“Because the Banra-Sheagh has commanded you to come before her.” When Phasmoria grimaced, I realized this wasn’t exactly a good thing.
“Me? How does she even know about me?” I was thoroughly confused now. I knew the Light and Dark Fae—who had evolved from the Ante-Fae and were technically our descendants—had their twin courts. But I had no clue about a governing council of the Ante-Fae.
“Unfortunately, your grandfather—Dougal, Curikan’s father—still communicates with the court. I believe that he put the bug in her ear.” My mother leaned back, crossing her legs. She swept her hair back into a ponytail and wrapped an elastic hair tie around it. “I’m not as much of an Exosan as your father, but even I believe we’ve outgrown the monarchy.”
“What could the Ban… What’s her name again?”
“The Banra-Sheagh.”
“Thank you. What does the Banra-Sheagh want with me?” I had no clue why an ancient queen would be interested in meeting me.
“I don’t know, but I have a bad feeling about this, Raven. You can’t ignore it. To do so would be suicide. The Queen can execute any member of her court who pisses her off. So you have to travel to Reímseil-Tabah, the realm in which she lives, and go before her.”
I could sense Phasmoria’s worry, and when my mother was worried, there was always a good reason. She wasn’t the type of woman—or Ante-Fae—to be scared of anything. I tried to think of every possible reason the Queen might summon me, but couldn’t come up with any. I kept to myself for the most part, and yes—I was Exosan, meaning I liked the human world and hung out with humans—but there were plenty of Ante-Fae who were Exosan now.
“Maybe it has something to do with Pandora?”
“I don’t know, child.” Phasmoria bit her lip—a gesture alien to her. “I met the Banra-Sheagh one time when she summoned me to court. She wanted to congratulate me on being promoted to Queen of the Bean Sidhe. The meeting was short and to the point. I walked in, knelt before her. She bade me rise, said a few words of how I was making the Ante-Fae proud with my actions, and then boom, the guards escorted me out again.” She shivered. “I can tell you, even that short a time was creepy as shit.”
“That doesn’t bode well. When do I have to go?”
“I’m not sure—she’s sending an official escort. I’m friendly with one of her personal guards and that’s the only reason I know about this. He told me what he could get away with. And now you know everything I know. He did mention that the Banra-Sheagh wasn’t in a good mood when she gave the guards their orders. You’ll probably get the summons tomorrow. I’ll go with you, of course. I’m not letting you walk in there without me.”
Grateful once again that my mother was who she was, I stared at the floor. “What’s she like?”
Phasmoria hesitated for a moment, then said, “I don’t want to scare you, but… She…reminded me of an insect. She was round. Not fat—not in the way you’d think of being fat—but…round. She’s probably seven feet tall, and reminded me of an odd mix of humanoid and a scarab beetle. I can’t explain it any better than that. When I try to think back to our meeting, my mind can’t pin down an image to go with it. It has to be her glamour. Which, by the way, will work on anyone except the gods.”
“That makes me even more nervous. How do I get there?”
“She’ll send guards to accompany you. They’ll pave the way.” My mother took my hands. “I’m going to stay here until you get the summons because otherwise she might sweep you away without warning. I refuse to let you stand before the Banra-Sheagh without me there to help.” She brought my hands to her lips and kissed them lightly. It was right then that I realized I might be in big trouble and that, if I was, there wasn’t much anyone could do.
Phasmoria offered to help finish cooking and decorating for the party. I had set up my Yule tree in the corner the week before Thanksgiving, and it had managed to withstand both Raj and Kipa and retain its beauty. The tree was exquisite—a shimmering vision of white and blue and silver and clear crystal. I had bought an artificial blue spruce that was eight feet tall, and with the tree topper—a blue faerie figurine—it came close to brushing the ceiling. Kipa and I had decorated it, though more me than Kipa, who preferred to sit back and watch me hang the ornaments.
While we were finishing preparations, I turned on Frosty the Snowman and several other seasonal shows for Raj. I had to interrupt at one point when he decided to twirl around the living room. To avoid a major disaster, I switched channels to a cookie baking competition, and now we could hear him shouting at the TV. Shouts of “Cinnamon! Peggy shouldn’t use so much cinnamon or the judges will yell at her!” and “Doesn’t Evan realize that he put the cookies in the oven too late? They won’t bake in time!” echoed from the sofa.
Phasmoria broke out into a big grin. Lowering her voice, she said, “He’s quite the character, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, he definitely is.” I began arranging cookies and pastries on several trays.
Kipa, who was stirring the chowder, asked, “What power does this Banra-Sheagh have over Raven?”
Phasmoria paused from organizing vegetables on a crudité platter. “The Banra-Sheagh—that’s her title and name—has the power of life and death over any of the Ante-Fae. She can order any one of us to be executed, though those who work in service to the gods are exempt to that. Which means since Raven is an official priestess of Arawn and Cerridwen, the Banra-Sheagh can’t take her life. But she can order punishment of many kinds. She can also reward those she feels deserve it.”
“Can she order the Ante-Fae to go to war?” I asked. Now that I knew we had a queen, I wanted to know everything she could force us to do.
“I doubt it. She could try but given how spread out we are and how…different…we all are, that’s not a likely scenario. The Banra-Sheagh seldom speaks out anymore, since a good share of the younger Ante-Fae still live in this realm. A large segment of the ancient Ante-Fae moved over with the Queen when she withdrew, but they’re even less likely to obey if she tried something like a war.” Phasmoria finished setting up the tray of vegetables and dip and moved on to slicing the tortes.
By five we were ready. Right on time, the doorbell rang. I went to change while Kipa answered it. I found Raj sitting on my bed, looking worried, his limpid brown eyes looking glossy as though he’d been crying. I sat down beside him and put my arm around him. He was sitting in the Scooby-Doo position, upright, with his back legs sprawled out in front of him, and his front legs bracing himself up. As I hugged him, his leathery gray skin felt smooth and cool. He leaned into my hug, resting his head on my shoulder.
“What’s wrong with Raj? Why does he look so sad?”
Raj let out a long sigh. “Raj is worried about Raven. Raven’s mother says Raven has to visit a queen. That sounds frightening.”
“It will be all right. Raj doesn’t have to go with Raven, so he’ll be safe here at home.”
“Raj isn’t worried about Raj…Raj is worried Raven’s in trouble. Did Raj do something to get Raven in trouble?”