The Bee Queen

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER ONEDestination

“The labyrinth is a dreadful idea.” I walked behind Limah as he picked his way through the forest. It seemed scrubbier after the few weeks of constant snow, the pines bowing their elegant heads beneath the weight collecting on their boughs.

“It’s safe.” Ever loath to waste words, he forged ahead, a crown of sleet gathering on his dark curls.

“Limah!” My strangled cry arrested him and he spun to face me, an avalanche of white dust cascading onto the bridge of his regal nose. He blinked and shook it off.

“What?” He spread his arms out wide and searched my frightened expression for an explanation.

“I don’t want to. I can’t.” My hands fluttered over my lips, the thought of returning to the cloistered darkness making my stomach roil. “I won’t.” Taking a step backwards, I felt for the courage and determination of yesterday and found it lacking. I took another step back and Limah raised a hand in placation.

“Stand still, Este.”

“I’m not going back.” A princess by birth-right, I channelled arrogance and a latent sense of privilege into my tone and the haughty tilt of my head. Narrowing my eyes, I peered through amber eyelashes dusted with snowflakes. “You can’t make me.” He’d shortened my name and it should have alerted me to the rest of his sentence. Limah always called me Lady or used my full name. Unless I got into difficulty. Then he shortened my name and I always loved the way he said it. I felt myself softening and stopped moving backwards.

“Este!” Frustration crossed the handsome side of Limah’s face. Irises as black as coals glinted from beneath dark brows and olive skin. His leather breeches and clanking armour distinguished him as a warrior, but the authority in his straight bearing and muscular physique marked him a leader. I remembered his efforts to rescue me from the well and the way he’d whispered my name then. Like he cared.

“Don’t move.” His instruction startled me. It held warning, but something else resonated behind it. The deep scar bisecting the right side of his face took over as he blinked, scoring his eyelid before releasing its hold with the reappearance of his brown eye.

He exhaled, a snort of frustration in an impatient man. He took a step forward and I matched it with another backward. My lips drew back in an arrogant snarl, petulance in my tone. I grew sick of being told what to do. “You wish to scare me, so I obey you. I won’t play your game.” The alarm in his eyes told me otherwise.

“Estefania, your left foot is less than a stride away from the edge of a ravine. One more step back will take you over the edge.” Limah smirked. “I recommend you remain still or at least walk toward me.”

I couldn’t resist a look behind and my eyes widened in horror. Tall trees alongside had masked the drop, lining the path like divisive sentries. I shuddered and my foot moved, sending a pile of loose snow tumbling backwards. It scattered and divided, coating branches and bark on its haphazard plunge. Limah gritted his teeth and lurched towards me. His knuckles showed white as his fingers caught around my wrist and he hauled me against him. My chin crashed against the metal of his chest-piece and my teeth rattled in my head. “Minimal danger!” Shoving his chest proved fruitless as he remained immovable, my feeble push making no inroad. “I knew it was there, Counselor.” I lifted my chin and saw the smirk cross his face at my use of his new title.

He took a step away and affected a small bow. “Did you, Lady? Did you indeed?”

“Yes.” I hid my shaking fingers behind me and jutted out my chin. “But I refuse to return to your dungeon of lost souls and your horrid, clanking machine.”

Limah’s nostrils flared and he set his face into its customary blank expression. “As you wish, my Queen.”

I swallowed. The ease of his capitulation troubled me. My eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What other plan do you have?”

Limah shrugged and turned away, smoothing the snow at the roots of a pine with the edge of his boot. I watched his easy movements and my gaze followed the line of the trunk heavenward. It reached so high, its tip penetrated the thick canopy overhead and disappeared out of sight. With a groan of effort, Limah bent his knees and used the tree trunk to lean against, sinking so his backside perched on a knotty root. He gathered up the ends of his coat to protect it from the damp ground and settled to watch me.

“Well?” I put my hands on my hips and glared at his passive expression. “I need another plan. A safe place must exist where we can rest and decide on a course of action.” I patted my lips with a finger almost blue with cold as I mused. “I shall need to raise an army against Galveston. Do you know of any who may still feel loyalty to my kin?”

“Yes.” Limah nodded and the faintest smile strayed across his lips before disappearing. “I know of such a place.”

My chest heaved with relief and I released the breath I held. I took a step towards him and my heavy boots scuffed in the snow. “But what about my clothes? I’m a princess dressed as a very poor man.” I wrinkled my nose and plucked at the ripped jacket and threadbare breeches. “They won’t take me seriously.”

Limah raised an eyebrow and rested his hands in his lap. “You’re a queen-in-waiting Estefania. They will know you.” He lifted a finger to point at my attire. “And you wear my good friend’s clothes. He’s not a poor man, just a stupid one.”

I huffed out a breath and narrowed my eyes. “So, I’m a queen-in-waiting dressed as a stupid man. They still won’t listen.”

Limah pushed himself to his feet, his impeccable balance giving the movement an element of unexpected grace. “They will listen to you, Este. A wise man follows the character of his leader, not the style of his adornments. One leads to victory and the other to an out-of-date wardrobe.”

“You mock me,” I rebuked and Limah’s left eyebrow quirked heavenward.

“You make it so irresistible. It would be criminal not to take advantage.” He stretched out his arm to indicate the path and I shuddered, joining him as freezing temperatures drove us onward. “So, where are we going?” I demanded, slipping and sliding amid tree roots and bramble.

Limah kept his gaze on the path ahead, picking our route through the forest with surefooted ease. “To a dungeon filled with lost souls and a horrid, clanking machine,” he replied.