Except there was no throne where she was going but a senate, or a mockery of one, full of the unworthy filth who dared to call themselves leaders of changelings. She was no conqueror—she ruled here, and she had been brought low and captured in the heart of her own fortress. That insult burned worse than any other. It took everything she had not to gnash her teeth, to grind her fanged maw and snarl at the pitiful wretches to her sides, baring her fangs and demanding their submission.