Hive

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREE Altered KingdomMy knees felt weak as I negotiated the spiral staircase, trying not to look at the stone floor at the bottom. The elegant slippers cosseted my feet, a relief after the heavy boots and painful blisters. The dress proved another matter, irritating and flouncy as it hindered my downward progress.

The maids followed, whispering behind their hands as they passed other servants on our circuitous route into the bowels of the castle. The warmth from roaring fireplaces called to me and I hoisted my skirts and ploughed on. I heard the careless chatter from the women and tamped down my anger. I had let them run my bath and empty it afterwards but chased them away and performed my own ablutions. I accepted their help only when it came to fastening my dress and fixing my hair. Their eyes bugged in wonder at the rejected corset still lying across an armchair, the strange brimmed hat and goggles untouched. The fact I had bathed and dressed myself seemed beyond their comprehension. I sensed their fear as they tittered behind me and shrugged it off. The bee mark smarted beneath my sleeve, the skin raised from scrubbing and hot water. I fancied I had seen the tiny Lily squirm beneath the soap and felt relieved. She deserved better. I vowed Galveston would not hear of the mark’s presence through loose lipped servants, though Sorrel’s chatter would doubtless reveal it soon enough.

The path-delineator nestled in my bodice, its cold metal case snug against my left breast. Only one dial had changed as I inspected it earlier, indicating with every passing moment that time was a new enemy to my quest. The needle edged up more each hour, making me doubt I could recover the sword and kill Galveston before my allotted end. Each downward step mirrored my determination to try.

I recognised the long dining hall from my wedding ceremony. The sinister Forlornn flags still hung from the walls and ceiling and I half expected to find Kuiti and his father seated at the top table as before. Instead, a wall of Wasp folk rose to their feet as the wide doors clanged open and a sea of faces with slanted eyes dipped before me. The vibrant yellow of their clothing set my teeth on edge and the hairs rose on the backs of my arms as though in anticipation of a careless sting. Not the subtle ochre of bees, but the garish hues of hive raiding wasps filled the room. Wasp armour glinted, interspersed with the dark Forlornn colours of Kuiti’s remnant. My husband’s faithful hadn’t lasted long against Galveston. Man and Wasp nations had united in their destruction of everything of value in my world. The sight sickened me, but I gritted my jaw and forced myself into the kind of regal walk which would have pleased my old nurse. Strengthening my spine, I pushed my head up and jutted out my chin, managing to pass the bowing crowd with dignity and poise. The maids stopped at the doors and I sensed their combined gaze burning into my spine as I made the long walk towards doom alone.

I milked the moment, passing through the dense crowd of people bent in a bow of respect. Some wore armour and others suits and long jackets decorated with unnecessary adornments of buttons and emblems. I paused beside a muscular man wearing a dark Forlornn coloured waistcoat, waiting until he raised his head to meet my gaze. His complexion paled and I scented his guilt like a thin tendril drifting past my nose. I recognised him from the island as one of Kuiti’s faithful, though he’d worn armour that day. I remembered his mocking expression and the way he’d leered at me. He swallowed and I singled him out further with a nod, sensing unease radiating around us as I paused. He’d seemed apologetic at the city gate for my capture and in that moment I wished him and his fellow betrayers nothing but ill-will and pestilence. Instead, good breeding dictated that I make him squirm and regret ever meeting me. I held his gaze and enjoyed my victory as those around him drew back as though to avoid contamination.

Galveston waited at the top table, the dark heavy wood set perpendicular to the others and raised for effect. He held out his hands to hurry me and I heard a sharp, collective intake of breath as the gathered crowd waited for my reaction. I couldn’t discern if the remaining Forlornn subjects wished me to capitulate or protest, but knew I’d disappoint them either way. “Come, Estefania of the Melitto.” His voice dripped with impatience and a hint of glee. He waggled his fingers to assure my forward progress. With a final glance at Kuiti’s guard, I resumed my steady, regal march towards the top table. Galveston clasped my hand as I climbed the steps to the dais, leaving his seat to greet me with air kisses to both cheeks. He raised his voice to include the gathered crowd in the moment.

“Do you wish to be called Princessa or Melanis?” He clicked his heels together and dipped at the waist to create drama. His tone dripped with sarcasm. In referring to me as Estefania of the Melitto, he’d already made the choice for me. A tall hat perched on his head and a yellow and black kerchief poked from inside his collar. My eyes widened as he righted himself and the hat threatened to pitch to the ground. He repeated his question and I moved my head enough to assess the crowd either side. Galveston waited, his expression passive and his lips raised in a gentle smile. “This was your kingdom after all, before your husband traded it for you.” He worked the audience, raising laughter like a buzz from the Wasps and a gasp of pain from the Forlornn. He c****d his head. “Didn’t you know? His father forced your alliance on him, but it seems he grew attached to you. When you abandoned your marriage bed, he bartered everything he owned for your safe return.” Galveston shook his head as though commiserating.

“He was bewitched,” I mouthed, my eyes widening. I reached out a hand to grab his waistcoat and he took a step away. “He didn’t know what he was doing.”

Galveston leaned closer and his gaze traced the movement of my lips, so he didn’t misunderstand. His outstretched arm encompassed the room before the fingers landed on my forearm and squeezed until the flesh burned. “Aren’t we all bewitched by you?” he whispered. His voice rose again, entertaining those who heard it. “Now, Kuiti’s realm belongs to us. And so do you.” His eyes narrowed and his lips parted, but he swallowed the next barbed comment and it piqued my curiosity about what he hadn’t said. I suspected it would have told me too much. I needed to know, yet dreaded hearing his plans for Forlornn. And for me. “Which is it?” Galveston snarled. “Princessa of the Melitto or Melanis of Forlornn?”

Searching inside myself, I wondered what Sonora and Limah would do. It came to me like a flash of revelation and I imagined Limah’s knowing smile as I mouthed my answer. I slowed the movement of my lips and exaggerated the word. Galveston’s mouth drooped and his brow furrowed into a harsh line. He paused, but my answer stood. Those at the table behind him heard and prevented him undoing the damage. Galveston’s lips twisted into a sneer and he affected a bow which appeared exaggerated and stiff. The hat attempted to leave his head again and wobbled as he rose. “Melanis of Forlornn, it is then,” he hissed.

I nodded in reply and sensed relief mixed with surprise in the gathered crowd. I had seen enough emotion in the Forlornn guard’s face to know he wasn’t my enemy, but I may still amass friends with the right choices. My answer rumbled backwards, repeated by lips which twisted it with hidden meaning before it reached the door. The table behind Galveston contained Wasp clan and I recognised none of the curious, slant eyed faces. Reaching out, he took my arm with forced gentleness and led me around the table. I accepted the seat to his left, keeping my wits sharpened for danger. My bee mark squirmed in agony at Galveston’s touch and I ignored their protest, grateful only that somewhere in the Outer they still drew breath.

As I sat, the rest of the room slouched onto benches and dug into platters laden with food. The noise increased as they ate and relaxed, shouting over one another with full mouths like hungry cattle baying. Galveston leaned sideways, his shoulder brushing mine as he lowered his voice into confidential tones. An itch began over my wrist as the bee mark protested and I chewed the inside of my cheek to dull the raging desire to scratch. “See how men bend to our will, Estefania?” he asked. His handsome face softened. “They set traps for us, but the sting will always frighten them into submission.” His accompanying chuckle set my teeth on edge. He pushed a platter towards me and nodded to a man servant bearing bread and meat. They filled my platter between them and I pushed it away. Galveston laughed. “You still don’t trust me, dearest?”

Shaking my head, I gave him a twisted smile which projected more ill humour than fear. Inside, I quaked at the thought of the blue veined virus and its steady march towards death. I knew I had never tasted more danger than in that moment. Galveston sighed and ripped a hunk of fresh bread from the loaf set before him. He popped it into his mouth and chewed, his eyes flashing with dark amusement. Lifting his hand to his throat, he faked the throes of death and I watched him, unamused. His actions disturbed the gaudy kerchief at his neck. Grinning, he pulled off another piece of bread and held it out to me. Dipping forward before the entire company, I took the bread from his outstretched fingers like a lover. A shutter slammed down over his expression, but not before I witnessed alarm and something else. He dropped his hand and leaned towards me. “That is not appropriate, Estefania,” he hissed. “Do not test me.”

I jerked upright, sensing the thing he hadn’t said as it hovered near the surface. With another small shove, I hoped more may tumble from his lips and give me insight into his motives. Feigning innocence, I reached for his fingers and enjoyed the sense of power as he jerked them away. His cheeks flushed pink and he fumbled with the bread, using both hands to collect tufts from around where he’d tasted and dump them onto my plate. Capitalising on his discomfort, I nudged his forearm and pointed towards Kuiti’s guard. The man sat among a sea of Wasp colours, his shoulders hunched and his actions jerky. I waited until Galveston followed my intention, patting myself on the chest and widening my eyes with an imploring look. He shook his head with a slow movement of disbelief. “No!” he hissed. “No.”

I raised my chin and channelled the old Estefania Melitto, the petulant girl who had perfected the art of the tantrum. The legs of my chair screeched as I shoved it back with force and rose, my body rigid with fake temper at a perceived insult. The room stilled at the sudden painful noise and faces turned towards us. Galveston’s fingers clamped over my wrist in a spiteful vice. “Sit!” he snarled. He left me no choice and my bottom dropped onto the hard wood, the path-delineator bouncing against my tender breast. He surveyed the ready audience and forced his face into a wooden mask. When he let go of my arm, I felt the blood pool back through the veins and blew out through pursed lips to disguise my relief. The bees in my other arm roused, sending shooting pains through layers of fat, muscle and sinew to tingle my nerve endings and dull my vision.

Galveston rose to his feet and pushed his chair back. He inclined his head toward me, before addressing his fellow diners. “As a gesture of goodwill, I shall appoint a member of our new company to act as the Melanis Estefania’s personal guard.” He pointed at the man I had identified and I watched as the guard’s body stiffened. “You!” Galveston snapped, his tone betraying his irritation. “Come and swear allegiance.”

Kuiti’s guard rose, reluctance in every muscular twitch of his face. I pitied him as he stepped over the bench containing Wasps and Forlornn and made the journey to my table. Every face scrutinised his progress and whispers broke out behind him. A man to the other side of Galveston dipped forward and I heard him arguing beneath his breath. Galveston waved his wisdom away. “We’re one army now,” he shouted, his tone harsh. “You expect me to favour my own kind in appointing positions of responsibility.” His jaw worked, making the bone appear and disappear as a hard line through his cheek. “You will look for injustice in me but not find it. There’s favour enough for everyone in our new world.” He sat down with a bump and glared sideways at me. But the sound of applause began at the back of the room and worked its way forward, arriving as a cacophony of raucous sound at the same time as the Forlornn man reached us. Galveston’s face creased into a smile and his next glance at me contained a nod of approval.

The dark-curled man halted before our table, his face just visible from our raised dais. He appeared disembodied, as though his head sat upon the platter filled with bread and meat. The sight made me feel ill and I pressed my fingers over my lips. Galveston jerked his head towards me and spoke to the guard. “Her life and good health are your responsibility,” he hissed. “Do you swear to protect her against all threat until your dying day?”

The man nodded, his brown eyes wide as he breathed a hasty, “I will.”

“Then take your place!” Galveston snapped and reached for a loaded bowl filled with strips of dead animal. The guard scrambled up the steps and stood at attention behind me, his movements jerky and uncertain. A sword clanked at his thigh as he settled, incongruous against the formality of his dark breeches and fancy waistcoat. I dabbed at my mouth with a napkin as the desire to laugh chased away the sickness. I wished Limah could see me. He’d taught me everything he knew of swordplay, yet I had translated it into statesmanship all by myself.