"Very well, Uncle… Taranis." The moment I said it, there was more weight in the air. It was harder to breathe. He'd joined his name to the spell of attraction so that every time I said his name, it would bind me more tightly. That was against the rules. Duels had been fought over less between the sidhe in any court. But you did not challenge the king to a duel. One, he was king, and two, he'd once been among the greatest warriors the sidhe could boast. He might be diminished, but I was mortal, and I'd swallow any insult he tossed our way. Maybe he'd counted on that?
Doyle said, "We need a chair for our princess."
The lawyers brought a chair, apologizing for not thinking of it sooner. Magic can do that, make you forget what you're about. Make you forget the mundane things like chairs and that your legs get tired, until you realize that your body hurts and that you've been ignoring it. I sat down gratefully. I'd have worn lower heels if I'd known I'd be standing this much.
There was some confusion as I sat so that for a moment not all my men were touching me. Taranis was edged with golden light. Then the men settled into their places and he was ordinary again. All right, Taranis was as ordinary as he would ever be.
Frost stayed standing at my back with his hand on my shoulder. I'd expected Doyle to take his place at my back as well, but it was Rhys who stood at my other shoulder. Doyle knelt on the floor beside me, with one hand on my arm. Galen moved in front of me so that he sat tailor-fashion at my feet, leaning his back against my hose-covered legs. One of his hands moved up and down my calf, an idle gesture that would have been possessive in a human but might have simply been nerves in one of the fey. Abe knelt at my other side, mirroring Doyle. Well, not exactly mirroring. Doyle had one hand on the pommel of his short sword, his other hand quietly on mine. Abe's hand gripped my other hand, squeezing. If he'd been human I'd have said he was afraid. Then I realized that this might have been the first time since Taranis cast him out that he had seen his ex-king. Abe had never been one of Queen Andais's favorites, so he wouldn't have been included on the mirror calls between courts.
I leaned over enough so I could lay my cheek against his hair. Abe looked up, startled, as if he hadn't expected me to return his gestures. The queen was more for receiving than giving, in everything but pain. I gave his surprise a smile, and tried to tell him with my eyes that I was sorry I hadn't thought what seeing the king might mean for him this day.
"I must take part of the blame that you sit among them so happily, Meredith," Taranis said. "If you had only known the pleasure of a Seelie sidhe, you would never let them touch you again."
"Most of the sidhe around me now were once part of the Seelie Court," I said, simply leaving off his name. I wanted to know whether if I ceased to say "Uncle" he would try to get his name to pass my lips for some other made-up reason. I'd felt the pull of magic when I said his name.
"They have been nobles of the Unseelie Court for centuries, Meredith," Taranis said. "They have become twisted things, but you have nothing to compare them to, and that was a grave oversight on the part of the Seelie. I am most heartily sorry that we neglected you so. I would make it up to you."
"What do you mean, they are twisted things?" I asked. I thought I knew, but I'd learned not to jump to conclusions when I dealt with either court.
"Lady Caitrin has told of the horrors of their bodies. None of the three of them are powerful enough in glamour to hide their true selves during intimacies."
Biggs came to my side as if I'd asked. "The lady's statement is quite graphic, and reads more like a horror movie than anything else."
I looked at Doyle. "You read it?"
"I did," he said. He looked up at me, his eyes still lost behind the dark glasses.
"Did the lady in question accuse them of being deformed?" I asked.
"Yes," he said.
I had a thought. "The same way the ambassador saw you all."
Doyle gave the smallest movement of the corner of his mouth, hidden from the mirror. I knew what that almost smile meant. I was right, and he thought I was on the right track. Okay, if I was on the right track, where was this little train going?
"How deformed did the lady say they were in her statement?" I asked.
"So much so that no human woman would survive an attack," Biggs said.
I frowned at him. "I don't understand."
"It is the old wives' tale," Doyle said, "that the Unseelie have bone and spikes on their lower members."
"Oh," I said, but strangely, that rumor had a basis. The sluagh, Sholto's kingdom within our court, had had nightflyers. They looked like manta rays with tentacles that dangled, but they could fly like bats. They were the flying hounds of the sluagh's wild hunt. A royal nightflyer carried a bony spine inside his member that stimulated ovulation in female nightflyers. It also proved that you were of royal nightflyer heritage, because only they could make the females give up their eggs so that they could be fertilized. Rape by a royal nightflyer might have given rise to the old faerie horror story. Sholto's father had been one of the nonroyals, because his sidhe mother hadn't needed the spine to make her ovulate. He'd been a surprise baby in many ways. He was gorgeously, wonderfully sidhe, except for some extra bits here and there. Mostly there.