Authorial Note: First off, thanks for reading. Secondly, if there's any hardened Dresdenites out there who have a very firm grasp on the universe of the books, I'd appreciate it if you'd PM me. I need someone to bounce ideas off of in order to ensure I remain within the bounds of the Dresdenverse's rules. Thirdly, I don't have a third point to make. Read on!

Chapter One

Arctis Tor was not a pleasant place to stay. Mortals were held in low regard there, considering how often they found the realms of Faerie hazardous, both physically and mentally, but even the Winter Sidhe could find their home taxing. Not that it's my home. There is no way in hell I'd ever choose to live there. But one does not refuse a formal invitation to Court from Mab, Queen of Air and Darkness. Especially not when one's patron gave you some not-so-subtle prodding in that direction. The tower of ice cut quite a figure, dominating the skyline for miles and miles around. Of course, miles weren't really a thing in Faerie. As I approached the gate a Sidhe in armor that looked like it was made of black ice sneered down at me from the walls. His hair was dark and cut down to his chin, and like all Sidhe, his features were perfectly symmetrical. I raised my hand slightly, and curled my fingers together, as if to snap them. His eyes widened, and he pulled away slowly from the dark ramparts.

A smirk of my own curled across my face. I hated the Sidhe Lords, shielded by their finery and their haughtiness, so arrogant and superior. But, act like you might send some actual violence their way, and they usually backed right down. Not to say they were cowards, not at all. The Winter Court was well aware of my reputation, and most of the lower ranking idiots knew better than to tempt me too far. Of course, any threat made after I passed through the gates would be completely empty. Mab might want me here, but defiance of her authority would be answered with retribution so swift I wouldn't be able to even think of an apology, much less vocalize one.

My shoes crunched on the hard-packed snow that counted as a road here. The black gates of Arctis Tor swung open slowly, unaided, before me, and I rolled my eyes at the theatricality. I pulled my overcoat tighter around the tailored suit I had chosen to wear, and checked one last time to ensure my casting materials were close at hand. The amulet I had enchanted specifically for this occasion warmed against my chest, and I could feel the comforting glow of its heat lodge in my torso.

Stepping through the gates of the capital of Winter was like passing through an icy waterfall. I emerged from the other side cold, out of breath, and with the not insignificant impression that I had just done something rather monumentally stupid. I could feel the amulet underneath my shirt heating up, and just as quickly the heat flowed into me, preempting the shivers I could feel building in my arms.

I tried to not look around very much in the courtyard. I had enough fuel for my nightmares without observing the attendees of a Winter gathering. Nevertheless, I managed, without meaning to, to catch the attention of the Erlking and his small contingent. My heart sank in my chest. Aside from the actual rulers of the Fey, the Erlking was the one Sidhe I truly dreaded. The others were scary, sure, but at least I had a bit of a chance against them. Luckily for me, the Erlking seemed to nurse a sort of fondness towards my person. I hoped. Maybe.

"Young hunter!" He boomed, his baritone easily carrying over the short distance between us. "I had hoped to encounter thee among the festivities!"

I put on the best facade of a smile I could. "Lord Herne, always a pleasure."

He laughed eerily and clapped me on the shoulder. It felt like being shot wearing body armor. "I had heard news of thy latest great hunt among the thralls of the Lords of Night." His eyes glittered. "T'was a great slaughter, by all accounts."

"You are most gracious, Erlking." I tried desperately to prevent myself from sweating, regardless of the cold. The Erlking was, first and foremost, the Lord of the Wild Hunt, and if he sensed any weakness at all, I could find myself as the next bit of sport when he and his rode through the night.

The Lord of the Hunt's eyes narrowed dangerously as he glared at one of the Sidhe behind me, and I turned my head just enough to see that it was the one who had been above the gate. It would seem even Herne couldn't stand these assholes. He spoke quietly, for my ears only, "Should ye require assistance among tonight's festivities, call. It shall be answered."

I looked at him skeptically, and he added, "There shall be no obligation placed upon you to repay the favor granted, should you choose to use it." My eyebrows shot up in surprise, and I tried to think through every angle Herne could be using. On the one hand, he could be using me to eliminate someone among the Court he had a personal feud with. If that was the case, I'd put my money on Ice Armor over there. However, this could be some sort of long-term effort to persuade me to join the Wild Hunt. Ever since I started killing vampires in the Nevernever, he had been insistent that I be afforded the same "sport" as those of his own people.

My reply came slowly, each word carefully thought over before being spoken. "I am most grateful for your offer, Lord Herne, and should I find need of it, I will call for your aid." He nodded, placing his great antlered helm on his head.

I turned to walk away, and felt his powerful fingers clasp around my biceps. His voice was now barely above a whisper, "There are those gathered tonight who will try to provoke you to bloodshed. Remember the Queen's Law."

To say anything back would have been foolish, so I bowed very slightly at the waist. I could see now that there were many denizens of Winter staring in my direction, each and every one a predator of my kind. Ah, mortality. I walked into Arctis Tor like I owned the place, my stance daring any of the assembled nightmares to try me. I was terrified out of my wits, of course, but to let them see that would be the height of foolishness. Predators will always respond to body language, though it may not be in the way you expect. The fey did not part, but they did not attempt to stop me either. On the inside, I found a grand ballroom, most definitely different from the entrance room upon my last visit. There were even more denizens of Winter here than milled about outside. My heartbeat climbed. If they thought they could accomplish it without drawing the wrath of their host, most of those gathered here would try to tear me asunder. While laughing. While I was on fire.

An otherworldly shrieking started up near the wall farthest from the entrance. An invocation of lightning and spitting sparks was halfway through my mind, my fingers outstretched at my side, before I realized it was the announcement of Queen Mab. A dais of ice seemed to tear itself from the wall, the frozen perch shrieking in protest of its movement. The ice shuddered to a halt, creating a platform large enough to play volleyball on. Just as the dais finished its construction, a throne of solid ice began to rise from the floor of the platform. The moment it resolved its construction, a shape appeared, sitting straight in the throne, gazing out over the multitudes below.

Mab had come to court.

She was beautiful, in a deadly sort of way, her skin barely a shade above corpse pale, and her long hair darker than the night sky. She was dressed in, well; I can't honestly say what it was. It looked like opaque mist formed into a dress, constantly shifting and flowing with the slight breeze. I could feel a twitch going through the muscles of my face, and I ruthlessly clamped down on it, twisting my mouth into a grim rictus. I have no problem admitting to myself that I am, at heart, a coward, but I'll be damned if I get killed for looking like one.

At her appearance, every last one of the assembled guests turned to give her their undivided attention. Those seated rose to their feet, and any talk was cut instantly short. Surveying her subjects and guests imperiously, Mab's dark eyes glittered. The room was arranged so that every person would be in plain view of the dais. The message was clear. There is nowhere in Winter you can hide from the gaze of the Queen.

Said Queen nodded slightly at the assembled guests, and taking some signal from her gesture, an orchestra, completely unseen, began to play. I let out a small sigh of relief, and immediately moved towards a wall. Having my back to a solid surface was always helpful, and I could quickly survey the room.

Walking through a crowd of Sidhe in full revel is an . . . interesting experience. I could feel the subtle pressures of their magic, so integral to their being that it simply radiated away from their flesh, quietly straining in the air. Differing currents of energy from the more forceful personalities clashed and dueled, much like weather systems would in the atmosphere. I strode through it, a relatively calm mortal presence among the whirling tides of chaos. Already, I could feel the ambient force of the revel at the edges of my mind, whispering for me to let go and join the party, to lower my guard and have a little fun. That there was no risk here, only reward.

Yeah, right, and the fae also have a bridge to sell me in New York.

I made it to my chosen wall safely, and pressed my back to it, surveying what I saw. Honestly, I just couldn't tell what to think anymore. This was either a classy dance for monsters and impossibly beautiful people, out on the dance floor, or an orgy for just the impossibly beautiful people, in the corners. I tried to let my eyes just roam over the Sidhe women without really watching. As enticing as their physical attractiveness might be, I'd be better off shoving my masculinity into a blender.

A cold chill washed up my spine. I very slowly turned my head towards where my more-than-mundane senses told me it originated. Maeve was looking at me from across the room. There was no way she could see me very well through the bodies of so many others, but I could tell. I tipped an imaginary hat in her direction, and turned away again. Mab scared me. To be honest, Mab horrified me. A whole court full of sadistic Sidhe also scared me. Maeve was neither of those things, and if push came to shove, I'm fairly certain I could take her in a fight. I'd get beaten the hell up, but I'd win.

A young-looking Sidhe Lady chose just that time to approach, sidling up to next to me, settling in to lean against the wall. She was stunning, naturally, and for a moment my brain seemed to forget how to form words properly. Her long red hair was twisted into a large braid, and her pupils were length-wise, like a cat's, staring out from a heart-shaped face the color of a ripe peach. She had a light dusting of freckles, a first among any fae I'd ever seen. Of course, among the fae, appearance was no indicator of age, she could be barely more than a newborn, or older than human written language, for all I knew. Thus, it would pay to be polite.

"How may I help you ma'am?" I uttered in a low voice.

She smiled winningly and said, "It's more of how I can help you."

I grimaced. "I want no part of any deal, bargain, pact, agreement, compact or contract with a Faerie. Especially not a Winter one. No offense offered unto you, my lady, but I have more than enough hardship to be getting on with without adding debt to you into the mix."

A tinkling laugh issued from her pale lips, and all I could do was listen rapturously until it ended. I shook my head slightly, trying to clear my mind of the natural glamour that would always surround such a creature. Letting myself become lost in that dream would swiftly turn into a nightmare.

"No," she said ponderously, "I suppose you do. In any case, I offer a gift given freely, if you wish to take it." My eyes narrowed in suspicion, and I unconsciously reached under my jacket to touch the amulet through my shirt. She smiled winningly, her teeth almost fluorescent, "You may call me . . ." She paused to think for a moment, eyes lighting up after a few seconds, "Naime." Naime smiled benevolently. "Yes, that will do nicely. I currently find myself as a messenger from my Lady. She has informed me to direct you towards the far wall, so that you may find something that shall, oh, how did she put it? 'Inflame your passions.'"

That sounded just lovely. And not like a trap, not at all. "Is her Majesty . . . adamant that I go and investigate this?" Naime nodded seriously and I sighed. "If you would, please relate to Mab that I will do as she bids in this matter, and that I am pleased to accept her gracious invitation to her home."

Naime smiled, her mask of cheer impeccable, but I noticed her skin whitened further, and some of the red in her cheeks faded. "It is a dangerous game you play, mortal, but you do play it well."

I plunged once more into the party. I looked up to the dais and met Mab's gaze. She waved her hand in a supremely unconcerned and dismissive way, and matched it with a slight smile. Well, it would seem I had her approval. Things could only get worse from here.

At the Queen's gesture, a small path seemed to open up in the midst of the dancing and mingling Fae. I stalked through it like I was on my way to tear someone's face off. Which I probably was, considering it was Mab who was encouraging this.

Whatever else anyone may say of them, the Sidhe are clever. The second I got near the wall, they surreptitiously spread themselves out from what I assumed must be my destination. And what I saw there did in fact inflame passions. Mostly the negative ones.

My old friend Ice Armor was with four other Sidhe who seemed to be wearing the same kind of black ice as he was, though his was far fancier and better decorated. They stood in a loose circle around a woman who I could clearly tell was mortal. For one thing, she was certainly good looking, but not to the insane degree of perfection exhibited by the fae. The second indicator would be the terrified sobbing. Her skin was covered in what looked like a multitude of tiny cuts and bruises, and I could see that her fingers were nearing a shade of blue I normally associated with frostbite. I felt the sudden overpowering urge to turn them all into very inefficient lightning rods.

However, that would likely get me killed by something else, and it would probably take a week or two. A diplomatic approach might be best. Maybe. Probably not.

"Gentlemen," I said, in an overly cheery tone, "How are such honorable members of the Unseelie faring this gelid evening?"

Ice Armor glared at me. "Take your disgusting stench of death elsewhere, mortal; we have business to attend to."

I raised a single eyebrow, but otherwise didn't react. "Really? Is that how two reasonable beings speak to each other? All I want is for you to let the girl go, alive and unharmed, and we can end this discussion right now you insufferable, cowardly asshole."

He bared his teeth in a snarl of rage, and I noted with trepidation that his canines were sharp and long, much more so than even a vampire's. Dammit. Talking braver than I felt, I responded, "Who does your dental work? It's just, you know, I was thinking of getting some thorough whitening done, and wow, those puppies are shiny." I would have groaned out loud if it wouldn't have been a loss of important face. When I was properly angry or scared, and I was both in this case, I just could not make myself shut up.

Ice Armor's rage turned to brief confusion. I capitalized on it as best I could. "So, how about it, big guy, will you and your little One Direction cover band let the girl go, or does this have to get hectic and very briefly violent?"

"You wouldn't break the Queen's Law," he hissed, "Not even a mortal such as yourself is quite that stupid."

"Au contraire, asshat," I waggled my eyebrows mockingly. I just kept digging myself in deeper. Well, if I was going to die, I was going to die with a chuckle on my lips. I flicked my eyes towards Mab's dais, and right on time, she nodded imperiously.

"Well kiddo, looks like mommy's agreed to our duel, so let's do this, huh? You win, I'm dead and . . . I don't know, you get to loot my corpse or something. I win, your compatriots -the Icettes over there- let the girl go into my care, alive and unharmed, and you're dead." I paused significantly, sure that every Sidhe present was listening intently. "Unless, of course, you're too frightened of a simple mortal."

He knew it was a goad, he had to know, but his pride, and the expectations of his compadres, ensured he would take it hook, line and sinker. "I accept, wizard. All weapons at our disposal allowed."

I smiled. "Done and done. Time for the official declaration, I suppose. I, Jason Stewart, Champion of Whatever I Damn Well Please, do challenge you, Lord Asshat of the Sidhe, for rights to the mortal you and yours claim. Do you accept?"

I thought he might have been having a conniption, from the look on his face. His words were more animalistic snarl than language, and he thrust his face close to mine to say them. "I, Lord Tharesh of the Sidhe, do accept your challenge, under the terms previously agreed upon. May your bones rot in the dirt."

I smiled in his snarling face. "Cool, let's get to it then." A large circular area around us cleared in moments, and we marched to opposite sides.

Tharesh practically screamed at me, "Are you prepared, mortal slime?"

I yelled right back, "Sure, why not?!" It would seem my carefully crafted flippancy had done the trick. He was almost frothing at the mouth, which meant that while he would certainly fight harder, he would most definitely not be fighting smarter. From behind Tharesh, I could see Maeve, grinning maniacally at me. A sinking feeling went through my chest. She had set the whole thing up –– of course she had. This was all a game to try her hand at embarrassing her mother. One of the Icettes had the poor mortal girl's neck in his hand, his touch delicate, for now. If I lost, he'd probably snap her neck on the damn spot, just to spite me. Lovely.

I unbuttoned my long overcoat, and then my suit jacket beneath it. There were useful items in both, too many to justify discarding either, but I didn't want the reduced mobility keeping them both closed would prevent. I drew out my amulet from under my shirt, letting it fall naturally over my tie. The silver markings glowed with a warm orange light, and I felt a little better about the impending fight for my life.

Without a word, Mab appeared at the midpoint between us. She scooped up a small handful of whatever misty substance made up her dress, and it shaped itself into a square. For the first time since the festivities began, Mab spoke.

There is no way to properly describe the voice that issued forth from her lips; it was unlike anything I have ever heard, or will ever hear again. The closest I can come is a frigid gale, shrieking through crevices and canyons, yet whispering through the branches of trees. "When the material touches the floor, you shall begin. Blood may be shed in the interest of the duel. All weapons available to each combatant shall be permitted for use." She smiled beatifically, without a biting twist of the lips, or a cynical glimmer of the eye. "It has been too long since such sport was presented in my Court." With that, she vanished from the spot, appearing instantly on her throne.

The misty cloth fell through the air slowly, and all eyes were fixed on its ponderous descent.

Marker touched icy floor, and immediately I tapped the sleeve of my overcoat. My will touched the small symbols sewn into the holster there, and they released my only real weapon. A short scepter, about the length of a man's shin, and made entirely of cold, glorious steel, slid out of my coat, and I smoothly caught it, just as I'd practiced it for hours and hours. The engravings that curled around the simple rod glowed with an electric blue light. I smiled at Tharesh, focused my will, and spoke a single word. "Tintreach!"

Now, to be fair, the act of casting mortal magic is much more complex than just aiming and saying a word. I had to properly envision what I wanted, in this case transforming magical energy into electrical, and then focus my entire mind on fulfilling that want. The imagination created a sort of container for the energy of the spell, shaping what would normally be just aimless force into something useful, and then I poured my will into making it so. This is much more difficult than it sounds. I could do it in less than a second, but I'd been at this for a while now. And with every spell I cast, I have to truly believe in what I'm doing. While this isn't usually a concern, violent magic can be a morally unsteady footing. The caster has to honestly believe, without a shadow of a doubt, that causing the death of another living being is the right thing to do in the situation they're in. Most prefer to simply believe in the construct, and then let what happens happen. I didn't do that.

Blue-white forks of brilliant lightning arced from the tip of my scepter. Despite the chaotic nature of the very force I had summoned, I lashed it to my will, redirecting the lightning into one arc. The problem with magical force is such that whatever you summon still tries to obey natural laws. It takes a certain amount of effort to craft lightning, and even more sustained will to prevent it from immediately grounding itself out, or leaping to other objects that are closer than your intended target. Tharesh dived to the side faster than my eyes could track, narrowly avoiding the coruscating electricity. Despite the dispensation given to me by the Queen, I was in no mood to barbeque some bystander fae and end up in a blood feud with its relatives. With a snarl, I forced the energy downwards, blasting a giant line of scorch into the ice floor. Normally I would have found that at least passing strange, but I had other concerns.

Ice Armor had managed to land back on his feet, and had formed one of his black gauntlets into a medium length sword. With a yell, he launched himself into the air, his blade poised to cleave me in two. My left hand gripped the amulet around my neck, and I sent power into the runes inscribed around the edge of the piece. An indistinct dome of what looked like nothing so much as heat haze sprang into existence between me and Tharesh. He smashed into the shield bodily, and it took only a second or two before he screamed and threw himself backwards. At least half of his armor had melted off, and his sword was little more than a hilt with a puddle near it. Shiny burns covered much of his once-spotless face and hands.

I grinned at him. It had been a bit tricky, modifying my shielding amulet to give out heat as well as maintain the integrity of the kinetic shield, but I got there in the end. The good thing about enchanted items is that they're so much less complex than an on-the-fly spell. All I had to do was push power into the item, with perhaps a bare minimum of guiding mental force, and I'd get the effect I wanted. Plus it had the nice side effect of keeping me warm and toasty while the actual amulet touched my skin. Necessary preparations for visiting Arctis Tor.

Letting the shield drop, I raised my scepter to point at my foe. "Tintreach!" Again a bolt of lightning shot forth from the metal, and again Tharesh dodged. But this time, he was slower, and the bolt nearly clipped his leg. I ground out the lightning on the frigid floor again, burning more scorch into the unyielding ice.

This time, Tharesh didn't bother leaping; he had gotten fairly close to me with that move already. Instead, he dashed around to my side almost faster than my eyes could see, and swung what looked rather distressingly like a newly formed sword at me. In the brief moment I could see it I was not reassured. All I could tell is that there were spikes. Far too many spikes. I twitched backwards in pure reflex, desperately moving away from his assault, but not quite far enough. The very tip of his blade cut a thin line down my torso, and I could immediately feel blood staining my shirt. A gauntleted fist followed the slash and, again, I rolled my head back but not fast enough to avoid the entire blow. His knuckles connected with my jaw as I moved back, and knocked me right off my feet. I felt a foot connect with my ribs, and felt at least one fracture, possibly even break. Hopefully not right into my lung. That would be bad.

Another kick connected with my torso and sent me skidding along the slick floor. I groaned in pain. At least there wasn't a rib and copious amounts of blood in my lungs. I could hear Tharesh giving some indignant speech somewhere to my left, but I didn't have the attention to waste on his words. I could hear quiet laughter and delighted talk coming from the crowd. At least someone was enjoying this. I reached with my left hand into the inside pocket of my overcoat, retrieving a small drawstring bag. It opened easily, and I held as still as I could.

Tharesh, like all bullies, felt he had to make a spectacle out of his victory. He stalked towards my limp form, still ranting on about . . . something or other. I didn't really pay attention. I managed a choking cough to try and clear my lungs, and asked in a shaky tone, "Hey, is this going to be on the final?"

With a whirl, he grabbed the front of my coat and lifted my face to his. "Where are your jokes now, mortal? I'm going to kill you. Laugh at that."

I chuckled, feeling a little better already. "Yeah, okay, McEvilstein. Could you be any more clichéd? Clearly you've never read the Evil Overlord List." With that witty little gem, shut up it was brilliant; I threw the entire pouch worth of iron filings in his face. Tharesh stumbled backwards, and though he didn't scream, I could see he badly wanted to. I, of course, was dropped back to the cold floor. On my recently broken rib and rather bruised flesh. Ow. At least I was able to snatch up my scepter. Ice Armor was only angrier now, and he took his sword in both hands, eyes glinting with hate.

Well, this is bad, I thought, as Tharesh plunged his sword down towards my torso. I rolled onto my side desperately, gasping at the pain running through my broken rib, and his black sword jammed itself into the ice. Interesting. I swung my scepter towards his back, and the steel seemed to pass right through his ice armor, before searing into his flesh. Tharesh screamed at an ear-splitting volume, the muscles in his back thrown into a series of spasms. I twisted around so my feet were facing him, careful to keep the steel rod pressed against him. I kicked my foe in the side with one foot, and he bowled over easily, his bloodcurdling screaming finally abating. Honestly, if he hadn't been screeching the whole time, it would have been kind of hilarious, just kicking him over like that.

I leveled the scepter at his trembling form and uttered quietly, "Tintreach."

This time, there was no dodging. Neither was this a single bolt of electricity. Instead, I continued to pour power into the construct, producing a continuous stream of lightning. Tharesh's screams continued, rising in pitch and volume as I poured electricity into him. His muscles locked up like steel bands, clenching his limbs around his torso in a tight ball. The smell of burned flesh grew strong in the air, and I still continued to pour lightning into him. Somehow, he managed to finally form a coherent plea to his comrades. "Help me!"

Three of the Icettes leapt forward into the circle, brandishing their own ice weapons. The last kept his hand on the girl's neck. I turned my scepter from Tharesh's quivering form and pointed it straight at his minions. Hopefully he would take a bit to recover from that. Sparks spat out from the engravings, along with the normal blue light. They didn't necessarily back away, but they certainly stopped coming closer. A small smile quirked at the corners of my mouth. We had indeed agreed upon all weapons at our respective disposals. I lifted the fingers of my free hand up to my mouth and whistled piercingly.

A second passed. Then two. Just when I felt my stomach begin to sink, I heard a hunting horn call from the crowd in reply to my whistle. The Erlking shouldered his way through the crowd of Sidhe, his green eyes aflame with excitement. And I do mean aflame. Instead of eyes, he seemed to have green fires where his eyes should have been. I quickly got out of his way. Herne may be on my side right now, but that did not mean that I wanted to be between the Hunt and their prey. The Erlking brushed past me, unsheathing his massive sword as he walked towards the Icettes. As he passed me I heard him murmur, "I thank thee, young hunter."

Quite honestly, I was unreasonably lucky that the Erlking had responded so well to being whistled for. I half expected him to kill me first for having the audacity to summon him like a common servant. He must really hate Tharesh, or whoever was giving the asshat his marching orders.

I looked back down at Tharesh, who was just now managing to struggle onto his hands and knees.

I let my scepter slide down until I was gripping it by the head, and positioned it over the center of his spine. I opened my hand, and the second the scepter began to fall, I yelled, "Teann!"

An invisible burst of force erupted from my palm, focused on the head of the steel rod. It smashed clean through Tharesh's armor, and then his flesh, impaling him to the floor like an insect pinned to a card for study. He was too battered to scream, but I couldn't imagine the kind of pain he was feeling now. I placed a hand on the smooth metal of my scepter. Normally I prefer to be ruthlessly pragmatic in combat. I leave the showy crap to demons and swordsmen. However, this was, first and foremost, a show. The Queen of Winter was the only part of the audience who I particularly wanted or needed to impress, and my life just may have been hanging on the result of said show. I looked around to ensure I had the attention of every last Sidhe, before screaming out for the last time, "Tintreach!" Lightning ran through the conductive metal before spreading throughout my opponent's body. He jerked and twitched as the electricity ran through his nervous system and his muscles. He couldn't scream, but a twisted sort of whine was torn from his failing lungs and throat. It rose in intensity steadily until suddenly it ceased completely. With some difficulty, I yanked the scepter from Tharesh's back, flicking it once to try and remove the blood and other tissue from it.

I looked around at the sea of fae, and even they seemed shocked by what I had done. It was the steel, most likely. We mortals cannot, and likely will not, ever grasp just how badly iron hurts the Sidhe. It sears their flesh, yes, but it's more than that. Iron burns their very souls, in a kind of pain we mortals can't even imagine. I had once been told that it felt a little bit like you were dying. And the fae who are touched by the Bane, as they call it, are never quite the same again. Some became withdrawn and paranoid, seeing enemies with cold, cruel iron wherever they looked. Others became bitter and hateful, lashing out at any who dared to be near them.

I nodded in satisfaction, and straightened my tie, noting with despair that some of the blood from my cut had soaked into the fabric. I looked into the crowd, and raised my voice to be heard over the sound of the Erlking's combat. "Are you not entertained? Is this not why you are here?" None of them got it. I sighed quietly. No taste for the classics around here.

The Erlking had already reduced one of Tharesh's minions to three pieces, and was currently impaling a second. I went over to the third and made a downward motion with the splayed fingers of my left hand. "Teann!" I was lucky. He was so stunned by the defeat of his fearless leader that he had barely even raised a weapon.

The Sidhe was crushed down to his knees, and with a sickening pair of cracks, I heard his kneecaps, and probably several other bones, shatter. Immediately he pitched forward, his face smashed into the floor. I released the force and studied the tableau. One Sidhe a burned hunk of meat, two cut into pieces by the Erlking, who had clearly thrown in his formidable allegiance to a mortal in this conflict, and the last one on his face before me.

I turned to face away from the fallen Sidhe. It was the worst insult I could give him. The crowd was hushed, and I glared out at them. "This," I yelled, "is a message! Is my message perfectly clear?! Do any of you need an explanation as to the precise content of said message?!"

One of the Sidhe stepped forward. "We will not accept this treatment from a m-"

His sentence was cut off as I snarled, "Tintreach!" This one was unprepared for combat, and completely unshielded by armor, magical or mundane. And he was no trained warrior, with none of the combat reflexes the professional killers amongst the Sidhe possessed. The bolt didn't so much hit him as it did burn through him. For a split second he danced like a poorly controlled marionette, limbs jerking spastically. Of course, he was dead the instant that much voltage went into his brain, but sometimes my spells will accidentally trigger muscle activity in corpses. I made sure to let the bolt ground out before it emerged from the other side of his torso. No need to make more enemies than absolutely necessary.

"Thank you," I said calmly, "For raising your concerns. I'm glad you asked, really, I am."

I looked up questioningly at Mab, and she said, in her indescribable voice, "You may address the throne."

I bowed my head respectfully. "Thank you. Thank you for your kind invitation to tonight's festivities, but I am afraid I must be departing now. Of course, I would be rude to leave without the consent of the hostess . . ."

Mab waved one hand lazily in my direction. "Go on your way, mortal wizard. Take the prize you have won and depart my court." I tipped an imaginary hat her way and walked towards where the scared girl sat. She looked up at me with frightened eyes, and I tried to smile reassuringly. The scars near my eye probably didn't help. I reached a hand out to help her up, and she seemed to consider it seriously for a moment or two before taking it and allowing me to haul her to her feet. Without another word, I opened a Way back to Earth, stepping through it, scared woman in tow.