She was kept secreted away in the mountain for nearly nine turns of the moon. The human Rowland would visit her from time to time to test her powers and his control over them. She was his tool to be used, but he was not quick to make use of her.

She then found herself transported southward to a city of the humans. No doubt they were quite proud of their construction, but it was little more that a lifeless pile of cut stone and wood. Did they not realize that the work of their crude tools only served to strip the life away and nullify the greater part of the materials' strength? They were such fools.

She was given a chamber of her own, no doubt a fine thing by human reckoning but truly no better than that cave in the mountain. Worse, perhaps, as everything was so lifeless. There was little natural energy for her to draw upon, which made her all the more restless.

A strange thing about the chains that bound her was that they suppressed the manifestation of her true form. Her skin turned a milky white, the color drained from her hair, and her wings shriveled up and fell off her back. She could almost pass for a Moonchild and to the untrained eye, perhaps she did, not that she was ever out in the presence of the general public.

Speaking of Moonchildren, the one who served Rowland would wait on Mab from time to time. The Moonchildren were less offensive to the Fae than the humans, even one twisted by the Darkness as this one. That did not make Mab hate her any less, especially since it was she who shackled the Faerie Queen in the first place.

The Moonchild was bearing a tall wooden cup with a thin reed in it. Of course iron was the bane of the Fae, but they had little affinity for other metals either and so plant matter was preferred.

Normally, a High Faerie like Mab could survive on mana alone, but in a place like this where the mana was weak, she needed more. Solid food was an abomination, but pure nectar gave strength to the flesh when mana alone did not suffice.

She took the cup and put the reed to her lips. Sipping some of the nectar, she then spat it out at the Moonchild. It was less a matter of the recipe being wrong—indeed, they had come rather close to the formula for the nectar of the Fairy Realm after months of trial and error. Rather, it was her way of showing contempt for her captors, the Moonchild in particular.

No matter what Mab said or did, though, the Moonchild never let her temper get the better of her. She was well-trained, at the very least. She bore the indignity of Mab's insults, but were it not for Rowland, she probably would have put a knife in Mab's face long ago. That would have been a mercy, or so it seemed on her worst days.

It was Rowland, amusedly watching the scene play out. The Moonchild turned to him. He took some sort of cloth hanging off his shoulder and wiped her face, almost as a father would a child, even though he was centuries the Moonchild's junior.

Though she scorned all Moonchildren, Mab held them in far higher esteem than the wretched humans. For a Moonchild to subject herself to a human was perverse and disgusting. Not so much as Mab herself being subjected to a human, though at least Mad retained enough of her dignity that she did not submit with the same willing eagerness.

Mab preferred to ignore Rowland whenever she could, but she found herself compelled to ask, "Why does that Moonchild debase herself so for one such as you?"

Rowland was even more disciplined than the Moonchild when it came to bearing her barbs, though he could always use the chains to punish her whenever he saw fit. On occasion he would, but never in anger. It was always coldly calculated to break down her resistance. She was loath to admit that after learning the consequences, there were some lines she no longer crossed. Was she to be as well-trained as the Moonchild? She shuddered at the thought.

To answer her question, Rowland said, "Simona's word is her bond. She swore an oath to serve my family and she's spent the past three hundred years keeping that oath. You could learn a thing or two from her."

She highly doubted that being so deranged as to enjoy her servitude would speed the days, but if she lost her mind like that, would the length of the days even matter anymore?

Rowland extended his hand to her and said, "Come, my lady. It's time."

So after all these months of waiting and testing, he was finally going to make use of her? She was not particularly eager to see how she was to be used, but she would be lying to herself if she pretended that the prospect of breaking up the monotony of her listless days did not offer a measure of appeal to her.

She was led up upon the walls where she had a commanding view of the humans' vaunted city. It was no less disconcerting now than the first time she witnessed this monument of death, this altar to the severed bond between Man and Nature.

Mab knew of men with their terrible suits of iron. The very thought made her skin itch and burn, particularly at her wrists where the shackles bound her.

Infuriating though it was that it only came at Rowland's word, Mab welcomed the fresh rush of power that strengthened her bones and quickened her flesh. Her color returned and new wings sprouted from her back, stretching out as the day she emerged from the Second Cocoon.

She could now sense every living thing around her for miles and it did not take her long to discern the humans Rowland named his enemies. Their iron dulled her ability to perceive them, but that made them as black rats scurrying across the snow. In unseeing she saw them all the more clearly.

They were many and they were coming. She would be ready for them. Stretching out her arms, she called upon the spirits of earth and air to raise a barrier around the palace. So long as it held, none would pass.

She watched with some bemusement as the enemy approached the barrier, found it impassible, then went about racking their feeble little brains to overcome it. Those with the touch of magic to them began to gather their power, apparently in an effort to take down the barrier. Of course, a human wielding magic was much like an ape rooting around with a stick. There was some rudiments of thought behind it but no sophisticated understanding. Even in concert, they posed little threat. However, it was unwise to lower your guard to an ape, even more so a group of them.

Splaying out her fingers, Mab drew points of energy on the surface of the barrier. She moved her fingers and the points moved along with them. Once they were in place, Mab charged the points and then released the channeled energy in arcs of lightning that played havoc with the enemy ranks and more importantly, killed or otherwise disrupted their magic-wielders.

It was all too easy, too easy to offer much diversion until something unexpected happened. There was a disturbance in the barrier. Mab followed the waves of the disturbance back to their source. Behind her, up in the air was a lone human. How he even got up there was a mystery, but he was attempting to pierce the barrier with an enchanted sword. There was a touch of Moonchild magic to it, but it was no Moonchild who wielded the sword.

The mad act did not pose any real threat to her barrier, but the impudence of it angered her. She would make a special example of this human. With both hands, she created a ring of points and drew them in around the offending human. His destruction would be absolute and so too would be the terror it inspired.

Before she could do this, though, she was met with another surprise. It was one of the Wyrmkin. Strange that she had not sensed its power sooner. Stranger still that the Wyrmkin plucked the human from the barrier. Not be denied her victim, Mab lashed out at the Wyrmkin, but the wretched creature had power enough to withstand the magical onslaught.

Mab prepared to unleash another blast, but if nothing else, the animal cunning of the Wyrmkin was strong. It did not remain to receive another blow. Shouting something, possibly in the human tongue, it flew off with all haste, taking the human with it.

If she could not make an example of one, she would make an example of them all. She stretched out her arms to the left and to the right and strained her powers for all they were worth. Slowly, the barrier began to expand. If the enemy had any sense, they would flee at once. If they did not, they would meet with an unpleasant end.

Here the prized iron skins of the human would be their bane instead of hers. Mab's barrier would pass harmlessly through wood, stone and flesh, but it could not pass through iron. It would simply push the iron along and should the iron strike against something else, the barrier would continue to push until one object or the other gave way. For men wrapped iron, this could only end in horrible, crushing death. And so it was, announced by the scattered screams of those who dared to stand their ground and those who thought they could hide and escape the Faerie Queen's wrath.

At the end, her barrier extended all the way to the outer wall. That should have served to deter the enemy for the time being. She did not care to know how many she killed. It did not matter. All that mattered was that the enemy was driven out and would not likely dare to return, at least not as they had come this day.

Mab held the barrier at its greater extremity while she could. Even without the burden of the chains, she could not continue for much longer without tiring. As her stamina began to drain, the barrier receded. Slowly it made its way back to her, until she could no longer hold it. The barrier flickered, as did her vision. She then fainted, only to fall into a pair of strong arms.

Weakened though she was, Mab attempted to work some craft on him, saying, "Were it not for these chains, I could perform even greater deeds."

Rowland, however, was not so easily tempted.

Curse him. Stupid human that he was, he could not be tempted into his own doom so easily. She would have to continue to play the game. If she had to kill every last one of his enemies to be free, that was what she would do and the moment the chains dropped off her wrists, she would see herself avenged.