"And who holds the reins of the sluagh?" I asked.
She looked uncertain, but said, at last, "The Queen."
"The sluagh can be sent to punish certain crimes without a trial or a warning. One of those crimes is kin slaying."
"That is not often enforced," she said.
"But if Taranis killed the queen's heir, don't you think she'd remember that little law?"
"Even Andais would not dare send the sluagh after the king."
"And I say again, that even the king would not dare slay Andais's heir."
"I think you are wrong on that, Meredith, for this he might dare."
"And for that crime, Andais might loose the sluagh on him. Even the King of Light and Illusion would have no choice but to run from them."
She took the drink off the tray that the maid still held near at hand. She took a deep drink before saying, "I do not believe that the King would think that clearly about this. I... I would not be the cause of war between the courts." She took another drink. "I have wished for Taranis's arrogance to be punished over the years, but not by the sluagh. I would not wish that on anyone, not even him."
Having been chased by the sluagh myself, I could agree that they were terrible. But they weren't as bad as all that. At least the sluagh would simply kill you -- maybe eat you alive -- but you'd be dead. There would be no torture, no long, slow death. There were worse deaths than to fall to the sluagh.
And I knew something that Maeve could not know. The sluagh's king, Sholto, Lord of That Which Passes Between, called Shadow-spawn, but never to his face, had no great loyalty to Andais, or to anyone else for that matter. He kept his word, but Andais had let her politics slide for a few years, and now she depended heavily, too heavily, on the threat of the sluagh. They'd been meant to be the threat of last resort. I'd learned in talking with Doyle and Frost that the sluagh had become a much-used weapon. That was not what they were meant for, and it showed great weakness on Andais's part that she used them too often.
But Maeve did not know this. No one at the Seelie Court knew, unless there were spies, which, come to think upon it, there probably were; but Maeve didn't know it.
"Do you really think that the King will learn that we spoke together?" I asked.
"I don't know for certain, but he is a god, or was once. I fear he will discover us."
"Fine, I want to know why you were exiled -- but you want something from me, as well. You want something that you would risk your very life for. What could that be, Maeve? What could be that important to you?"
She leaned forward, robe still closed tight. She leaned forward until I could smell the cocoa butter from her skin and the harsh rum on her breath. She whispered against my ear, "I want a child."
I stayed leaning in, shoulders almost touching with Maeve, because I didn't want her to see my face. A child? She wanted a child? Why tell me? I'd thought of a lot of things Maeve Reed could want; a baby had not been on the list.
I finally looked at her. "What would you have of me, Maeve?" That was the question.
She sat back in her chair, settling with a small wriggling movement that reminded me of her old teasing. "I have told you what I would have of you, Meredith."
I stared at her, frowning. "I know what you said, Maeve, but I don't see ..." I tried again. "I don't know how I can help you." I put a little emphasis on the I because I had thought of one thing I had that she might need. I had the men.
She looked around at the men, all the men, her bodyguards included. "You can understand now why I would want privacy for this discussion, can't you?" There was a small thread of pleading in her voice.
I sighed. I wanted to be politically savvy. I wanted to be cautious. But I did understand why she desired privacy. Some things supersede politics, your side, my side, and one of those is the plea of woman-to-woman. Maeve had given that plea, silently, but it was still there. Mother help me, but I couldn't pretend ignorance.
"All right," I said.
Maeve put her head to one side. "All right to what?"
"Privacy."
I felt both Doyle and Frost move behind me. They didn't truly move, not a step, but they tensed so hard it was almost a jump.
"Princess," Doyle began.
"It's all right, Doyle. You and the rest of the men can sit under the umbrella while we have our girl talk."
Maeve frowned, her pale pink lipsticked mouth pouting prettily. She was definitely regaining her composure. Or maybe she'd spent so many years as Maeve Reed, sex goddess, that she didn't know how else to behave.