Now to find a way to word my questions that wouldn’t offend him or cause him to cut me off. “What types of fae are members of the shadow court?”
His brow crinkled. Not confusion, more like bafflement that I’d ask such a stupid question. “Like any court, all types of fae make up our kingdom. The nobles are of course Sleagh Maith, though admittedly, we have fewer than we once did . . .”
“Because you lost some power when the realm of nightmares was severed from the court?”
Again, I’d surprised him, but he didn’t look displeased that I knew this fact. “Quite so. With no physical doors like the seasonal courts, the shadow court and the light court rely directly on mortal imaginations. The shadow primarily through mortal’s dreams and nightmares and light primarily through mortal creativity and flights of fancy, daydreams. Without the realm of dreams we are . . . weaker than we should be.”
It sounded more like they’d been forcibly crippled, but I didn’t point that out.
“Hopefully that will be repaired soon and we will be returned to our former glory.”
Interesting. I wanted to ask how, but we were getting off topic. Faeries were notoriously secretive. While I had him talking, I needed to keep this conversation on point.
“Are there many bogeymen in the shadow court?”
He nodded. “We tend to be an ideal court for those who like to lurk in darkness.”
Which was exactly what I’d been expecting. Now for the tricky part. “If I described two bogeymen to you, do you think you’d be able to tell me if they are part of your court?”
“Perhaps,” Dugan said, but the suspicion was clear in the tightness of his eyes, the thinning line of his mouth. “Why?”
Moment of truth. If I refused to tell him why I wanted to know, he’d likely end this conversation here and now. But if I told him too much? I didn’t know. The Winter Queen was more than willing to drag me to Faerie against my will if she could claim it was for my own protection. I had some value to the shadow court and clearly to Dugan in particular. If he knew two fae had tried to kill or capture me, would he summon the planebender and haul me off to the dark halls of his court?
“I . . . had an encounter today with what I believe were two bogeymen. One was a hobgoblin. The other, well, I’m not sure what type of fae she was. She looked like a much scarier version of a nature spirit.”
Dugan’s eyes widened, his gaze searching my face. I worked hard at keeping my face neutrally pleasant, studying him right back, looking for some sign he might grab me and try to force me to his court. An array of small micro expressions swarmed over his face, but I didn’t know him well enough to read them. Finally he seemed to come to some conclusion and held up his hand, palm toward me so I could see the blood gathered there.
“My oath, neither your uncle nor I sent any of our people to harm or threaten you. I know nothing of this encounter.”
Great, he’d jumped to defensive. “I never said you did. I’m just trying to identify them. If I describe them, do you think you’ll recognize them?”
He frowned at me. “Perhaps, but I make no promises. I may only be able to guess what manner of fae they are and not be able to name the individuals themselves.”
That was better than nothing. Certainly more than I had now.
I described the woman first, detailing everything I could remember from her height to her strange sludge-and-algae-filled hair to her green pointed teeth. By the time I finished, Dugan’s features had darkened, his jaw clenched, but he motioned for me to continue. I described the hobgoblin next with his peculiar dripping hat and overwide features, and even the blowpipe he’d used that had resembled a hollowed bone.
Dugan stood and paced before the stone bench, one hand clasped on the sword hilt at his side. “What manner of encounter did you have with these two?”
“They crashed my friend’s wedding.” I left out the fact they’d taken a shot at me.
“I must speak to the king about this,” he said, turning to where the planeweaver waited.
I jumped to my feet. “Do you know them? Do you know their court? Their names?”
“Names do not have the power told of in the old legends, little planeweaver.”
No, maybe not, but a name would at least give me more information for my investigation. It would make researching the pair easier and questioning people more targeted. I stood there, my arms crossed, my expression expectant. I wasn’t going to say please and indebt myself to him—I doubted I could afford whatever favor he would claim if I did—but I needed this information.
He pursed his lips, one hand still on his weapon, but after a moment he said, “I cannot be certain, but most of the bogeymen are rather unique. The belief in the tales told of them reshapes them until they are unlike others of their kind. So, my guesses are likely good. It sounds like the woman is a hag known as Jenny Greenteeth, who once gobbled up small children who ventured where they shouldn’t. The other a hobgoblin name Tommy Rawhead who hid under stairways and ate naughty children. They were both once part of our court, but left after our influence began to wane. I do not know who holds their allegiance now. If you ‘encounter’ them again, I suggest you stay away. They are of a nasty sort and I do not wish to see you harmed. Now, I must return to my court. I hope that you will meet me here again.” He gave me a small bow, and with a twirl of his cape strode across the room toward the planebender, who’d already opened a darkened hole of a doorway. Both vanished a moment later.