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 night-flyer 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.
“King Taranis,” I said, and again his name pulled at me, like a hand tugging for attention. I took a deep breath and relaxed into the weight of Rhys and Frost at my back, my hands on Doyle and Abe. Galen seemed to sense what was needed because he slid his arm between my calves, so that he wrapped himself around one of my legs, and forced both my legs apart a little wider so he could cuddle more tightly. There were very few of my guards who would have been willing to look so submissive in front of Taranis. I valued the few who were more willing to be close to me than to keep up appearances.
I tried again. “King of Light and Illusion, are you saying that my three guards are so monstrous that to lay with them is painful and horrible?”
“Lady Caitrin says that it is so,” he said. He had settled back into his throne. It was huge and golden, and was the only thing that had not changed when his illusions were stripped away. He sat on what would cost, even today, a king’s ransom.
“You said that my men could not maintain their illusion of beauty during intimacies, is that correct?”
“The Unseelie have not the power of illusion that the Seelie possess.” He sat more comfortably on his throne, legs spread as some men do, as if to draw attention to their masculinity.
“So when I make love to them, I see them as they truly are?”
“You are part human, Meredith. You do not have the power of a true sidhe. I am sorry to say that, but it is well known that your magic is weak. They have fooled you, Meredith.”
Each time he said my name, the air was a little thicker. Galen’s hand slid up my leg until he found the top of my thigh-high hose, and could finally touch bare skin. The touch made me close my eyes for a moment, but it cleared my head. Once, what Taranis had said
J. S. Cooper, Helen Cooper