Bee Queen

by Bowes, K T

  I shook my head, unable to explain the images which trod the line between dream and reality. His shoulders slumped. “But you saw her.”

  I nodded and pointed at the sting. Limah winced and stroked a finger across the raised skin. “It hurts, doesn’t it?” he whispered.

  I knew then. Understanding softened my soul towards him and I sensed more of his sacrifice. His touch had sent me to safety, to my mother’s embrace and the comfort of the colony. The flicker told me what met him there, a bee keeper out of place and out of body. Straightening the index finger of my right hand, I paused for him to comprehend my mime, before jabbing myself in the neck. He swallowed as though his mouth ran dry and I sighed and spread my hands. “Who?” I mouthed.

  His lips curled back in a grimace and he didn’t need to answer. Sonora. I held up my fingers and counted them down, spreading my hands again in question.

  “Just once,” he replied. “We disagreed on an issue and she expelled me from the hive. I almost didn’t survive.” Limah tugged his shirt from his belt and I saw an expanse of muscular olive flesh. He loosened the buckle and pushed down the waistband of his breeches, stretching the material to its limit. Over his left hip sat a mark, rising above the bone like an angry mountain. Still red and inflamed, the sting looked fresh. My eyes narrowed in confusion and Limah took time to right his clothing before speaking. “It’s not recent,” he said. “But her sting proved potent in a reflection of the anger behind it.” He swallowed and adjusted his braces. “Sonora has borne many daughters, Estefania. Only one bore the mark of the hive. You.” He stood still before me, quelling his fidgeting through an act of will. I felt the earnestness of his tale, the sincerity crossing the small distance between us. “I wished to separate you from the start, Este. But she chose to keep you near.”

  My lips parted in an ‘o’ of surprise. The memories of my mother had begun to seem imagined alongside the reality of Sonora. Gentle and kind, I couldn’t imagine the yellow haired woman inflicting pain on anyone. My brow knitted and Limah took back the step he’d relinquished, forcing me to look up at him. “She loves you, Estefania. Never doubt that.”

  A lump rose into my throat, bringing with it a fresh threat of tears. I had believed the well of grief dried up, but it wasn’t so. Another wave tumbled over my lower lids and cascaded into my lap. I saw compassion in Limah’s face and noticed the muscles of his arms stiffen as he forced his hands to remain behind his back. “Your colony needs you,” he said, his voice low. “There’s no other way.” He leaned close, his breath soft upon my face. “Your subjects support your reign, Este, but you must take control.”

  My balled fists thudded the mattress in temper and a cloud of dust puffed upward in protest. I let out a roar which should have shook the cavern walls, but no sound emerged. Frustration burst from me and before he could object, I snatched at Limah’s shirt and rent it in two, the buttons flying in every direction. He took a step back in alarm, but not before I’d pressed my hand against the mark at his shoulder. My heart screamed for revenge at Galveston’s treatment of him, Kuiti and of me. A life of hive rule pressed down on me and rebellion budded in my soul.

  Limah winced, though I knew the wound no longer hurt. His healing in the hive ensured no lingering pain, but he jumped back as though slashed again. His fingers clutched the tattered shirt across his torso in a feminine action which brought a wicked smirk to my lips. Embarrassment sent blood to pool in his cheeks and leave pink spatters on his neck. I enjoyed seeing him in retreat. “You promised,” I mouthed and he recoiled.

  With a sigh, he turned and fastened the two remaining buttons, facing me with the shirt gaping across his downy chest. “I didn’t promise,” he said, splaying his arms wide and keeping his palms upwards in an expression of placation. Quicker than I anticipated, he jerked his arm and one hand closed around my mouth, the fingers pushing my lips together. It hurt and Limah dodged the first of my booted kicks to his shin, but not the second. “You are without words, Este!” he bit. “What is your intention, child? Will you enter the Wasp Lord’s courts and act out a mime for him before he runs you through too?”

  My fingers clawed at his wrists but it served no useful purpose other than to open the previous welts. His eyes blazed as he held on for a moment longer than needed. When he let go, my face ached. He sighed and shook his head. To my surprise, his eyes crinkled at the corners and a smile lit his lips. “It’s best you cannot speak, Estefania Melitto. Because every time you open your mouth, your brains roll out through the cavity. Take control of your colony and act like a queen. Then you will have an army to take with you and revenge may actually go your way.”

  My eyes narrowed at the insult and I gritted my teeth. Pointing at the buttons of my breeches, I indicated the obvious reason I couldn’t run a colony. I made sure my face expression taunted Limah for his oversight. Yet he shrugged and turned away from me. “In a literal hive, Este, the queen would need to mate, yes.” His fingers rested on the door as he pulled it open and his eyes lingered over my body. “But the line between the hive and the Outer is not as defined as you imagine. These people need a leader. Within each of us is contained the capacity to behave with the dignity of a bee, to work hard and with purpose for a common good. We all have that, Estefania. And within each of us is the human capacity for destruction, lawlessness and greed. Now is the time to pick your path, my Lady. Then the rest will make sense for itself.” He opened the door to its limit and jerked his head towards me. “I see you are not to be reasoned with at the moment. Come and eat. No self respecting drone would wish to mate with a bag of bones in men’s clothing, anyway.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The Colony

  Of course I sulked. It seemed foolish to alter the habits of a lifetime, especially when it usually worked to achieve my aims. Yet Limah proved impervious to my lack of charm, leading me by the hand like a child through the cave system. Fear drove me to stick close to his side, despite the urge to kick him in the shins and bolt. He halted before a wide door which I recognised as belonging to the food hall. Turning to me, he smirked. “I would normally urge you to keep your mouth closed, Este. Yet fate has robbed me of the task and I find myself unapologetic.” He touched the tip of my nose with his index finger like a condescending, whiskered aunt bestowing mock affection, not that I’d ever experienced such a thing. “Short of putting a sack over your head, Este, I must still urge you to mask your expression. It appears you wish me dead and I fear for your health should the colony object.”

  I drew in a lungful of air which almost choked me. The scent of fresh bread seeped beneath the door, mingling with the fragrance of a vegetable stew. My stomach growled and Limah quirked his undamaged eyebrow. “Face. Expression. Este.” He punctuated the sentence with exaggerated pauses and I glanced towards the door and back at him. The dark flash in his eyes demanded obedience and left me little choice. For the moment, hunger dictated. Setting my face into a regal smile and forcing the idea of submission into my reluctant heart, I complied. My expression softened and I inclined my head in a bow of acquiescence.

  Limah smiled. For a second, my feigned submission faltered, for he possessed a disarming smile which went far too unused to look familiar. The skin around his brown eyes crinkled and he looked like the boy I remembered from the hive. His full lips curved upwards to reveal white teeth usually obscured by a mouth down turned in accompaniment to a frown. A tiny chip on the upper front tooth revealed itself as he bit into his bottom lip in a moment of coyness. The complicated bee keeper hid a beautiful nature beneath his authoritarian habit and I glimpsed it like a breath of fresh air. The infectiousness of his merriment translated itself to me and I found my own lips twisting back in an unladylike grin. “That’s better,” he whispered. “Keep it up.”

  Limah opened the door and a wall of faces greeted me, the easy chatter ending in sudden silence. I swallowed and my expression faltered. An air of antagonism rose to greet me, winding its tendrils around my neck in a throttle
hold. Squeezing my fingers and clutching my arm beneath his elbow, Limah adopted the role of a trusted counselor, leading his queen into a banquet.

  Galveston said I had wounded Bliss, yet Limah believed a different tale. My mind wandered to thoughts of my faithful nurse’s teaching and I dropped into the etiquette drilled into me by her lessons. “Your mother had such grace,” she mused in my mind’s eye, forcing me to walk with a hard book balanced on my head. Each time I looked down, the thing slipped from my curls and clattered me in the face or bounced off a bare toe. “Again!” she would cry. “Dignity, Estefania Melitto. Your mother would expect nothing less.”

  Nothing less. My mother, Sonora. She left so I could live, pursued by the Wasp Lord to buy me time and freedom. I drew myself up to my full height and forced my trembling legs to take dignified strides. I channelled the beauty and grace of the blonde woman I met in the ruined hive, the woman who advanced without seeming to walk and whose dress embodied the fine veins of her wings. Becoming her for that tiny snapshot in time, I glided across the room on Limah’s arm like the queen my mother believed I could become.

  He shot me a look of surprise and approval as I nodded left and right to the gathered crowd. Lily waved from a seat next to Hosta and the act slipped for a second as I winked at her. Flushing in pleasure, she pursed her lips and patted Hosta’s forearm. My anxiety lessened as Hosta attended to her and removed her look of hostility from me for a blessed second of relief. It reduced further at the lack of the old drone’s face among those gathered for food. I wondered where he had gone and hoped his new abode took him far away.

  Bottoms shifted sideways along a wide bench, allowing Limah to press me into position between himself and a strange male. I felt the eyes of every person in the room fixed on my movements as I sat and kept my eyes cast downward. Focusing on the knots in the wooden table proved a worthy occupation as I counted the rings and estimated the age of the tree before stripped of its guts by men. When the scrape of metal spoons on pottery resumed, I sighed with relief. My hands shook beneath the table top and I kept them clasped and out of sight. I didn’t need to see Hosta’s occasional glances to feel the venom burning into the side of my cheek.

  A bowl of broth settled on the table before me, its colour vivid orange and a rich scent of pumpkin and rosemary floating into my nostrils. Limah thanked the slender woman who delivered it, adding a smile to the regal nod of his head. I saw her cheeks flush with a pink stain which began in the cleft of her throat and blossomed upwards like a star burst. Oblivious, Limah accepted the proffered spoon and dug it into his broth. Following his lead, I found the soup tasty, although my emaciated stomach objected to the sudden onslaught of activity. It grumbled and complained as the herbs pulled it from slumber and demanded action.

  “Take it slow, Este.” Limah leaned sideways and his breath moved the tendrils of hair closest to my ear. Reaching across, he stilled the spoon in my hand and gave me a knowing nod. Hosta’s gaze burned my cheek with heightened intensity, betraying the origin of her ire towards me. I clenched my jaw, muteness dictating I keep her secret, though I wanted to humiliate her with every fibre of my being. Glancing sideways at Limah, I allowed my gaze to stray towards Hosta’s livid face. I offered her a slow blink and lifted the corners of my lips, telling her without words I guessed the weakness in her. She faltered, jerking her head back on her neck as though suffering a body blow and the darkness in her eyes took on the fathomless hue of pure jealousy. Raising a quizzical eyebrow I returned to my soup, the knot in my stomach lessening a little.

  Limah proved attentive, perhaps preferring the less vitriolic version of me. Robbed of voice and too tired to mime my frustrations, I ate and drank without causing trouble. The fresh spring water in my cup tasted refreshing and washed the soup and herbs from my tongue. But the effort of eating and digesting exhausted me. Conversation bubbled around the room in waves of varying tempo, but the man to my right remained silent. My attempt at a smile sent him reeling away from further contact. I turned an expression of confusion towards Limah and he patted my hand without relinquishing his spoon. Orange dots of soup spattered the table beneath. “They fear you,” he whispered into my ear, his tone confidential and exclusive. “Don’t hurry to dispel the advantage.”

  My brows furrowed and he widened his eyes and glanced towards Hosta. She occupied herself with Lily, wiping orange liquid from her bodice with a look of exasperation as the child cavorted on the bench next to her. I followed his gaze and saw I had underestimated my new counselor. It gave me cause to question his disinterested leadership of the colony and I suspected he knew and understood more than he revealed of its inner machinations.

  The end of the meal brought an overwhelming desire to sleep, accompanied by a nagging nausea which bit at my insides. With a tilt of my head and tired smile, I communicated my gratitude to Limah as he led me from the food hall through the gathered throng of staring people. Lily waved and I managed a jerky nod, but the lure of the sagging mattress in my chamber called and sleep could not come soon enough.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Counselor

  “I’m concerned.” Limah released his grip on my elbow as the heavy door closed behind us. He ran a scarred hand through his hair and sighed. The proximity of his right hand to his sword throughout our meandering stroll between the tables was not wasted and his casual air covered alertness.

  “The drone?” I tousled my hair with my hand and mimicked the wearing of a beard. Limah’s right eyebrow rose as I mouthed the words and amusement lit his lips. Reaching out my hand, I stroked the jagged rocks protruding from the labyrinth wall and tried to count the steps waiting for me between the food hall and my chamber. An uneasy slumber on the lumpy mattress beckoned.

  Limah shook his head. “Bracken is a confused old man, Este. You should have let me put him out of his misery before he does himself serious harm.”

  I sighed and my eyelashes fluttered at the memory of Limah’s fury. The stench of death hung heavy over the senses of my bee nature. I lived on, but at what cost? I shook my head, wanting no more blood on my conscience, save Galveston’s. He would sample my taste for vengeance soon enough.

  “What do you know of the drone?” Limah reached out and took my elbow, steering me forward towards rest and oblivion. He waited with patience while I sorted out my stumbling feet. I shrugged in reply and he grasped a torch from its hook on the wall and held it out in front of us. The flame pointed its burning tip at the ceiling and dipped with the movement of Limah’s gait. No draughts from outside gave it cause to dance. “Sonora kept him close for many years,” he began. “With no cause for doubt, she valued his counsel above all others and let him lead the direction of the colony.”

  My curiosity piqued, I gave Limah my full attention, widening my eyes and urging him to continue. When he paused, I used my elbow to nudge his ribs and he grimaced.

  “You wish to know what changed?” His brows grew heavy and the scar creased in its groove across his cheek as his expression darkened. “Your bee mark altered everything, Este. Your mother grew attached to you and spent more time in the Outer. Bracken objected to her long absences but ruled the hive in her stead.”

  My brows knitted as I contemplated a drone acting above his station. Resentment towards me seemed a natural leap but Limah used his forefinger to tap my chin and regain my attention. “Don’t misunderstand me, Este. Bracken’s loyalty is unfailing towards the colony and Sonora. He was a good counselor. But he maintains his belief there is another virgin queen to rule the colony and save the bees.”

  I used my left hand to jab a finger at my open mouth, the lack of sound testament to the old man’s mischief. Limah’s face clouded. “He shouldn’t have interfered, Este. He wished to show you something important hidden within the depths of yourself and you paid a terrible price.” His expressive eyebrow quirked upward. “Though I must confess I like the quieter version of you.” He jerked sideways as my elbow lunged for his ribs. My action clattered us both i
nto the wall and Limah gave a grunt as we overbalanced. The torch sputtered in his hand but remained lit. He tensed and held it upright while it regained its equilibrium enough to light our way. When he resumed walking, he didn’t reach for my arm but left me to stumble along next to him.

  “Bracken is gone,” he said, his voice low. “My concerns are not for him, but you. If the colony rejects you in the wake of his leaving, it will swarm. These people will run with blind fear and we both know what awaits them outside.” He glanced sideways at me and I felt the force of his anxiety. I appointed him Counselor and he took the role seriously, attempting to foresee the future which awaited us. “They’ll kill you,” he hissed, his tone grave. “Make no mistake.”

  His words echoed through my mind in time to our footsteps as Limah led me to my chamber. I discovered no fear of death when I searched my heart, perhaps believing it a blessed relief from my trials. But the thought of Lily lost in the snow outside haunted me and formed into a knot in my breast. Her bare feet and wiry limbs made no match for a hunting Swift. Galveston’s soft fingers coasted across her cheek in my mind’s eye and I found myself sickened by the notion. Limah’s doleful brown eyes studied my face as we paused outside my chamber and I knew he saw the same horrors.

  My nod communicated acceptance, obedience and understanding. My Counselor had counseled. Within the halls of my heart though, my will rebelled. I disliked the colony and had gained a measure of their disdain for me. Limah appeared satisfied by my feigned acquiescence and his shoulders lost the rigidity of tension. A spear of guilt pierced my breast. Just like my mother, I too would walk my own path. Like the broken drone whose words went unheeded, Limah’s fate promised equal disappointment. He sent me a sideways look of approval as we walked and I winced, feeling the spear begin to twist as the guilt burrowed deeper.