Tracking conversations

“She must cast down what I have wrought,” Mab said. “And she seeks to drive away my peers and allies by demonstrating my weakness—now, on the shortest night of the year, when my power is at its nadir.”
I looked over at the other side of the roof, where the Summer and Winter Ladies both stood in the center of a swarm of glowing, winged Little Folk that came streaking in and away in blurs of colored light. Both Molly and Sarissa had their eyes closed, and their lips were murmuring.

Battle Ground Chapter 6, Page 47-48


Molly hadn’t changed into mail and was still wearing the dive suit she’d had on at the kraken fight. She sat cross-legged, her back straight, her palms resting on her knees. Winter Fae, pixie-sized, but more savage and vicious-looking than my crew, hovered in a cloud around her, darting in and away with messages as she coordinated the movement of troops, I assumed.
She turned to look at me and I froze in place for a moment. It took her a couple of seconds to focus on me, her expression settled in the liquid serenity of deep focus. She spoke, her voice rich and sleepy-sensual. “What is it, my Knight?”
Her eyes had changed.
They were a deep, glacial blue-green. And her pupils had changed shape. They had become feline, like most of the Sidhe.
She blinked several times, focusing on me by degrees, coming up out of the state of concentration she’d been in, and as she did her eyes changed color again, lightening to their natural sky blue, pupils shifting back to circles. “Give me a second, Harry. I’m . . . tracking about two dozen conversations. . . .” Then she exhaled, sighed, scratched at the end of her nose, and said, “What can I do you for?”

Battle Ground Chapter 7, Page 60