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I opened my eyes cautiously. He was still as bright, but the light didn't move and flow so rapidly. It was as if he'd slowed down the play of light, and his face was not quite as dazzling. I could see more of the outline of his jaw, but there was still no hint of the beard that I knew he wore. His golden waves were more solid, less radiant. I knew what color his hair was, and this wasn't it. But at least it didn't make my head spin to look at him anymore.
Well, except for the eyes. He'd kept his eyes that swimming blue play of light and water. I smiled, and asked, "Where are those beautiful green eyes that I remember from childhood? I had looked forward to seeing them again. Or has my memory deceived me and it is some other sidhe's eyes that I thought were yours? These eyes were the green of emeralds, the green of summer leaves, the green of deep, still water in a shaded pool."
The men had given me tips on dealing with Taranis, from centuries of doing it themselves and seeing the queen do it. Tip number one had been: You never went wrong flattering Taranis; if it was sweet to the ears, he tended to believe it. Especially if a woman said it.
He gave a musical chuckle, and his eyes were suddenly just as lovely as I remembered them from childhood. It was as if the huge iris of his eye was a flower with many, many petals, each one green, but different shades of green, some edged with white, some with black. Until I'd seen Maeve Reed's true eyes, I'd thought that Taranis's eyes were the prettiest sidhe eyes I'd ever seen.
I was able to give him a true smile. "Yes, your eyes are as beautiful as I remember them."
He finally appeared as a being formed of golden light with brighter gold hair in waves around his shoulders. His green eyes seemed almost to float atop that golden light like flowers riding on water. The eyes were real, as extraordinary as they were, but the rest was not. If you had tried to take a photo of him now, you'd have gotten those eyes and just a blur. Modern cameras don't like that much magic being pointed in their direction.
"Greetings, Princess Meredith, Princess of Flesh, or so I hear. Congratulations. It is a truly frightening power. It will make the sidhe of the Unseelie Court think more than twice about challenging you to a duel." His voice had calmed to an almost normal, though lovely sound.
"It is good to be protected at last."
I think he frowned. It was difficult to tell through all the glory in his face. "I sorrow that you had such a dangerous time of it in the dark court. I assure you that at the Seelie Court you would not find life so difficult."
I blinked, and fought to keep my face pleasant. I remembered what life at the Seelie Court had been for me, and difficult didn't begin to sum it up. I had been quiet too long, because the king said, "If you would come to our feast in your honor, I can guarantee that you will find it pleasant and most fair."
I took a deep breath, let it out, smiled. "I am most honored at the invitation, King Taranis. A feast in my honor at the Seelie Court is a most unexpected surprise."
"A pleasant one, I hope," and he laughed, and the laugh was again that ringing joyous sound. I had to smile when I heard it. The sound even pulled a laugh from my own lips.
"Oh, most pleasant, Your Highness." I meant it when I said it. Of course it was pleasant to be invited by this glowing man with the extraordinary eyes to a feast in my honor among the beautiful, shining court. Nothing could be better than that.
I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath, then held it for a few heartbeats, while Taranis kept talking in a progressively more beautiful voice. I concentrated on my breathing, not his voice. I felt my breath, the ebb and flow of my body. I concentrated on just drawing air in and letting it out, on controlling it, feeling my body pull it inside me, then holding it until it was almost painful not to exhale, finally letting the air trickle slowly out.
I heard Doyle's voice moving smoothly into the silence I'd left. I caught pieces of it as I performed the breathing exercise and began to be aware of what was outside my own body again.
"The princess is overawed by your presence, King Taranis. She is, after all, a relative child. It is difficult to face such power unaffected."
Doyle had been the one who warned me that Taranis was so good at personal glamour that he used it routinely against other sidhe. And no one told him it was illegal, because he was the king and most feared him. Feared him too much to point out that he was cheating. It had been Doyle's warning that had prepared me to do the breathing exercise rather than try to be brave and tough it out. I'd spent most of my life around beings that had better persuading glamour than I did, so I'd learned how to break free of it. Sometimes it required me to do things that were noticeable, like the breathing. Most sidhe would rather have been bespelled than show just how hard they found it to withstand another sidhe's power. I had never been able to afford that kind of pride.
I opened my eyes slowly, blinking until I felt myself slide more firmly into the here and now. I smiled. "My apologies, King Taranis, but Doyle is correct. I am a touch overwhelmed by your glowing presence."
He smiled. "My most sincere apologies, Meredith. I do not mean to cause you discomfort."
He probably didn't, but he wanted me to come to his little party. He wanted that badly enough to try to "persuade" me magically.
I wanted so badly to simply ask why it was so important that I come to his little soiree. But Taranis knew exactly who had raised me, and no one ever accused my father of being less than polite. Direct sometimes, but always polite. I couldn't pretend to be an ignorant human, as I had with Maeve Reed. He'd know better. The problem was, without direct questions, I wasn't sure how to learn what I needed to know.
But it didn't matter. The King was far too busy trying to bewitch me to worry about anything else.
I didn't try to match glamour with one of the greatest illusionists the courts have ever birthed. I tried truth first. "I remember your hair like a sunset woven into waves. So many sidhe have golden-yellow hair, but only you have the colors of the setting sun." I did a pretty little frown, an expression that women have been using for centuries to good effect. "Or do I misremember? Most of my memories of you when you were not clothed in glamour are from a child's memory. Perhaps I only dreamed of such color, such beauty."
I wouldn't have fallen for it; none of my guards would have believed it; Andais would have slapped me for such obvious manipulation. But none of us had known the social coddling that Taranis had grown accustomed to. He'd had centuries of people speaking to him just like that, or even sweeter. If all you ever hear is how wondrous you are, how lovely, how perfect, is it really anyone's fault that you begin to believe it? If you believe it, then it no longer seems silly or manipulative. It seems like the truth. The true secret was that I did think that his honest form was more attractive than the light show. I was being honest, and flattering. It could be a powerful combination.
It was as if the golden waves were twisted, carved into individual locks of hair, so that his true hair didn't simply appear all at once but was brought slowly into view, like a striptease. His true color was that crimson that sunsets can have, as if the entire sky is filled with neon blood. But woven through were locks of that red-orange that sometimes happens when the sun is just sinking below the horizon, as if the sun itself had been crushed across the sky. A few strands of hair played throughout, like the yellow of the sun drawn down to threads that winked and shimmered through the more solid waves of his hair.
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. I had not lied when I'd said his natural color was more spectacular than the illusion had been.