Yep, I thought. Hive mind.
As we entered the structure, the chill from outside vanished and the path changed to tiles, three wide before falling into shadows. I could hear wisps of movement and whispers from the hidden recesses and they made me queasy.
The light shining on the tiles came from overhead, from some fixture that shone straight down. It was impossible to tell how wide the room was—the shadows on the sides were so thick they might as well have been mud.
The two guards flanking me immediately moved to the front. As I glanced over my shoulder, Kipa and Phasmoria were directly behind me now, with the latter guards marching behind them. Kipa caught my attention and gave me a short shake of the head that I assumed meant: obey them for now. My mother’s look underscored Kipa’s, so I turned around to follow the guards who huddled together in the center of the walkway.
I began to understand why they avoided the side edge of the floor, when the shadow demons—who looked suspiciously like shadow men except that they weren’t so clear-cut humanoid—reached out as we passed by, trying to reach into the light toward us. But the moment their arms hit the blaze of light, and with a flurry of shrieks and groans, they jerked away from the light. That didn’t seem to stop the rest of them from trying, though.
Nervously, I made sure to walk in the exact center, and any thought I had of trying to run off vanished. I couldn’t tell how many of the shadow demons there were, but there were far too many for comfort.
We continued down the center tiles until, up ahead, the path ended at a pair of huge double doors. I steeled myself as the guards opened them and continued through.
As I stepped up to the doors and then in, I hadn’t a clue what to expect, but we entered a massive chamber. It seemed to be lit by the same starlight as the walk outdoors had been, and here the subtle clamor coming from the shadow demons fell away. But the power here frightened me more than the shadow demons had, because up ahead—on a throne forged of silver and rubies and garnets and obsidian—sat the Banra-Sheagh, and she was more terrifying than anything I had ever seen.
Chapter Five
The Banra-Sheagh was both hideous and wondrous. A queen, she was—but she was a round creature, reminding me of a ladybug covered with spikes the color of the night sky. Glittering patches formed bright circles on her exoskeleton. The tips of the spikes flared with a sickly green color, occasionally melting into a shimmer of yellow.
Her head was out of proportion with her body, small and set atop the rounded exoskeleton. Her arms were human enough, but there were four of them. She stood on two short, stubby legs, but even so, she towered over everyone in the room.
My lungs tightened and I realized I was barely breathing. She looked like a queen of monsters, and yet—as we approached—I saw there was beauty there too. Monstrous beauty, alien to anything I had ever seen, but still mesmerizing.
The Banra-Sheagh wore a crown made of silver and rubies, and her eyes glowed with a deep internal light. Whether she was wearing clothes was debatable. It was difficult to tell whether her exoskeleton—for lack of a better word—was her outfit or her body. And I didn’t think it was wise to ask.
Behind me, Phasmoria caught her breath. I didn’t turn around but she reached forward, patting me on the shoulder. Grateful for her reassurance, though I wasn’t sure she could do anything if the Queen had it in for me, I followed the guards to the foot of the throne.
The throne was its own monstrosity, made of silver and oak. I knew it was oak because the wood sang to me—the throne was alive in its own right.
The guards stopped and stood to the side, motioning for me to approach the bottom of the throne. I wasn’t sure whether to bow or kneel or curtsey, so I opted for curtseying.
As I stood, I remained silent, waiting to take my cue from the Queen.
Kipa and my mother closed the distance between us, so they were right at my back, with Kipa on my right side, my mother on my left. We stood there for some moments, the Queen watching us like a spider might eye a fly caught in her web.
Then, without warning, she broke the silence. “Raven BoneTalker. You are Raven BoneTalker?”
After my mother gave me a little shove from the back, I said, “Yes, Your Majesty. I’m Raven BoneTalker.”
“You are the bone witch, daughter of Curikan and Phasmoria, Queen of the Bean Sidhe, yes?” The Banra-Sheagh’s voice was terrifyingly rich, echoing through the chamber. I wasn’t sure what I had expected, but it wasn’t that. Her voice was enough to make me want to dive under the bed.
“Yes,” I squeaked out, wishing with everything that I was only one of the background players in this drama.
She stared at me for a moment, her gaze burning a hole through me. I tried to look her in the eyes, tried to stand my ground but after a few seconds of her scrutinizing me, I quickly turned my gaze to the side.
“I see you brought a god and your mother with you for support.” She paused again.
I wasn’t sure if she was waiting for an answer so I stammered out, “Yes, Your Majesty.”
One of the guards standing near the throne leaned forward and whispered something in her ear—or where her ear should be. I couldn’t tell if she actually had ears.
“Yes, I’m aware of that. Very well, bring him in.”
Him? Him who? Wondering who she was talking about, I heard a noise from the darkness to her rear left and then a door opened, a shaft of light blazing in. Two figures walked through, approaching the throne. To my shock, I saw my father, followed by a man who looked far older than that. But there was a resemblance between them and I knew—without a shadow of a doubt—this was my grandfather Dougal. The question was, what were they doing here, in the realm of Reímseil-Tabah?
“Raven!” My father’s face brightened and he held out his arms to me, but I held my ground. I wasn’t sure what would happen to any of us if I ran to him for a hug.
The Queen, however, cleared her throat and said, “You may acknowledge your father, child. And your grandfather.”
Nervously, I glanced at Phasmoria, who looked as confused as I did. I slowly moved forward to hug my father. I whispered, “Da, what’s this all about?”
He pressed his cheek against mine. “Just do as you are told.”
I stepped back after kissing him on the cheek, waiting for the Queen to speak again. This couldn’t just be some elaborate family reunion. I was smart enough to know that.
Shyly, I turned to my grandfather and curtseyed, who exuded more power than any of the Ante-Fae I had met except for the elders like Arachana or Blackthorn. He couldn’t hold a candle to the Queen’s power, of course, but still, it was enough to make me walk a cautious line.
Dougal looked older, and being Ante-Fae, those who looked older were incredibly ancient. I had no idea how long he had been alive. Nor, for that matter, if my grandmother was still around. In fact, I hadn’t ever thought about it, but I had no clue about her—or my mother’s parents. The realization made me feel weird now that I thought about it, but as I grew up, none of the familial relationships had been particularly in the forefront and it felt like an unspoken rule never to ask.
Dougal wasn’t as tall as my father, but he was stocky with broad shoulders, and muscular, and his wavy red hair seemed a stark contrast to his scowling countenance. His eyes were pale gray, and they seemed to pierce right through me as I stood in front of him. A shock of violet ran through his hair—a lot like the purple running through mine—and I could see scrolling tattoos on his forearms beneath the shirt that he wore. They looked a lot like my own birthmarks.