"Neither do I."
"Do you really believe that the queen would punish her own son if he drove us away, rather than take out her anger on us?" She had crossed her legs again, arms folded over her chest, forgetting to flirt, forgetting to be regal in her fear.
"Where is Cel now?" I asked.
Niceven giggled, a most unpleasant little giggle. "Being punished for six months. There are bets going round that his sanity will not survive six months of isolation and torment."
I shrugged. "He should have thought of that before he was such a bad, bad boy."
"You are flippant, but if Cel comes out insane, it will be your name that he screams. Your face that he wants to smash."
"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."
"What?"
"It's a human saying. It means that I'll deal with the problem when and if it comes to pass."
She seemed to be thinking very hard, then said, "How would you offer this blood to me? I do not think either of us would relish a weekly trip between faerie and the Western Sea."
"I could put it upon a piece of bread, and the essence could be sent to you via magic."
She shook her head, ghostly curls bouncing around narrow shoulders. "The essence is never the same."
"What do you suggest?"
"If I send one of my people to you, they could act as my surrogate."
I thought about it for a moment, feeling Frost's stillness, hearing the heavy, almost tearing sound of Rhys pulling the brush through Doyle's hair. "Agreed. Tell me the cure for my knight and send your surrogate."
She laughed, off-key bells ringing. "No, Princess, you will gain the cure from the lips of my surrogate. If I give it to you now before I have been paid, you may think better of it."
"I have given you my word. I cannot go back upon it now."
"I have dealt with the great of faerie for too long to believe that everyone keeps their word."
"It is one of our most stringent laws," I said. "To be forsworn is to be outcast."
"Unless you have friends in very high places who make sure such tales are never spread."
"What are you saying, Queen Niceven?"
"I say only this, that the queen doth love her son much, and has broken more than one taboo to keep him safe."
We stared at each other, and I knew without asking that Cel had made promises and broken them. That alone should have made him outcast and certainly denied him the right to any throne. Andais had always spoiled Cel, but I never realized just how much.
"When can we expect your surrogate?" I asked.
She seemed to consider this, reaching an idle hand out toward where the mouse was crouched. It crept close to her, its long whiskers twitching, ears alert, as if it still wasn't sure of its welcome. She stroked it gently. "A few days," she said.
"We are not always at home to welcome visitors. I would be loath to have your envoy receive less than our best hospitality."
"Leave a pot of flowers by your door and that will sustain him."
"Him?"
"I believe a him would please you more, would it not?"
I gave a small nod, because I wasn't sure I cared. I was sharing blood, not sex, so I didn't have a preference; or at least I didn't think I did. "I am sure the Queen is wise in her choosing."