ROYAL CUPS
I waited until Edward left and then went outside in search of my grandmother. I found her in the garden draped in a veil of netting; luminous in the soft light of morning, tending to her bees. She was studying a tray of comb too intently to notice me, droning something soft and tuneless under her breath. She was the only person I’d ever seen who handled the hives with her bare hands. They seemed to recognize her touch, crawling over her fingers and wrists as if she too were a part of the colony.
“Got your hand in the honeypot, I see,” I said.
“Good heavens—Damen?” Dearie looked up, startled. “I wasn’t expecting to see you.”
“Yeah, well, surprise.”
It was stupid of me to have come. I was stupid. I didn’t belong here. But Grandma Dearie raised her veil to beam up at me with a
