Fin walked.
His steps were silent on the floor, each movement fluid, economical. Mechanical. He moved towards the throne, the humming blade held loosely at his side.
The Queen watched him approach, the analytical curiosity returning briefly to her eyes, warring with the simmering rage. She saw the power contained within him, the effortless destruction he had just wrought.
A faint smile touched her lips, cold and possessive. "Magnificent," she murmured again, almost admiringly.
Then her expression hardened. Amusement fled. Dominance asserted itself.
She waved a dismissive hand.
An invisible force slammed into Fin, lifting him off his feet and sending him tumbling backward through the air. He crashed into the far wall with bone-jarring force.
He slid down, landing in a heap amidst shattered stone.
