbourn had a great deal in common. Decades of being dragon and Keeper had their influence, though neither was apt to recognize it.

A tiny, bird-like woman who seemed to contain the excited energy of ten active children, Lady Astrid sat on one of a pair of simple stools at a worn, lopsided table, hunched over a half-rolled scroll. Intense study was the only thing that could restrain her to such stillness, barely breathing, moving only to inch her glasses higher up her sharp nose or further unroll the scroll.

Papa cleared his throat, and she turned toward them.

She rose and picked her way across the floor, which was laden with stone-debris-laden, toward them. “Oh, Lady Elizabeth, I am delighted you have made it here.” She swept her arms wide, gesturing to the depth and breadth of the space.

About the same size as Papa’s office and every bit as jam-packed and dusty, rough, unfinished walls held torches on either side, marking the openings to the two other known Archive rooms. No mirrors magnified the light, so flickering shadows danced along the light’s edges. Dust, ancient boxes, trunks, barrels, even a few large jars were piled haphazardly, left only a slender game trail through them. Framed paintings that faced modestly away from them lurked in the deepest shadows.

Elizabeth sneezed and rubbed her itchy nose against her sleeve. The smell of old books and documents always made her sneeze.

She had never seen a dragon’s hoard, but if Papa was a dragon, this was indeed his hoard. No wonder he resented Lady Astrid’s presence.

“Quill Driver, who should be about somewhere, can show you the sea dragon paintings we recently found. She can take you back to where we gathered the sea dragon material when you are ready. For now, you must excuse me. Bede and Drew said yesterday that they wanted to show me something.” Papa tottered away into the darkest recesses of the space.

What did it mean that he had invited her into this secretive, almost sacred territory, then was leaving her alone with Lady Astrid? Surely, there was some meaning to be attached to his action. But what?

“Do come and sit with me.” Lady Astrid led her back to the stools where she had been studying. The neat order of the nearest stack was a sure sign it was not Papa working there. None of the volumes bore titles on the spine. Bother! It would have been nice to get a sense of what Lady Astrid was researching. “Have you spoken with Sir Frederick?”

“Indeed I have, and I look forward to further conversations. He has quite the story to tell, and so much experience with sea dragons. And not only from the recent events. He and Laconia dealt with quite a few sea dragons. I do not understand why no one asked him to record his experiences before now. Unfortunately, I expect the Council will send him off to deal with other matters soon enough, so I have little time to learn from him.”

“No doubt you have asked him to record his story.” Lady Astrid knew her very well indeed.

“Of course. I suppose I am that predictable.”

Lady Astrid peered over her glasses and winked. “That is not a bad thing. I believe dragons consider it a mark of trustworthiness.”

“I will take that as a compliment.”

“If I may, I would like to discuss that project with you.” Lady Astrid chewed her lower lip. “Sir Frederick’s story is dramatic, no?”

“Very dramatic, but that does not mean it is not an important one to preserve.”

“But I wonder what more to do with it.” Lady Astrid sounded like Papa. “Word of such things has a way of getting out, no matter how one tries to keep it quiet.”

“Keep it quiet? Why on earth would anyone want to do that? His story is remarkable,” Elizabeth said. 

“Word of one of the Order being eaten by a dragon?” Could Lady Astrid’s brows climb any higher? “Noteworthy, to be certain. But I fear that the news could spread alarm, even panic, on so many fronts.”

“When you put it that way, I can see your point.” Elizabeth broke away from Lady Astrid’s piercing gaze. “You are concerned Keepers and Friends will begin to fear their own Dragon Mates because of it?”

“I hope not, but one never really knows. If not their own, though, then possibly other dragons who are less familiar to them.”

“That’s absurd!” Elizabeth tapped the table. She would rather have thumped it with a fist, but restraint was appropriate for a proper lady. “Every Blue Order member understands the Accords forbid such aggression. No Dragon Mate should ever be concerned about such a thing.”

“Really, Lady Elizabeth? Really?” Lady Astrid let the words hover in the air like an angry fairy dragon, deciding which ear to nip. “What about your experiences with Longbourn and Cornwall and Bolsover and … shall I go on? You yourself have experienced a great deal of draconic aggression, have you not?”

“Yes, but—”

“But you still have nightmares, do you not?”

“April has been telling Verona tales?”

Lady Astrid shrugged. “You know how fairy dragons are. She worries about you.”

“I am fine.”

“That is not for me to comment upon. But if you, the Dragon Sage, the one who best understands all things draconic, has nightmares from your experiences, then how might the common Keeper or Friend be affected?”

No, that was not something she wanted to dwell upon, which was why she kept much of her story to herself … oh, dear. Was she now agreeing with Papa? Merciful heavens!

“Add to that how easily those same Dragon Mates might read Chesil’s actions as aggression against the Accords….” Lady Astrid cocked her head and lifted an eyebrow.

“That is absurd. He saved Sir Frederick, not harmed him.”

“Sir Frederick was eaten by a dragon. How fortunate that he rendered that dragon dyspeptic and was cast upon the shore.”

“But that is not what happened.” Elizabeth stood, knocking the stool to the floor behind her. Unfortunately clumsy, but better that than raising her voice. “Chesil rescued him—”

“Consider the means of rescue! Worse still, consider from what Sir Frederick was spared.”

“A dragon battle in the bay,” Elizabeth whispered, clutching the edge of the table.

“Listen to what you just said. A. Dragon. Battle. No one since the Accords were penned has experienced a dragon battle. What will people think?”

“That it had nothing to do with them. Why should they be concerned? The Order was not involved.” That sounded more like a plea than a convincing argument. Maybe it was.

“So? They will instead focus on the fact that there are dragons about who are not part of the Order. And that those dragons are a threat.”

“They have been there for many warm-blooded lifetimes and have never been a threat.”

“But the Lyme battle turned against a warm-blood, did it not? It is not a far leap from that knowledge to wondering how many shipwrecks and other carnage and loss at sea might be the consequence of draconic interference.” Lady Astrid slapped the table, rocking it a little off balance.

The Lyme Bay wrecks … Sir Frederick mentioned Chesil had a fang in those. Dragon’s blood!

“For the average member of the Order, the only dragons are Order Dragons. The Accords still govern even the ‘wild dragons’ of England. They have never conceived of dragons outside the Blue Order’s reach. An idea aided and abetted by every officer of the Order, I might add. Consider how such a person would receive the news that there were other large, dangerous dragons out there, with no compunction against violence against warm-bloods?”

“It is hardly new, though. I have known about the possibility since I first became a member of the Order.” Elizabeth’s protest sounded more like an apology.

“Not to you, but you are far from the typical Dragon Friend or Keeper, are you not? We must carefully consider how to present Sir Frederick’s experiences in a light that will be most beneficial to the whole of the Order.”

“You mean rewriting his story to fit a predetermined narrative?”

“I did not say that. Surely, you must agree there are ways to present information to assist in a correct interpretation—”

“And who is to decide what that correct interpretation is to be?”