"I will prove myself," Laira shouted back from atop Neiva, though the thought of him invading her again made her queasy, and pain flared in her belly. She had allowed him into her once; would hunting game today not be enough? Would he demand this price before every hunt? Bile rose in Laira's throat, but she swallowed it with a snarl.

I will prove myself the greatest hunter, and he will learn to respect me . . . to fear me.

Zerra smirked. He seemed ready to speak again when cries rose ahead from the other hunters.

"Mammoths! Mammoths upon the plains!"

Laira turned her head back forward, narrowed her eyes, and bared her teeth. She drew a stone-tipped arrow and nocked it. A herd of the great, woolly creatures raced across the plains below, making their way toward the cover of the forest. Laira spotted a dozen adults and several cubs; even the smallest was large enough to feed many men. The other hunters cried out wordlessly, nocked their own arrows, and swooped toward their prey.

"Neiva, go!" Laira shouted and dug her heels into the roc.

The dark bird, as large as a mammoth herself, shrieked, clawed the air, and began to dive.

Fur and feathers flashed.

Zerra and his roc swooped in beneath Neiva, blocking her descent.

The two rocs—a slim female and a burly male—slammed together. The beasts screeched and feathers flew.

"Zerra!" Laira shouted. In shock, she loosed her arrow. It drove down, just narrowly missing the chieftain's head.

In the space of a heartbeat, thoughts raced through her mind. There had been an accident. She had flown her roc wrong. She had proven herself a failure. No—Zerra had meant to block her! He was sabotaging her. He—

Grinning, Zerra rose higher upon his roc, and the beast's talons reached out.

Laira screamed as the talons closed around her. She drew another arrow from her quiver. Wielding it like a sword, she tried to stab Ashoor, but the fetid beast's talons pinned her arms down. She screamed. Ashoor tugged, tearing Laira off her mount, and she kicked the open air.

Riding upon the beast, Zerra leaned across the saddle and spat. The glob splattered on Laira's face. Amusement filled the chieftain's voice as he spoke.

"We will now see, little piece of pig dung, if you can truly fly. Ashoor—release!"

As Laira screamed, Ashoor tossed her into the open air.

She tumbled through the sky.

She plummeted.

"Neiva!" she cried, flailing. "Neiva!"

She could see her roc above. The bird tried to dive and catch her, but Ashoor blocked her passage. The two rocs battled in the sky.

"Zerra!" she shouted, plunging down, the wind whipping her and stealing her voice.

She looked around, her cloak fluttering madly. She could see the other rocs; they now flew too far away, diving against the mammoths below. They did not see her fall, and Laira understood.

This had been a trap.

He invited me on this hunt not because I bedded him . . . but for this.