Free Sons (Book 2) by Scott V. Duff

complexities involved here?  Is it something that requires a middle-aged mind?”  Fuller was still lost, but he was able to cut away a large number of limbs from the decision tree of his options.  He smiled suddenly, realizing the word game I’d caught him in.  His references to my age weren’t impolite per se , but they were jockeying for position on a track that I didn’t even want to be on. 
    “I believe I see Cliff’s point,” he murmured.
    “And you are smiling,” I said.
    “But isn’t that exactly what you did?” Phillips persisted.  “With that single display, you cowed Faery, both Courts.  There were no reprisals.”
    “I wouldn’t say that, Mr. Phillips,” I said, turning back.  “It would be fairer to say that there have been no reprisals yet .  And I seriously doubt that I ‘cowed Faery.’  Certainly defeating one of most powerful had more weight than merely tossing two around a little.”
    Another round of servers rushed through the dining room, serving another course for dinner.  Good, I was beginning to get a little worried about the food.
    “The way Cahill and Harris described your first meeting with the Fae after defeating MacNamara certainly appeared to be a display of power,” Fuller said confidently.
    “And it most definitely was, on all three sides,” I agreed.  “Cahill did an excellent job there, too.  Felix and Enid are quite understandably proud of him for it.”  I watched Fuller as he cycled through the possibilities of who was manning the Castle’s defenses to come up with an answer.
    “But Gordon was…” he whispered.
    “With me, yes, I know,” I whispered back.  “Young or not, you do what you have to do.”  More loudly, I said, “But even then, I didn’t use power so much as attitude.  Peter used more power than I did.  I mostly just ‘out-snottied’ them.”  A small laugh cascaded around the room.  “And officially, that never happened and even though the incursion taught us a few things, we have to accept that fact and act accordingly.”
    A server slipped in behind me, removing the plate in front of me.  Seconds later, another slipped in a salad, thinly sliced Roma tomatoes between equally thin white goat cheese on a bed of torn green leaf lettuce and radicchio with a balsamic vinaigrette dressing.  I’d have to remember to ask Peter if these people ate normal food.  If not, I’d need to eat before coming out to dinner again.  I’d starve otherwise.
    “And trust me when I say that you do not want to see the extent of the Queens’ power when they’re angry,” I said, thinking back to watching them stand by that oak tree, impatient but waiting for me to leave the arena.  By then lower case letters sufficed.  “Their ferocity is not easily forgotten.  I do not wish to fight with them.”
    “So MacNamara was not their equal?” Fuller asked.
    “Hmm, I haven’t considered that question,” I said.  “At least in the sense you’re asking it.  Ehran, what do you think?”  Kieran was a little startled I pulled him into our conversation but he rolled with it admirably.
    “There are several differences between them that make defining equality difficult,” Kieran said, sitting back in his chair to see Fuller around the podium on the table.  “In the Arena where Seth and he fought and when they fought, it would be safe to say the Rat Bastard and the Queens were fairly equal at that point.”
    Fuller looked between us, eyebrows arched high in question as he decided which to ask in what order and calculating how far he could go.  He decided to start with Kieran, probably thinking it a safer route.  He may have been right.
    “What differences?  And won’t Seth also suffer from them?” Fuller asked.
    “They are in the manner in which Fae magic flows and affects the universe,” Kieran explained, turning in his chair completely.  “The Queens are completely vested in their power and with their realm.  Likely at a