I’m one of those readers who has, for all of my life, taken stories at face value. Which I suppose contributes to my failure as a member of bookclubs: because I was never able or desirous of finding meanings within stories, subtle or otherwise.
Why mesmered? I need to explain the meaning of the word . . . a meaning you won’t find in any dictionary.
Mesmer is a form of enchantment used by the fey. No shouted spells, no wands flashing. Just a smooth glissade of the hand across the air, almost indetectable. Whatever the mesmerer wants to happen happens. It could be sending someone to sleep, or stopping a dagger in mid-flight and turning it on itself so it begins a return journey to the thrower, remorseless in its progress. Or it could be as fatal as the death-mesmer: – on the swipe of a hand, there is a silvered sound as if a sword is being withdrawn from a scabbard. A swish through the air from nowhere and a fatal thrust . . . always fatal. The fey don’t often use this as they aren’t essentially a violent race, merely a race of individuals who are forever looking for entertainment with no thought for those they may injure in the process. Compassion is an undeveloped emotion in most of the fey.