impervious to so much, but I'd learned that he was really one of the most easily wounded of the guards.
"A brownie is a useful member of faerie. They have a long and respected history. The demi-fey are parasites. I agree with Galen: they are animals."
I wondered what else Frost would say that about. What other members of faerie would he dismiss out of hand?
"Nothing is redundant in faerie," Doyle said. "Everything has its purpose and its place."
"And what purpose do the demi-fey serve?" Frost asked.
"I believe that they are the essence of faerie. If they were to leave, the Unseelie Court would begin to fade even faster than it already is."
I nodded, getting up to put my own bowl in the sink. "My father believed it was so, and I haven't found much that my father believed turn out to be false."
"Essus was a very wise man," Doyle said.
"Yes," I said, "he was."
Galen took the bowl from my hands. "I'll clean up."
"You made dinner. You shouldn't have to clean up, too."
"I'm not much good for anything else right now." He smiled when he said it, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
I let him take the bowl so I could touch his face. "I'll do what I can, Galen."
"That's what I'm afraid of," he said softly. "I don't want you to put yourself in debt to Niceven, not for me. It's not a good enough reason to owe that creature anything."
I frowned and turned to the room at large. "Why call her creature? I don't remember the demi-fey's reputation being this bad before I left the court."
"Niceven's court has become little more than the queen's errand runners, or Cel's. You cannot retain respect if you have been regulated to a threat and nothing more."
"I don't understand. What threat? You've all been saying that the demi-fey are no threat."
"I have not said that," Doyle said, "but what the demi-fey did to Galen was not the first time it has been done, though this time was more... severe. More flesh was taken than I'd seen before."
Galen turned away at that and began to busy himself at the sink, rinsing out the bowls, placing them in the dishwasher. He seemed to be making more noise than was necessary, as if he didn't want to hear the conversation anymore.
"You know that crossing the queen can get you sent to the Hallway of Mortality to be tortured by Ezekiel and his redcaps."
"Yes."
"Now she will sometimes threaten us with being given to the demi-fey. In effect, Niceven's court, once a court of faerie with all the respect and ceremonies of any court, has been reduced to nothing more than another boggle to be dragged out of the dark and sent to torment others."
"The sluagh are not merely boggles," I said, "and they have a court with their own customs. They have been one of the greatest threats in the Unseelie arsenal for a thousand years."
"Much longer than a mere thousand years," Doyle said.
"But they have retained their threat, their customs, their power."
"The sluagh are what remain of the original Unseelie Court. They were Unseelie before there was such a term. It was not they who joined us, but we who joined them. Though there are very few among us now who remember that, or who will admit to remembering it."
Frost spoke. "I hold with those who say that the sluagh are the essence of the Unseelie Court, and if they leave, we will fade. It is they, and not the demi-fey, who hold our most primitive power."
"No one knows for certain," Doyle said.
"I don't think the Queen would chance finding out," Rhys said.
"No," Doyle said.
"Which means that the demi-fey are in a position similar to the sluagh," I said.
Doyle looked at me. "Explain." The sudden full weight of that dark gaze made me want to squirm, but I resisted. I wasn't a child anymore to be frightened of the tall dark man at my aunt's side.
"The queen would do almost anything to keep the sluagh on her side, and at her beck and call, but wouldn't the same be said for the demi-fey? If she truly fears that their leaving would make the Unseelie decline even faster than they are already, then wouldn't she do almost anything to keep them at her court?"
Doyle stared at me for what seemed a long time, then finally he gave one long blink. "Perhaps." He leaned toward me, clasping his hands on the nearly empty table. "Galen and Frost are