The two of them drew Nelson back from the mirror. She didn't fight them, but her face stayed upturned to Taranis's form as he sat above us all. That was interesting. I hadn't realized before that something about the mirror's perspective put him slightly higher than us. Of course, he was on his throne in the actual throne room. He was on a dais. He was, literally, looking down on us. The fact that I had only now realized that told me clearly that whatever spell he was throwing at me was having some effect. I was at the very least not noticing the obvious.
"You are breaking human law," Doyle said, "by using magic against them."
"I will not speak to the monsters of the queen's guard."
"Then speak to me, Uncle," I said. "You are breaking the law by the magic you are casting. You must stop it, or this interview is over."
"I swear by any oath you choose," Taranis said, "that I am not deliberately using magic on any full-blooded human in this room."
It was a pretty bit of lying, so close to the truth that it wasn't a lie at all. I laughed. Frost and Abe started, as if the sound hadn't been what they had expected. "Oh, Uncle, will you also take any oath of my choosing that you are not trying to bespell me?"
He gave me every ounce of that handsome, manly face, but the beard sort of ruined it for me. I wasn't a fan of facial hair, but that could be because I grew up at Andais's court. For whatever reason, the queen's wish that her men not have beards and such had become a reality. Most of them couldn't have grown a good beard if they'd wanted to. Sometimes the queen's wish becomes reality in faerie, I'd seen the truth of that old saying in faerie for myself. I could police my words aloud, but when my very thoughts could become real, that had been terrifying. I was glad to be out of faerie and back to a more solid reality, where I could think what I liked and not have to worry about it becoming real.
I thought my own thoughts while Taranis pushed at me with his face, his eyes, the fantastic color of his hair. He pushed the spell he'd conjured at me. It was like a weight on the air, a thickness on my tongue, as if the very air was trying to become what he willed it. He was in faerie, and perhaps there, at his court, it would have worked exactly like that. Whatever he wanted from me, I might have been forced to give him. But I was in Los Angeles, not in faerie, and I was very glad to be here. Glad, to be surrounded by man-made steel, concrete, and glass. There were fey who would have suffered illness simply by stepping into such a building. My human blood let me be unaffected. My men were sidhe, and that was also sterner stuff.
"Meredith, Meredith, come to me." He actually held his hand out to me, as if he would reach through the mirror and fetch me. Some of the sidhe could do just that. I didn't think Taranis was one of them.
Doyle stood, wrapping one hand around mine, but standing feet apart, free hand loose at his side. I knew that stance. He was giving himself room to draw a weapon. It would almost have to be a gun because I had the hand he would have needed for the sword at his side.
Frost moved a little farther from the back of my chair, his hand still loosely on my shoulder. I didn't have to look at him to know that he was doing his own version of Doyle's preparations.
Galen stood up, which broke his contact with me. Taranis was suddenly edged with golden light. His eyes glowed with all the heat of green growing things. I started to rise from my chair. Rhys's hand pressed me down so that I couldn't move.
Doyle said, "Galen."
Galen went back to one knee, so he could touch my leg. The touch was enough. The glow faded, and the compulsion to stand faded. "This is a problem," I said.
Abe leaned against my other arm, causing his long striped hair to pool around the chair. He laughed, that warm masculine sound. "Merry, Merry, you need more men. It seems to be a theme with you."