The Hive Queen (Wings of Fire, Book 12)

by Tui T. Sutherland

  Blue’s antennae twitched. “It’s almost midnight,” he said.

  “Thank the trees,” Sundew responded. She yanked her cape out from under Swordtail, dumping him into the vat of water. When he came up sputtering and indignant, she flung her tail around his snout. “Shush, you great screech owl. It’s time to go.”

  “It’ll be all right,” Blue said softly to Cricket, under the noise of Swordtail hauling himself out of the water. “I’m sure whatever happened, your real parents loved you and wished they could have kept you.”

  Cricket was not so sure, but she was relieved to be moving again, out of the tower and on their way to the library, a place that had always been full of answers for her. She hoped the Chrysalis SilkWings would be like that, too. Full of answers … if she could figure out what “5” meant and find them.

  The library was a few levels up from Cadelle’s neighborhood, just above the Jewel Hive Nest and below several levels of expensive ballrooms and wealthy mansions. It was one of Cricket’s favorite places in all the Hives, and she always wondered why Jewel Hive was only famous for the Glitterbazaar. Why didn’t other dragons ever talk about the library that took up an entire level, containing every book ever written by a HiveWing? Perhaps because it didn’t fit with the image of Jewel Hive — no one imagined the dragons here choosing reading over shopping or jewelry-making.

  And yet for some reason Lady Jewel wanted this library, Cricket thought as they crept up to the enormous double doors at the front entrance. She made sure it was built into her Hive plans. None of the other Hives have one quite this big, not even Mantis Hive, which is supposed to be the smart Hive, the academic center of innovation. Cricket looked up at the flying beetles carved over the doors. The joke in the other Hives was that Lady Jewel couldn’t even read, although surely that wasn’t really true. Still … why did Jewel want a library that she apparently never goes into?

  Despite Jewel Hive’s reputation, the library was never empty, at least as far as Cricket had seen. There were always dragonets everywhere — sprawled along the tops of bookshelves, curled in the window nooks, lying in the hammocks, and reading, reading, reading.

  But now, near midnight, it was closed and deserted. The front doors faced the entrance from the ramps; there was a small plaza here, outside the library walls, with a circle of benches arranged around a statue of Clearsight.

  Cricket loved this statue, too. Clearsight had her nose in a book — not The Book, just a book — and she was reading. She didn’t look like an avenging prophet announcing the doom of all the tribes. She looked as though she might glance up any moment, see Cricket, and say, “Oh my gosh, have you read this one? It’s amazing!”

  The entire library level was vibrating from the shouts and music of a party above them. The flamesilk globes overhead shook and swayed and sent shadows wobbling across the front of the library. Tiny flecks of treestuff drifted down, making Cricket sneeze.

  “Where’s the Chrysalis?” Sundew whispered to Swordtail.

  He spread his wings in a “how would I know?” gesture, and she rolled her eyes.

  “You’re not the most useful revolutionary,” she hissed. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

  “I’m better with Luna around,” he said wistfully.

  Sundew hopped up the library steps and tried the doors, but they were locked. “So if we can’t get in,” she said, turning with a swirl of her cape, “the meeting must be out here in the plaza, right?”

  Cricket looked around. It felt as if they were completely alone on this level. They’d passed other dragons on the ramps up and down, but it was the glittering hours of the night: all of them were going past the library to the gatherings above, to glitter and see and be seen glittering.

  “Have you ever noticed that glitter is a word that quickly loses its meaning if you say it too much?” she said to Blue. “Glitter. Glitter. Glittering. Isn’t it super weird now?”

  “You’re super weird,” he said affectionately. “Why isn’t this library as sparkly as the rest of the Hive?”

  She glanced up at the towering walls of treestuff. It was true; unlike most of Jewel Hive, the library wasn’t shimmering with embedded jewels and tiles and decorations. It did have expensive wooden doors, saved from some long-ago building that must also have been a library, because they had books carved all over them.

  Cricket remembered Sundew slashing her claws through the sculpted face of Queen Wasp on the doors of Wasp Hive. She wondered how long it had taken to carve the doors there and here, and whether there was any way to repair the damage, and who still knew the skills of wood carving and what kinds of tools were required …

  Blue climbed the steps and touched the wooden door lightly with his talons. She saw a sad look cross his face as he glanced over at Sundew.

  He’s thinking about what she might be feeling, Cricket guessed. That thing he does, where he’s always in someone else’s head. She thought it was fascinating; she wished she could remember to do it like he did.

  I could try now … he’s thinking … hmmmm. Maybe that seeing wood used for doors must make Sundew sad … because she misses the trees?

  “Any ideas?” Sundew barked, poking Cricket’s shoulder. “You three look half asleep. Do I need to bring up Belladonna’s other plan and our time limit? You do want to find the Chrysalis, don’t you?”

  Cricket shivered at the reminder. The Chrysalis had to have answers for them, if they wanted to stop Belladonna and the other LeafWings.

  “It doesn’t seem like they’re coming,” Swordtail said. He peered off along the walls in either direction.

  “We’re missing something,” Cricket said. “Five. That was the third part of the message. Five … doors of the library? But there are only these, from the ramps, and another set at the back that open out to the savanna. Those will be closed at night, too.” She scanned the plaza. “There are only four benches. Nothing with a five on it, right?”

  Blue squinted at the doors. “I don’t see any fives up here.”

  “Maybe the statue … like where the message was hidden in the Glitterbazaar?” Cricket walked around the statue of Clearsight, looking for tiny cracks where another leaf might be stuffed. Nothing in the base. Nothing under Clearsight’s talons. Her neck curved toward the book, the row of spines spiraling along her back down her tail.

  The spines were the only thing Cricket could see where there were more than five of them. She hopped up onto the statue’s base and reached up to the top of Clearsight’s head. One, two, three, four, five spines down her back — and there was something lodged under the fifth one.

  A key.

  She tugged it out and studied it in the light of the flickering flamesilk globes.

  “What is it?” Sundew asked, resting her front talons on the base of the statue and lifting her neck to see.

  “Our way into the library, I think,” Cricket said.

  Sure enough, the key fit the lock on the doors. Swordtail heaved one side open and they slipped inside, one by one, while Cricket returned the key to its hiding spot and then followed them. Inside, there was a bolt to lock the doors again behind them.

  A kind of peace settled over Cricket as she stepped into the library. She always felt this way when she was surrounded by books. She belonged here, even if she didn’t fit anywhere else. In here there were answers and information and thousands of stories waiting for her to fold herself into them. She was always safe inside a book.

  And this was her favorite of all the libraries she knew. Shelves radiated out from the central desk in every direction, like a sunburst, and more aisles with more books filled the balconies overhead. Beloved characters were painted on the walls, golden glass and copper wire dragons holding books hung from the ceiling far overhead, and blue silk tapestries filled the rest of the open space, woven with quotes about reading.

  “Hm,” Sundew said quietly, glancing around. “There’s a lot of dead trees in here.”

  Cricket was startled out of her pe
ace. “They’re not — I mean, maybe — but they’re books! Books are everything!”

  “And they’re not all made from trees, right?” Blue offered.

  “Right.” Cricket shook out her wings, taking a calming breath. “We mostly make paper from silk now.”

  “Oh, good,” Sundew answered. “You used up our resources and moved on to exploiting a different tribe.”

  “But the books are for us, too,” Blue said. “For everyone. I’d give all my silk to help build a place like this.” He ducked his head and looked at Cricket, and she wished she could throw her wings around him and tell him how wonderful he was.

  Sundew wasn’t wrong. She kept opening Cricket’s eyes in moments when Cricket hadn’t realized they were closed. But Blue was the reason she could keep them open and still feel all the things she felt. He saw Cricket; he understood completely what this place meant to her.

  “Shh,” Sundew said, flicking her tail in front of Swordtail’s face even though he hadn’t said anything at all. She pointed up and gave Cricket a quizzical look.

  She could hear it, too. Voices arguing, somewhere upstairs.

  They could have flown up to the balcony that overlooked the first floor, but their wingbeats might have scared away the other dragons. If they can hear anything over their own voices, that is, Cricket thought as they crept up the stairs instead. This was certainly the loudest stealth meeting of a secret rebellion she’d ever heard.

  “No, you’re doing it wrong!” one of them shouted. “It’s like you don’t even care about what we’re trying to do here!”

  “I’m focusing on what’s actually important!” another one yelled back. “Tearing apart other SilkWings isn’t going to get us anywhere!”

  “We have to fix the problems in our own tribe before we can stand together,” the first voice insisted. “I mean, if I think Argus is a lazy caterpillar who doesn’t understand our mission, then it’s useful for me to yell at him until he sorts himself out.”

  “I think it’s cowardly,” the second voice snapped back. “It’s easy to yell at Argus because he’s on our side. It’s a lot easier than standing up to the dragons we’re supposed to be fighting.”

  “I’m sure your intentions are good, Morpho,” pleaded a third voice as Cricket and her friends crept through the stacks. “But what if you’ve scared him away and he never comes back?”

  “Then good riddance,” the first voice snapped.

  “No!” shouted the second. “We need every dragon we can get on our side! I’d rather have fifty SilkWings who are at least trying to do the right thing than three who are perfect in every way by your standards.”

  Sundew crouched and snuck a glance around the last corner. Through the bookshelves, Cricket could see bright blue wings flashing open and closed, and the pale yellow scales of another dragon close by. They were in the back corner of the library, farthest from the front doors, near a wall of windows that looked out onto the dark savanna. Cricket remembered this reading nook with its hammocks and pillows. The flamesilk lamps were covered for the night, but their light still glowed dimly through the dark silk shades, illuminating the books scattered on the windowsills and the floor.

  They should be more careful, Cricket thought nervously. Dragons flew between the levels all night in Jewel Hive, flitting from one party to another. Someone could easily fly past the library windows, glance inside, and wonder why a group of SilkWings was in the library after dark.

  “You go out there first,” Sundew whispered to Swordtail. “Make sure they don’t freak out when they see the rest of us.”

  “Me?” Swordtail said. “I mean, right. Me. Introductions. No freaking out. No problem.” He squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. “What should I say?”

  “Just figure it out,” Sundew hissed.

  “You’ll be great,” Blue added reassuringly as Sundew shoved Swordtail toward the squabbling dragons.

  “Right,” Swordtail said. He cleared his throat and stepped between the hammocks, into the dim circle of light. “Excuse me? Hi.”

  The SilkWings whirled around and stared at him.

  “I’m looking for the Chrysalis,” said Swordtail.

  One of the dragons snorted and spread his wings at the other two SilkWings with him. “Well, congratulations,” he said. “You’ve found us.”

  “Oh — good,” Swordtail said. “Great. Um. Hello, Chrysalis.”

  “What kind of secret organization just admits who they are to any idiot who walks in?” Sundew muttered. She flicked her tail, swiping Cricket with the billow of her cape. “They have no idea who he is or who he’s with!”

  Cricket crouched to get a clearer view through the shelves, but she could still only see three dragons in the reading nook. Was that it? The whole Jewel Hive faction of the secret SilkWing rebellion was … three arguing dragons?

  “Why were you looking for us?” demanded the dragon with bright blue wings. He was the owner of the first voice — Morpho, if Cricket remembered right. His torso was dappled with iridescent sea-green scales and little patches of white ran down his tail, but he had clearly been named for the color of his wings, which were nearly as vibrant as Blue’s.

  “Maybe he wants to join us,” said the pale yellow dragon hopefully. “Do you dream of a better world, friend?”

  “Do you agree that all Silk-Wings should refuse to serve any HiveWings in the Glitterbazaar?” the blue dragon demanded. “And that we should make lists of all the SilkWings who do so we can go yell at them?”

  “Oh, honestly, Morpho,” said the third dragon, rolling her eyes.

  Swordtail cleared his throat nervously. “Um … my name is Swordtail. I’m part of the Cicada Hive Chrysalis — I mean, sort of — I was about to be. Me and Luna. And now she’s missing. Have you heard anything about a dragon named Luna recently? Has she come to you for help, maybe?”

  The three dragons blinked at him in confusion.

  “I don’t know anyone named Luna,” said the yellow dragon. “I’m sorry,” she added as Swordtail’s wings drooped.

  “She’s a flamesilk,” he said. “We rescued her, but she might have been recaptured by Wasp Hive. Have you heard anything like that? A SilkWing taken prisoner over Dragonfly Bay in the last five days?”

  They all shook their heads, and Swordtail’s wings drooped even more. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Maybe she’s hiding with another wing of the Chrysalis?”

  “Maybe,” the yellow dragon said gently. “We haven’t heard anything.”

  Cricket reached over and squeezed one of Blue’s talons. He looked so worried and sad … she wished she had a tiny fraction of Clearsight’s power so she could have a vision of Luna and let Blue know his sister was all right.

  “Is that why you’re here?” asked Morpho. “Just looking for another SilkWing?”

  “Not just that. My friends and I were hoping you could help us,” Swordtail said.

  Morpho squinted at the shelves behind Swordtail, while the other two dragons exchanged a worried glance. “Your friends? Who’s with you?”

  Swordtail turned and beckoned. Sundew rolled her eyes at Cricket. “Very thorough introduction, Swordtail,” she whispered. “This is going to go great.”

  Blue stepped out first, sliding up beside Swordtail. Before he could speak, the yellow SilkWing jumped forward with a gasp.

  “You’re the one from the Wanted posters!” Her pale yellow antennae unfurled all the way and she stared at him as if he were a tree who’d just sprouted illegally in the middle of the library floor.

  “Hey, I was on the posters, too,” Swordtail pointed out.

  “Are you really a flamesilk?” the third dragon asked, reaching toward Blue’s talons and then catching herself and pulling back.

  “Yes,” he said, turning his wrists upward so she could see the embers glowing under his scales.

  “Oh, wow,” she said. “That was the rumor but no one will officially confirm it. How did you escape?”

  “And wa
sn’t there a HiveWing on that poster with you?” Morpho asked suspiciously.

  “That’s how,” Blue said to the dark orange dragon who was studying his wrists. “And that’s why she’s wanted by the queen, too. She helped me escape.” He turned and held out one talon toward Cricket. “Cricket?”

  Cricket took a deep breath and stepped out to stand beside him. Morpho leaped back and hissed in alarm. The other two seized blankets off the floor and threw them over their heads with high-pitched yelps of terror.

  “It’s too late!” Morpho snapped at them. “She’s already seen your faces. I told you this was a stupid meeting place!”

  “No, you didn’t!” cried the small dark orange dragon from under her blanket. “You suggested it!”

  “Cinnabar’s right,” agreed the muffled voice of the yellow dragon.

  “It’s not important who’s right!” Morpho shouted. “Although it was me! But what’s important is that there’s a HiveWing right here and what are we going to do about it and also it was your fault we couldn’t meet at my better suggestions, so there!”

  The yellow dragon winced, and Cricket noticed that one of her back wings, sticking out from under the blanket at an awkward angle, was smaller than all the others. She wondered if the SilkWing could fly at all.

  “Wait, wait,” Cricket said as the yellow dragon started edging toward the nearest aisle with the blanket still over her head. “You don’t have to hide! I’m a friend, I promise.”

  “Friends don’t let their brains get invaded and betray the revolution,” said Cinnabar, pulling her wings and tail under her blanket and huddling into a small boulder as if she hoped everyone would forget she’d been there.

  “That won’t happen,” Cricket said. “The mind control doesn’t work on me.”

  The SilkWings fell silent for a moment, even Morpho, with his mouth half open. Then the yellow dragon threw her blanket off and stared at Cricket. Her wings — well, three of them — were long and narrow and her scales were a mix of pale yellow and pale brown, like bananas and cashews mashed together. She had dark amber eyes and gold stripes painted on her claws.