Roxie's POV
We brought him in surrounded by four armed warriors, but Pyrrhus did not raise his hands once.
He sat across from me in the iron room where Marcus had once knelt, where Celeste had once cried, and the great dragon clan leader looked smaller in that chair than I had thought a man like him could look. His amber eyes were tired. The hard lines around his mouth had softened into something that was almost shame.
"My own clan voted against me," he said, before I could ask a single question. "Two nights ago. The elders, the warriors—they put it to a vote in the old chamber, and the answer came back loud. They will not go to war with an Original." A thin, bitter smile crossed his face. "It seems my cousins have more sense than I do. I have spent five hundred years carrying a wound
