Frost slipped silently down the halls  of the faerie mound, home 
of the Unseelie court, unseen.  Though the guards had noticed a 
slight chill in the air, they had thought nothing of it.  Well he, 
Frost, was supposedly being punished at the hands of the Queen, so 
why would they?  Still he wondered what Doyle would say.  Either he 
would have been pleased at Frost's tactics, or he would be furious 
that a threat could get past those he'd trained so vigorously with 
almost no detection.  Probably both if he knew his friend's mind at 
all.  Swiftly he made his way towards the hall he knew well.  The 
mere idea filled him with dread.  He'd dragged many an unfortunate 
soul down this corridor...to Ezekial's care.  The black obsidian 
floor shined like a dark crystal encasing terrible secrets, yet it 
reflected nothing.

Noiselessly, he made his way under the heavy oak, iron encrusted door 
and was immediately assaulted with shrieks of agony following the 
sharp crack of a whip.  By the flowing tone of the cry, he was almost 
sure it was Barinthus. He seeped into the main chamber and quickly 
surveyed the scene.  The fire pit in the center of the circular room 
was stoked with many glowing red coals and several instruments of 
malice stuck into them.  Along the walls were several sets of chains 
with manacles.  His three comrades hung there, Doyle seemingly 
unconscious. Rory as yet untouched and his glamour holding its 
ground, and Barinthus writhed as Kevames stood ten feet behind him 
and slashed his back repeatedly with vicious flicks of his whip.  
Kevames stood in black satin pantaloons and suede boots.  He was bare-
chested and sprinkled lightly with Barinthus' blood.  The queen sat 
off to the side in a black ornamented throne sipping an almost 
reddish-black liqueur.

She sat idly with one nyloned leg slung over the arm of the chair.  
She was adorned in a black satin teddy with a train that reached the 
floor, but left the front open, its neckline almost plunging to her 
belly button.  Her hair was braided back into several loops that 
formed a crown at the back of her head.  Instantly she was aware of a 
presence in the room.  "Who dares to enter my private hall and 
interrupt my entertainment.  Show yourself, traitor!" she bellowed, 
filling the room with the swell of her magic to ferret out the 
culprit.  Frost materialized behind her with Geamhradh Po'g resting 
calmly against her throat. "That would be me, your Majesty," he 
answered politely.  

The queen's eyes widened in shock.  "What is this devilry? There you 
hang, yet I find you behind me threatening my life?" Frost lifted her 
from her seat using the blade under her chin as encouragement until 
he could slip his body behind her, encircling her waist with his 
other arm.  As she watched, Rory's glamour slipped from his being, 
revealing the real traitor.  "You," her eyes narrowed as she hissed 
the word like a curse.  "You'll never get them all out alive, Frost" 
Kevames smirked from his place. Frost returned his court-practiced 
smile with one of his own. "It is a pleasure to see you again, Poison 
Oak." They began circling each other as Frost inched towards his 
tethered friends.  "And actually, I believe I will.  You see, if this 
blade I'm holding to the Queen's throat even so much as draws a drop 
of blood, she will be void of passion...and thus the whole of the 
Unseelie court will be left barren.  I don't think anyone wants to 
risk that....do you?"

A smile more evil than his previous one cross Kevames lips, but he 
said nothing further.  Oh, he had something up his sleeve...or at 
least he thought he did.  Finally Frost reached his friends and 
without warning blew into the Queen's air a chilling wind.  Instantly 
her brain froze in suspended animation and she slumped in his 
arms, "I'm sorry about this, your Majesty, but its for your own 
good." he muttered under his breath.  He shifted her weight in his 
grip and swift as lightening struck Rory down, quickly returning the 
blade to the Queen's neck.  Rory grabbed a dagger from Frost's belt 
to arm himself and then moved to the other side of the room to grab 
the keys to the manacles shackling the others.  "How's the back, 
Frost?" Kevames taunted.  He seemed not at all concerned about the 
freedom of the others.  

"My back is better than ever, thank you for asking," Frost replied 
with a slight bow of the head.  Kevames' eyes narrowed as he 
scrutinized the silver Raven now. "That is not possible.  There is no 
cure for my poison whip.  You should have been a lump of rotted flesh 
by now." he spat.  'Ah, hah...so we struck a nerve, did we?' Frost 
thought to himself as he raised an elegant eyebrow.  Out loud he 
snorted in amusement. "You Seelie have always underestimated the 
lesser fey and their "gifts". " And that was all he said on the 
matter.  By that time, Rory had both the other guards down.  "Can you 
carry both their weight?" Frost tossed the question over his 
shoulder, but his gaze never left the Seelie turncoat.  

"I can walk," Barinthus spoke up weakly, but determined.  He 
straightened up and strode proudly towards the door, Rory hefted the 
unconscious Doyle over one shoulder and walked backwards after 
him...guarding his back.  "Go ahead," Kevames openly 
challenged, "Take her, kill her.  I have a new king to back.  She 
won't be missed and Merry is not here to challenge him," he smiled 
maliciously.  Frost studied the one called 'Poison Oak' once more as 
he backed around the room.  He shook his head, "Cel can only 
officially take the thrown if he has Andais' body to present to the 
court as evidence of her death. I don't intend to give you that 
pleasure."  With that, he left the Seelie standing in the torture 
chamber alone and followed his friends out into the hall.