THE LAW OF THE SILVER EYEThe morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and the faint smell of woodsmoke from the campfires. Today was the day. The crowns on our heads felt heavier than they had yesterday, not because of their weight, but because of what they represented.

Demetrius was standing by the window of the council tent, staring out at the clearing where the human delegation was supposed to arrive. He hadn't put on his formal tunic yet. He just stood there in his leather vest, ...