Mab rose out of her chair, and somehow in that instant of action she crossed the distance from her high seat, as though the simple act of standing up were what propelled her to the space nearby. As she came, the pallid finery of her dress darkened to raven black, as if the air had contained a fine mist of ink. Her hair darkened as well to the same color, and her eyes turned entirely black, sclera and all, as did her nails. The skin seemed to cling harder to her bones, making her beautiful features gaunt and terrible.

The Redcap flinched away from me and dragged himself back with his arms, getting clear. Give credit where it’s due: He might have been a sadistic, bloodthirsty monster, but he wasn’t a stupid one.

The furious, burned ogre wasn’t bright enough to realize what was happening. Still smoldering, still enraged, it came stomping toward Sarissa.

“Knight,” Mab said, the word a whipcrack.

Maeve came to the edge of the platform and clutched her hands into fists, her mouth twisted into a snarl.

I didn’t get up off the ground. There wasn’t time. Instead, I focused my will upon the advancing ogre and funneled my anger and my pain into the spell, along with the frozen core of power within me. I unleashed the energy as I thundered, “Ventas servitas!”

The ogre was only a couple of yards from Sarissa when the gale of arctic wind I’d called up slammed into the thing and lifted its massive bulk completely off the ground. It tossed the ogre a good ten feet away. It landed in a tumble, dug its claws into the ice, and fought its way back to its feet.

I rose from the ground, acutely conscious of Mab’s black presence just over my left shoulder, of the watching eyes of the Winter Court.

I’d told Sarissa this was my first day in prison, and the yard was full of things that could and would kill me if they got the chance. It was time for an object lesson.

I reached down into the cold inside of me. It was painful to touch that power, like throwing yourself into icy water, like emerging from warm covers into the shuddering cold of an unheated apartment on a winter morning. I didn’t like it, but I knew how to get it.

All I had to do was think about everyone I’d let down. Everyone I’d left behind back in Chicago. My brother, Thomas. My apprentice, Molly. My friends. My daughter. Karrin. I thought about them and it felt like something in my chest was starting to tear in half.

The Winter inside me was torment and agony—but at least when I was immersed in it, I couldn’t feel.

I lifted my right arm, the side that projects energy, focused my will, and shouted, “Infriga!”

There was a flash of light, an arctic howl, a scream of air suddenly condensed into liquid, and an explosion of frost and fog centered upon the ogre. The air became a solid fog bank, a rolling mist, and for several seconds there was silence. I waited for the mist to disperse, and after several long seconds it began to clear away, swept along by the remnants of the gale I had called first.

When it cleared, the entire Winter Court could see the ogre, standing crouched just as it had been when I threw the spell at it.

I waited for a moment more, letting everyone see the ogre standing absolutely still in defiance of Mab’s law.

Then I drew forth my will again, extended my hand, and snarled, “Forzare!” A lance of invisible power lashed out at the ogre—and when it struck, the frozen monster shattered into thousands of icy chunks, the largest of which was about the size of my fist.

The bits of the former ogre exploded over several hundred square yards of the dance floor, and grisly frozen shrapnel pelted the watching Sidhe and sent them reeling back with shouts of alarm. The Sidhe gathered themselves again, and every one of those bright eyes locked onto me, their expressions alien, unreadable.

From one of the back corners, I heard a deep, heartily amused chuckle rolling through the air. Kringle, I thought.

I turned to Mab and almost spoke—but then I remembered her other law and closed my mouth.

Mab’s mouth twitched in an approving microsmile, and she nodded her head at me.

“If you consent, I would speak to them.”

She stared at me with those black carrion-bird eyes and nodded.

First, I helped Sarissa to her feet, passing her a clean white handkerchief, which she immediately pressed to her mouth. I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile. Then I took a deep breath and turned to address the room, turning in a slow circle as I spoke to be sure I included everyone. My voice echoed throughout the whole chamber as clearly as if I’d been using a PA system.

“All right, you primitive screwheads. Listen up. I’m Harry Dresden. I’m the new Winter Knight. I’m instituting a rule: When you’re within sight of me, mortals are off-limits.” I paused for a moment to let that sink in. Then I continued. “I can’t give you orders. I can’t control what you do in your own domains. I’m not going to be able to change you. I’m not even going to try. But if I see you abusing a mortal, you’ll join Chunky here. Zero warnings. Zero excuses. Subzero tolerance.” I paused again and then asked, “Any questions?”

One of the Sidhe smirked and stepped forward, his leather pants creaking. He opened his mouth, his expression condescending. “Mortal, do you actually think that you can—”

“Infriga!” I snarled, unleashing Winter again, and without waiting for the cloud to clear, hurled the second strike, shouting, “Forzare!”

This time I aimed much of the force up. Grisly bits of frozen Sidhe noble came pattering and clattering down to the ice of the dance floor.

When the mist cleared, the Sidhe looked . . . stunned. Even Maeve.

“I’m glad you asked me that,” I said to the space where the Sidhe lord had been standing. “I hope my answer clarified any misunderstandings.” I looked left and right, seeking out eyes, but didn’t find any willing to meet mine. “Are there any other questions?”

There was a vast and empty silence, broken only by Kringle’s continued rumbles of amusement.

“Daughter,” Mab said calmly. “Your lackey shamed me as the host of this gathering. I hold you accountable. You will return to Arctis Minora at once, there to await my pleasure.”

Maeve stared at Mab, her eyes cold. Then she spun in a glitter of gems and began striding away. Several dozen of the Sidhe, including the Redcap and the rawhead, followed her.

Mab turned to Sarissa and said in a much calmer voice, “Honestly. Iron?”

“I apologize, my Queen,” Sarissa said. “I’ll dispose of it safely.”

“See that you do,” Mab said. “Now. I would have a dance. Sir Knight?”

I blinked, but didn’t hesitate for more than an instant or three. “Um. My arm seems to be an obstacle.”

Mab smiled and laid a hand upon my shoulder. My arm popped back into its socket with a silver shock of sensation, and the pain dwindled to almost nothing. I rolled my shoulder, testing it. If it wasn’t exactly comfortable, it seemed to work well enough.

I turned to Mab, bowed, and stepped closer to her as the music rose again. It was a waltz. While the stunned Sidhe looked on, I waltzed with Mab to a full orchestral version of Shinedown’s “45,” and the smaller bits of our enemies crunched beneath our feet. Oddly enough, no one joined us.

Dancing with Mab was like dancing with a shadow. She moved so gracefully, so lightly that had my eyes been closed, I might not have been able to tell that she was there at all. I felt lumbering and clumsy beside her, but managed not to trip over my own feet.