If Balthazar had doubted that the blood of kings had thinned since his time, that the gifts of the Imperial line and the sorcery he'd been heir to had faded, such doubts were dispelled by Aurora's return to his prison.  Not in fear or despair, or confusion of a sleeper, she came in rage, with a grim purpose that manifested her will like a crown of fire at her brow.  The girl did not seem to realize what she did, altering the fabric of the realm by the force of her will and fury, her blue eyes lighting upon the old spectre like dragon's breath.  She was more powerful than she realized; she would make a fine pupil indeed; if he did not have to destroy her first.<br/><br/>"How dare you, Balthazar," she began, her voice deep, like an echo from a bottomless cave.  "How dare you use me like that without telling me first.  One blow with a smith's hammer, grandsire, and all your dreams and hopes turn to ash.  Don't think that I won't, if you do something like that to me again."