“She’s not all right,” Moon whispered to him. “Her mind is all scattered and foggy. I don’t know why.”

A talon of ice trailed down Winter’s spine as he watched his sister stagger into the gray light. Her arctic blue eyes were bloodshot, crackled with dark blue veins, and the scratches she’d gotten in the fight at Jade Mountain still hadn’t healed. She was streaked with mud and blood — not just her own dark blue blood, but splatters of dark red that must have come from the NightWing she’d killed.

Icicle’s scales had always been whiter than everyone else’s: her claws sharper, her teeth gleaming, and her spikes pristine even after clubbing a walrus to death. She plunged into the frigid ocean six times a day because she believed an IceWing who glittered like diamonds was a more menacing IceWing. In Icicle’s view of the world, grubby, dull dragons deserved to be Seventh Circle.

Winter could never have imagined her looking this wretched.

She clutched the edge of the tunnel with her front talons, leaning against the rocky wall and glaring at him.

“Icicle?” he said. “Are you —”

“Why are you here?” she spat. “To ruin yet another of my plans? You don’t feel satisfied that you’ve already guaranteed Hailstorm’s death?”

“What’s wrong with you?” Kinkajou blurted. “You look terrible.”

“Could be worse,” Icicle snarled. “I could look like you.”

“I want to help you find Hailstorm,” Winter said. “If he’s really still alive —”

“I don’t need your help, of all dragons,” Icicle said with a hiss, limping forward a step. “You don’t have the claws to do what needs to be done.” She touched her head, wiping away a trickle of blood from one of her horns. “And she’s probably killed him by now anyway.”

“What did Scarlet say?” Winter asked. He spread his wings, blocking her path. “When she found out Starflight and the others were still alive?”

“I haven’t spoken to her.” Icicle swayed a little on her feet. “I can’t — I don’t want to see her — to admit I failed — your fault — but what if she kills him in front of me — or what if he’s already dead … and she shows me his body …”

She took another staggering step and Winter reached out to catch her, but she recoiled, snapping her teeth at him.

“But how have you —” he started.

“She hasn’t slept,” Moon said wonderingly. “Not since Jade Mountain.”

“If I don’t sleep,” Icicle muttered triumphantly, “then she can’t get to me. She can’t visit my dreams if I don’t have any. Ha ha!”

“But it’s been days!” Kinkajou cried. “You haven’t slept in days? Don’t you feel awful?”

“I don’t need to sleep,” Icicle said. “Whenever I get tired, I lie down beside the lava until the pain wakes me up.” She spread her wings, and Winter saw with a shudder that she had blisters and small burns bubbling in spots across her scales.

This he could imagine, too easily: his fearless, stubborn sister angrily burning herself, slashing pain across the body that betrayed her by daring to be tired.

And he understood what she was going through, too. He’d lived with the guilt of losing Hailstorm for the last two years.

“Icicle, we need to know if she’s killed him,” he said.

“I’d wager a few camels that she hasn’t,” said Qibli. “He’s more use to her as a bargaining chip than as a corpse. Not very useful, corpses, as a rule. All right, shutting up now,” he added, catching the look Moon was shooting him.

“Do you have any idea where she is?” Winter asked Icicle. “If we can get to her and find him —”

“If it were that easy, I’d have done it,” Icicle snapped. “I’ve considered all the options, trust me. There’s only one way to save him, and that’s killing the RainWing queen.”

“I’m not going to let you kill Queen Glory,” Kinkajou said stoutly.

Icicle barked a ragged laugh. “And how are you going to stop me, you preposterous pink dragon?”

Kinkajou lunged at Icicle, flying past Winter in a red-and-orange blur before he realized what was happening. The little RainWing knocked Icicle over onto her back and wrapped her talons around the IceWing’s throat.

“Nobody threatens my queen!” Kinkajou shouted.

“Hey!” Winter shouted.

“Get off me!” Icicle raged. She swung her tail at Kinkajou’s wings but missed. Her vicious claws went up, the serrated edges glittering dangerously, ready for a killing blow at Kinkajou’s underbelly.

“Kinkajou!” Moon cried, jumping toward them.

But before she could reach them, before Icicle could strike, before Winter could do anything, something small came whistling through the air and thunked into Icicle’s neck.

Icicle let out a gasp and jerked back. Kinkajou jumped off of her with a yelp and looked up at the sky.

Winter followed her gaze to the clouds and then watched as the gray melted and shifted, like dragonets bursting out of the snow, into nine dragons in shades of red and gold and green.

“Icicle of the IceWings,” Queen Glory announced, “you are under arrest for murder and attempted murder.”

“No!” Icicle roared, clawing at her neck. She rolled over and shoved herself upright, but her legs wobbled and her head was starting to droop. “What have you done to me? What is happening?”

“It’s only a tranquilizer dart,” said Deathbringer, winging down to land beside them. “We find it makes transporting prisoners much simpler. You’ll wake up just fine in a few hours.”

“No!” Icicle shrieked. “I can’t sleep! Don’t make me sleep!” She hurled herself at Winter, dug her claws into his shoulders, and shook him with all her fading strength. “Winter, stop them — help me — tell them I can’t — she’ll find me! She’ll tell me he’s dead and then it’ll be over and he’ll be gone! Winter, keep me awake!”

“It’s too late,” Deathbringer said, studying her with a puzzled expression. “It’s not that bad, the dart sleep.”

Icicle slowly collapsed forward onto Winter, her talons clenching open and closed as if she was trying to claw herself back to waking. “She’ll come for me,” Icicle whispered.

“So let her come,” Winter said. He crouched as his sister’s weight pressed him down, bringing his mouth close to her ear. “Go ahead and sleep, Icicle. You can’t stay awake forever anyway. Talk to Scarlet and tell her she can still get what she wants.”

“But she can’t.” Icicle’s voice was barely a mumble now. “I’ll be — prison —”

Winter glanced up at the faces around them. Nobody could hear what he and Icicle were whispering to each other. Not unless they could read minds.

Well, this was one way to find out if the skyfire really worked.

He leaned closer to Icicle, close enough for the skyfire pouch to touch her scales as well as his own. And then, as his sister’s eyes closed, he whispered, “Tell Scarlet if she can prove that Hailstorm is still alive … I’ll kill Glory for her myself.”