feels banner deaths

“I can feel them,” I said. “The people following me.”
Mab closed her eyes for a moment. Then she said, “Yes. Such is the rule of Winter.”
“And when they die. I’ll feel that, too.”
“Obviously,” Mab said, in a near whisper. “For all power there is a price.”
I shuddered. My soul had already taken a beating in the past few days. I don’t know that I needed to add on the psychic experience of living through hundreds of deaths to my list of mental scars.
I gritted my teeth. I could take a little more if I had to. And I had to. A lot more people were going to die if we didn’t stop the enemy here.
I glanced aside at Mab and frowned.
Did she feel it, too? Her command of her subjects? Of . . . me?
Did she feel it when they died? Did she carry their pain, their rage, their terror, upon the back of her own soul, or whatever it was that passed for one now? Did she even have a soul anymore?

Battle Ground Chapter 18, Page 175


I didn’t see the enemy team holding our end of the bridge through the haze until they popped up from under cloaks like ghillie suits and opened fire. Angry wasps hissed through the air and someone hit me in the stomach with a baseball bat and drove the wind out of me.
For a second, I couldn’t tell what was happening. Some of my volunteers had raised their weapons and returned fire immediately, but most were confused. I knew the feeling. Getting shot at often confuses the hell out of me, and only training and experience allow you to respond with the kind of instant aggression necessary to counter that kind of surprise attack. I lifted my left arm, and only a lifetime of practice and dedication allowed me to bring up my shield through the pain.
Pain?
I looked down at my belly. There was no blood.
I felt a hit on my shoulder. Another on my cheekbone, even though nothing had touched my shield.
And then I got it.
My people were dying. I could feel it. Feel their pain. Their terror. Their confusion.
The air seethed with magical potential.

Battle Ground Chapter 25, Page 225