Again, the inhuman eyes raked at mine. But when she spoke, her voice was very, very soft and far more terrible than a moment before. “I am not some mortal merchant to be bargained with. I am not some petty president to be argued with. I am Mab.” “You are Mab,” I said. “And I owe you a debt for preserving my life. For giving me the power I needed to save my daughter’s life. Don’t think that I have forgotten that.”
