My mother's eyes, Laira thought. They've always been my only beauty. His words filled her with a hint of warmth, like a fire just beginning to rise on a winter day.

Standing at her side, Jeid cleared his throat and spoke for the first time since entering the cavern. "Will you fight with us, Oritan? Will you send your beasts to battle alongside ours?"

Oritan turned his eyes toward the grizzled king, and now those eyes hardened, losing what warmth they had given Laira. "Why should Leatherwing fight the wars of others? These demons do not hunt us." He gestured at the severed tentacle. "Laira's father leads them, she said. This is a war between father and daughter, between demons and rocs. It does not concern my tribe." He sighed and shook his head. "Perhaps you are both honorable leaders and strong. But I will not help you. Leatherwing Tribe is safe within our mountain; what dangers lurk outside are not our concern. Leave this place. That is my decision."

Jeid grumbled and clenched his fists. "So you will hide here in your mountain, chieftain, as the world burns? Where is your pride, a warrior's honor?"

The chieftain snorted. "Goad me and you'll see, weredragon. I would gladly slay you."

Jeid growled and raised his fists, and Oritan reached for a spear. Laira stepped between the two before they could come to blows. She pushed Jeid back and stared up at Oritan, her chin raised.

"You will fight because you want my rocs," she said. "You remember my eyes, and I remember your words. You all but begged Zerra to wed your daughter, a pretty thing with long black locks. You spoke of a noble marriage, a merging of two tribes. No doubt you planned to slay Zerra—perhaps a knife in the back, perhaps poison in the cup—and become ruler of both pteros and rocs, a single chieftain with a great horde. Zerra saw through your trickery." She took a step closer to the throne and placed her hand on Oritan's knee. "I offer you a better deal. You will have your marriage, and you will become chieftain of two tribes." She took a deep breath, steeling herself. "I will marry you."

Jeid gave a strangled sound halfway between choking and snarling. Laira placed a hand against his chest, holding him back, and did not remove her eyes from the chieftain upon his throne.

Oritan stared back at her, his eyes hard, betraying nothing. But she knew what he was thinking. She could see it in the tension of his body, the twitch of his lips.

He pities me but he craves me. And he craves my rocs even more.

"Laira, this isn't the way," Jeid began. "I—"

She hushed him with a finger to his lips, then turned back toward Oritan. "Speak, chieftain! If I join my tribe to yours, will you fight with us against the demon host?"