He was enormous, easily ten feet tall at the shoulder, and he came in on four feet, his talons gouging the stone floor as he slid across it, his vicious growl so loud and deep that I felt it in my chest. Scaled dragon feet gave way to wolf-like limbs, heavier than any canine, but covered in thick fur black with soot and spattered with gore. The powerful muscle of his shoulders and haunches rolled as he stalked towards the throne, a baleful light in those golden eyes. Great horns arched over his skull, the left one broken halfway, black armor running from the four slits of his nostrils along the top of his wolf's muzzle to spread across his back, the gleaming spikes catching the light.

Dain's lips lifted in a snarl as he snapped his wolf-like teeth together, those white fangs streaked with blood, standing out stark against the blood-soaked fur and his black gums. His wing-arms flexed as he moved, muscled and strong. Arrows peppered his body, and I saw the hilt of a sword protruding from his side. Those tails of his lashed through the air, long and dangerous. His rage glittered all around him, the power of the son of the god of winter chilling the air and turning the humidity to frost.

The dead came in through the hole in the wall, burned and battered and determined, and Dain turned and roared, the sound leaving my ears ringing and the bodies collapsing bonelessly, his mother's stolen power countered by the power that flowed in his veins.

The Queen started laughing, her voice cutting clear and cold across the room. Dain whipped his head towards her, an animalistic movement, and started forward again into a crouching stalk.

"Stop," she said, with utter calm.

He stopped, instantly, his growl starting again, rolling through the air. Loud and soft, loud and soft, changing pitch and volume as he breathed.

"You see, dear girl?" the Queen said, sounding amused and almost fond. "Even the gods' children cannot fight the power of a Court turned against them." She smoothed her dead fingers along my hand. "Here is your command, Faerqen's bastard child," she said, her voice cutting. "I'm going to stand, and step aside from the throne. You may either destroy the Antlered Palace around us and leave that throne blasted, or watch your soulmate die by my hand. If she dies..." The Queen laughed, a mad sound. "Well, I suppose we will discover if enough of the dead still move enough to demolish a palace, won't we? Perhaps it would be amusing to make you watch your Leah help tear this place down around us. Mortals are so very fragile. What do you think her body will look like, afterwards?"