Mab telepathy

Murphy looked back at me over her shoulder, then down at the bag, before turning her eyes back to the road. After a moment, she said, “My leg and arm don’t hurt anymore.”
Bob grunted. “Yeah. That’s Mab.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Mab. Preparing the field. What, you think she and Titania called up Tir na Nog and practiced against each other all those times for funsies? Mab’s extending psychic power to those fighting on her side. And at the same time, she’s making it more oppressive for her enemies.” Bob jiggled his chin back toward the ground we had lost. “Everything coming in from that side knows, not in its head but deep down in its guts, that it is entering the lair of a predator and that it’s never going home. Knows the odds are against it. Knows that every step forward brings it closer to death.”
“How do you know that?” Murphy asked.
“Because I’m one of the beings Her Most Royal Frozen Naughtybits considers an enemy,” Bob said brightly—but his voice had a brittle, tense undertone. “She’s doing it to me as we speak.”
Murphy glanced back, frowning. “And she’s healing her allies?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Bob said. “She’s just making it so you can’t feel the pain. She’ll blunt any non-useful terror you might feel, too. And she’ll encourage your aggressive tendencies. Like maybe enough so that someone who is too physically screwed up to be involved in fighting instead convinces her friends to help her and heads out into the war.”
Murphy snorted. “Yeah. There’s just no way I would have done that otherwise.”
I ran a quick mental inventory and found myself scowling. “How come she isn’t doing any of that for me, then?”
Bob gave me a disgusted look. “You’re the Winter freaking Knight. You get it all the time. Suck it up.”
Again the sky turned red. Again metal and concrete screamed and rumbled. There was too much dust in the sky now. I couldn’t see what had fallen—only the diffused glow of the power of the Eye and a slight thickening in the dusty cloud.
“Hell’s bells,” I complained. “How many shots does that thing have?”
“It’s being fueled by the city’s fear now, boss,” Bob said seriously. “It’ll run out when everyone’s dead. Which was the general idea, when it was created. That’s part of what Mab is trying to do, too. Dampen everyone’s fear. Rob the enemy of power.”
Butters leaned in to the conversation. “What happens if Mab keeps making things worse on the enemy?”
Bob let out a hysterical little cackle. “They go insane. I mean, obviously. It’s a psychic assault.”
Murphy gave me a sharp look. “So they have to stop her. If they don’t, they can’t meet their objective.”

Battle Ground Chapter 16, Page 157-158


Sanya’s chosen officers started calling out to their groups, and they began to spread out in a line, facing east. The officers weren’t being subtle about it. They physically shoved people into position. There were a lot of worried faces on that line. I could feel their fear, the kind that makes your limbs feel hollow and your forehead bead in a cold sweat.
But through the banner, I could also feel their determination, and the aggression radiating off that hideous unicorn that was seeping into them. They were terrified and furious and ready to spill blood.

Battle Ground Chapter 25, Page 223