3. The Banshee Queen
"It is my honor to introduce the Eighth Seat, Her Royal Highness, the Queen Aisling; Long may She reign."
The elderly majordomo stepped aside, and a woman in a black suit walked into the room. She was fantastically pale, her eyes such a light blue that they were almost colorless. Her hair, by contrast, was perfectly black, absorbing all the light that touched it as if she were a walking event horizon. She looked much younger than I had anticipated the leader to be -- physically, she appeared to only be a few years older than I was. As she entered, I saw Cynthia and Sam stiffen and freeze.
I felt my stomach turn over, a sudden wave of fear crashing over the seawall that was my perception. My new senses rapidly detected it, a sour and displeasing affront to my nostrils. It was instantly overwhelmed by the surges outpouring from Sam. The terror rushing off her was imposing in magnitude, dominating the concoction of emotions I was detecting to such a degree that it became painful. The cold, calculating beast in my mind noted that, for the first time, I was tasting something from Cynthia. It was faint, barely noticeable behind Sam's agony, but the dread controlling her leaked through whatever obscured her from me.
I could sense some apprehension from Beth, but it was even less than what I felt from myself. She was nervous about meeting someone influential and making a good impression, not gripped with absolute magical horror like Sam and Cynthia were. She also had yet to notice the O'Briens' condition, her green eyes tracking the new arrival, which likely explained some of her limited response.
I started to feel the icy grasp of pure terror spreading from my gut, threatening to spread like a cancer and dominate all of my faculties. Her presence was almost overwhelming. Almost.
I felt the voice in the back of my mind growl, and the fear I had felt was suddenly gone. He was insulted that we had been forced to endure this mistreatment and further insulted at the ease with which he could brush it aside. If we were to be tested, he desired a challenge, not a trivial formality for tormenting little girls. With my senses returned, I stood and bowed slightly while speaking, "Your majesty, it is a great honor to be invited to meet with you." Beth had stood when I did, but Cynthia and Sam remained rooted in their seats, cemented in terror. They didn't even seem capable of noticing that anything had changed in the room.
Aisling responded as she glided across the room, moving in an effortlessly refined manner. "Save your honorifics for when you have enough knowledge for them to carry meaning." Her voice was calm and measured; She wasn't trying to insult me with her statement, just cutting past the formalities. I waited for her to take her seat before sitting myself.
At her seat, several papers were waiting for her. She began to glance at them, skimming their contents. I put my hand on Cynthia's leg and rubbed it softly. I needed her guidance and support, but she was completely frozen, locked up in fear, and unable to assist me. It made me wonder why Beth hadn't been -- after all, she was in the alley where we met. It would've been much more understandable for the unrefined teenager to be affected here, especially when the two witches had been incapacitated. After a handful of seconds, I felt Cynthia's hand shift to rest on top of mine. I kept massaging the front of her thigh for the time being. I could see how much of a struggle it had been to move her hand to mine, but when they connected, I found her fear fade from my senses.
Aisling set the papers down and stared at me intently, her hueless eyes boring into me mercilessly. "Cynthia thinks that you are a dragon. Cynthia has an impeccable record with correctly identifying those undergoing transitions."
She paused, and her intense gaze fell on Beth. "You are a human. That is what the report says. But you aren't afraid of me, and I can't find you underneath the shielding layers of enchantment. Enchantment with no paperwork or history."
Beth answered timidly, "I find you quite intimidating, your highness. I am quite afraid and not used to places like this. Cynthia said something similar about me being unsensable. James did something, I think, but neither of us knows what."
Aisling tutted back like she was dealing with a child who was out of place. "You aren't afraid like you should be. Look at Cynthia's daughter." We looked at Sam, and I was pained by what I saw. Sam had her head down, her eyes clenched shut, and her hand gripped the fork she had been eating from with as much force as she could muster. All the color had drained from her face, matching her white-knuckled fingers. She was thoroughly gripped by horror.
Aisling continued, "You are afraid, but you are not incapacitated with terror. I was told you were protected with unrecorded enchantments, and I wanted to investigate this assertion myself. I have some answers now, and it would be cruel to continue torturing my servants."
I watched Aisling, and she visibly softened. Her eyes sparkled blue, her hair began reflecting light, and I could see her cheeks touched with the slightest blush. She no longer appeared as a character on a backdrop. Now she resembled a mortal, capable of interacting with the environment around her. Cynthia's hand gripped mine entirely, and she lightly squeezed it. I went to withdraw it from her leg, but she pinned it where it was. The tangy fear retreated somewhat, no longer smothering and oppressive. Evidently, Aisling intentionally forced the girls to feel that way to see what would happen, and she had relented now that she had her conclusions.
Sam opened her eyes and dropped the fork back on the table. She spent a few moments breathing violently and then whispered, "Holy fuck" to herself before looking up and seeing all of us looking at her. She blushed and squeaked out, "Your highness! I'm terribly sorry; I forgot myself."
Aisling nodded proudly, "I believe that is quite an accurate description. It is no offense to me -- that is the reaction humans should have when I want them to. Please, enjoy the dinner for the time being."
When she said that, the younger man came in and provided what must be the main course for the meal. As we ate, Aisling looked through the remaining papers, rummaging through the pile seemingly indiscriminately. Ten minutes passed with only the sounds of us nervously eating the opulent fare and Aisling manipulating her documents. When we consumed this course, Aisling appeared ready to begin discussions earnestly.