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"Does this suit you better, Meredith?" His voice was rich enough to touch, as if I could have grabbed handfuls of it and clutched it to my body. I couldn't quite figure out what it would feel like in my arms, but something thick, sweet, maybe. Like covering yourself in cotton candy, all air and spun sugar, something to melt and grow sticky.
I jerked back to myself when Doyle touched my shoulder. Taranis had been using more than simple glamour. Glamour changes the appearance of something, but you still have the choice of accepting it or not. Glamour might make a dry leaf appear to be a sweet bit of cake, and you are more likely to eat the cake illusion than the dry leaf of fact; but you must still choose to eat it. The glamour changes only the experience. It doesn't make your choice to accept it.
What Taranis had just done would try to make my choice for me. "Did you just ask me something, Your Highness?"
"He did," Doyle said, and his voice reminded me of dark, thick, sweet things, like honeyed mead done nearly black. I realized that a touch of glamour made me think that. But Doyle wasn't trying to control me; he was trying to help me fight against the King's power.
"I asked if you would do me the honor of attending a feast in your honor."
"I am honored that you would go to such trouble, Your Highness. I would be more than happy to attend such a function in a month or so. Things are so busy right now, Yule preparations and all, you know. I do not have a cadre of servants to make my plans go as smoothly as yours." I smiled, but inside I was screaming at him. How dare he try to manipulate me like I was some befuddled human or lesser fey. This was not the way you treated an equal. I shouldn't have been surprised. All along his treatment of me had been shabby, at best. He didn't see me as an equal. Why should he treat me as one?
I could turn my hair a different color, tan my skin, make small changes to my appearance. I was a master of that kind of glamour. But I had nothing that would keep me safe from the immense power Taranis was so casually throwing at me.
What did I do better than Taranis? I had the hand of flesh, and he didn't, but that was something that could only kill, and only by touch. I didn't want to kill him, just keep him at bay.
His sweet voice continued. "I would very much enjoy your company before Yule."
Doyle's hand tightened on my shoulder. I reached up to touch his hand, and the feel of his skin helped steady me. What did I do better than Taranis?
I moved my hand so that Doyle wrapped his fingers around mine. His hand was very real, very solid. It was as if the touch of his hand helped push back that heavy voice and shining beauty.
"I would hate to say no to Your Highness, but surely the visit could wait until after Yule."
His power pushed at me in a nearly raw wave. If it had been fire, I would have burst into flames; if it had been water, I would have drowned; but it was persuasion, almost a type of seduction, and I could no longer remember why I didn't want to go to the Seelie Court. Of course I would go.
A sudden movement stopped me from saying yes. Doyle had sat down behind me, putting his legs on either side of my body so that I was cradled against him. His hand stayed pressed against mine. It stopped me from saying yes, but it wasn't enough. The press of his skin against my hand was still more precious to me than his entire clothed body against me.
I reached out blindly, and Frost found my hand. He squeezed it, and that helped, too.
I looked back at the mirror. Taranis was still a shining thing, beautiful like a work of art, but he was not the kind of beauty that made my pulse race. It was almost as if he was trying too hard for me to take him seriously. He looked a little ridiculous in his shining mask and his clothes made of sunlight.
His power surged again, like a warm slap in my face. "Come to me, Meredith. Come to me in three days, and I will show you a feast the likes of which you have never seen."
The opening door saved me that time. It was Galen. He stared at Doyle on the bed and Frost holding my hand. "You called, Doyle?"
I hadn't heard Doyle say anything. I think I couldn't hear anything but the king's voice for a moment or two.
I found my voice; it was thin and breathy. "Send in Kitto. Just as he is, please."
Galen raised his eyebrows at that but gave a quick bow, unseen from the mirror, and fetched the goblin. I'd worded my request purposefully. Kitto wore very few clothes when he curled in his hidey-hole. I wanted skin touching mine, and I didn't want to ask the guards to strip.
Kitto came into the room wearing nothing but his short-shorts; from Taranis's view he would probably look nude. Let him think what he wished.
Kitto shot a questioning look at Doyle and me. He was careful not to look in the mirror. I placed Doyle's hand against the side of my neck and held out my free hand to Kitto. He came to me without question. His small hand wrapped around mine, and I pulled him to the floor so that he sat at my feet. I pulled him in against my bare legs. I had worn no hose, only purple open-toed sandals to match my dress.
Kitto curled his body around my legs, and the warm brush of his skin on mine, the feel of his hands, his arms around my bare legs underneath the skirt steadied me.
I began to realize a method behind the madness when Andais spoke to the Seelie Court covered in naked bodies. I'd always assumed she did it as a sly insult to Taranis, but now I wasn't so sure. Maybe the insult began with the king, and not the queen.
"I thank you for the honor you do me, Taranis, but I ca
Doyle finally figured out that I was after skin, because he kept his hands busy on my neck, caressing the parts of my shoulders and arms that showed. Normally, the feel of his hands ru
The king lashed at me with his power, fashioning it into a whip that hurt even as it felt good. It tore a gasp from my throat, and I would have flung myself at the mirror, even cried yes, if I could have spoken, if I could have moved. In that one desperate moment, three things happened: Doyle laid a gentle kiss on my neck, Kitto licked the back of my knee, and Frost sat down on the bed to raise my hand to his mouth.
The touch of their mouths were three anchors that kept me from slipping away. Frost slipped to the floor on the other side from Kitto and slid my finger into his mouth, perhaps to hide his actions from Taranis. I wasn't sure, and I did not care. The feel of his mouth was like a velvet glove around my flesh.
I let out a shaking breath -- and I could think again, a little. Doyle ran his fingers from the base of my skull to the top of my head, kneading along my scalp under my hair. What should have been terribly distracting cleared my mind.
"I have tried to be polite, Taranis, but you have been as blunt with your magic as I am about to be with my words. Why is it so important that you see me at all, let alone before Yule?"
"You are my kinswoman. I wish to renew our acquaintance. Yule is a time of coming together."
"You have barely acknowledged my existence most of my life. Why do you care to renew our relationship now?"
His power seemed to fill the room, as if I were trying to breathe something more solid than air. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't see. The world was narrowing down to light; light was everywhere.
A sharp pain brought me back so abruptly that I screamed. Kitto had bitten my leg like a dog trying to get my attention, but it had worked. I reached down and stroked his face. "This interview is over, Taranis. You are being unaccountably rude. No sidhe does this to another sidhe, only to the lesser fey."