Hive E-Book

K T Bowes

• Herausgeber: K T Bowes
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

It's all hopeless. The Wasps have won and the Bees are vanquished. Or is it really that simple?

When Estefania's quest leads her back to where she started she finds an elegant prison waiting for her.

The men of Forlornn don't realise their smiling visitor has taken over their kingdom until he tightens the net and warriors and householders alike begin to disappear.

The Wasp Lord is unstoppable, stretching his wicked influence over the Outer until the world is under his spell. As he prepares to hoist the Wasp flag over the city of men, it seems all hope is lost. And when rumors start that the Wasp Queen is on her way, Estefania knows she must act now or live with the consequences.

But Estefania's quest has an unexpected time limit. Because an intercepted prophecy reveals her life span is also at an end.

Download this final part of A Keeper's War and see how it ends.

Leseprobe

HIVE

A Keeper’s War: Book 3

K T BOWES

CONTENTS

DEDICATION

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

CHAPTER FORTY

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Dear Reader

About the Author

Copyright Notice

Disclaimer

DEDICATION

For the peacemakers like Mr Jim - who know that a little of every viewpoint is the road to perfect unity.

Perhaps they can save the bees.

CHAPTER ONE

The Cost of Submission

A bitter, metallic taste stung my tongue and I fixed a look of distaste on my face. Galveston’s guard manacled my wrists but allowed me the dignity of walking through the cobbled streets from the gates to the central fort. The castle rose above me on the highest peak, the grey of its stone facade matching the discordant sky. The Wasp Lord’s new army made a rag tag bunch of misfits. Kuiti’s former guard still wore their dark, bird-like armour and avoided my glares in their direction. My presence pricked their conscience, though I saw their loyalty to the former monarchy tamped down by fear. Galveston’s home guard displayed their garish black and yellow jackets over chests puffed with pride and arrogance. The harsh yellow clashed against the somber Forlornn colours. Something about it resonated deep within my soul and sent a shiver of foreboding along my spine.

“Sorry, Melanis.” The whisper came from behind and a strong hand guided my left elbow as I stumbled. I glanced sideways and recognised the face partially obscured by a helmet. Kuiti’s personal guardsman lowered his eyes against the force of my surprised expression, his grip causing the bees beneath my skin to squirm and tingle. I shook him off, my narrowed eyes hard and accusatory. My lips moved without sound, eager to brand him a traitor. Swallowing, he lowered his chin and instinct told me he already knew his faults. “Sorry,” he breathed again and fell back in step with the others.

People emerged from their homes to watch the spectacle and I observed them through shuttered eyelashes. Dirty and emaciated, their eyes channelled hunger and desperation. Many of the houses lining the narrow streets disgorged more spectators than I assumed possible, rural communities drawn to the city through their need. The cobbles proved icy underfoot and the sound of trickling water met the brooms used to clear the pavements and roadways. It seemed as though the world halted and held its breath to watch my steady tramp towards certain death.

Where the Forlornn traitors hung back and avoided my gaze, the Wasp contingent stepped up their cruelty to infill the gap. Only nature ignored my progress, creating its dirty slush and emboldening the heavy overheads clouds for another deluge. The journey felt endless, not helped by the constant noise emerging from the large hole in Sorrel’s face. “I disarmed her myself,” he chattered to the guard leading the way. Anger burned in my heart and blurred his furry outline as he stepped through the slushy surface. “She’s a brilliant opponent.”

The Wasp commander gave a disinterested uplift of his chin and I sensed disbelief in the set of his shoulders. Sorrel dared a glance back at me and I narrowed my eyes to wordlessly promise him serious harm if we ever met again. He grinned and waved, the action conspiratorial and without guile. Foolish child. I wondered what treasures the shifty Galveston had promised him. I feared for the remnant when Sorrel divulged their whereabouts and led the Wasp Lord to the careful hidey Limah created for them. A shake of my head dismissed the concern but poorly. I cared nothing for Hosta and her crowd, but Lily had stolen my heart and I imagined ways I might bargain for her freedom.

I expected a prison cell, but instead, the guard led me to Kuiti’s chamber and locked me inside. The room appeared unchanged from my last visit, the same dark furniture seated where my late husband left it. An ornate chair rested at an angle from the desk, the white of the seat covering stark against the onyx of the treated wood. I imagined poor Kuiti signing documents of state with his strong fingers gripping the quill pen which lay abandoned on the desk’s polished surface. My boots squelched as I edged closer, drawn to the scribbled writing on the parchment there. Wet footprints followed me across the wooden floor, my footwear spreading clumps of ice from the worn treads and dotting a weaving path behind me. I moved the quill aside and my lips stumbled over the Forlornn words printed on the page. An official looking document, it seemed to relate to household matters. Closer inspection revealed only the cost of maintaining his army’s weaponry. Sighing, I pushed the chair into its gap beneath the desk. My marriage seemed a lifetime ago and my memories of Kuiti hazy from lack of use. I wondered if I might have grown to love him a little given the chance, but doubted it. Pompous and entitled, he reminded me of my former self. I pitied any offspring caught in the centre of such a quest for self-aggrandisement. We would have destroyed each other and everyone else within range.

The last time I clambered onto the wide four poster bed, my new husband watched me with eyes filled with lust and expectation. Doped by Limah’s bee smoke, I had felt sleepy and disoriented. This time saw me exhausted as I loosened my boots and kicked them onto the rug, lowering my aching body into the soft feather bed coverings. I pushed the path-delineator underneath my pillow and settled my head over it. Another thought crept to the fore in the moments between tiredness and slumber. The Forlornn king had ordered me poisoned and someone slipped rhododendron into my drink. I would need to survive more than a day this time, or the Bee Queen’s Champion would be lost forever.

CHAPTER TWO

The Wasp Lord

I woke from a sleep infiltrated by the dead and dying. My dream self walked Sonora’s ruined hive, the finality of its invasion revealed in horrific mirages of broken bodies and last breaths. I woke sweating, my many layers of inadequate clothing stuck to my skin and my head pounding. My guilt at abandoning Lily rose to the fore, desperate to save her from the same fate as my mother’s kin.

A platter of food rested on top of a low cabinet adjacent to the slender mullioned window. The thought of sustenance created a sudden dampening of my tongue. My cracked lips smarted as I parted them in hope, remembering as I sat up that I’d vowed not to eat food produced by strange hands. Groaning, I bent double and pulled my knees up to my chest. My joints ached and I heard reluctant tendons pop and crack in protest.

Keys jangled against the lock and I stiffened. My mind whirred with possibilities and I remembered late to jam my fingers below the soft down pillow to retrieve Limah’s path-delineator. I managed to shove it into the deep side pocket of my breeches before arranging myself under the bed covers in the manner of a princess, though I made a poor and raggedy impression of one. The door opened a crack, denying me sight of the newcomer. A gentle rap on the wooden surface betrayed someone of conscience. I opened my mouth to give them permission to enter, realising again the irritation of my curse as no sound emerged.

“May I enter?” Galveston’s voice sounded calm and unruffled, but my chest clenched in response and I hauled the sheets up to my chin. Hearing no reply, he pushed a foot and then a nose around the door. “Ah,” he said, his face splitting wide in a smile. “You’re awake.”

The change of stance both confused and alarmed me. As he pushed through the gap and closed the door behind him, memories surfaced of the Galveston who visited the island to court me. His boyish features gave him an appearance of coyness, which failed to resonate with the vitriolic, spiteful Wasp Lord who tortured my counselor in the bowels of the castle keep. I drew my legs up closer to my chest to protect myself, Limah’s careful training gone in an instant.

Galveston ventured closer, his eyes narrowed in what might appear as concern. “Darling,” he crooned, “you look dreadful.”

I sighed and slid my eyes towards the door, not wishing to enter into his latest game. Limah’s words returned to me, a distant echo of our shared world. ‘Sometimes we must sacrifice the strength of a cut to hit faster than our opponent. You should concentrate on reading the fight better. A successful follow-up must always lurk behind a pre-emptive defence.’ I forced my gaze back to Galveston’s handsome face and channelled a sense of pathos. My journey brought me back to the start, but also to the centre of the war. Best he think me pathetic and undefended for the moment. I fluttered my eyelashes and looked away, as though my plight was too hopeless to share. Galveston sank onto the mattress, an edginess behind his caring air. “You will not speak to me?” He whispered the words as a finger reached out to stroke my cheek. I forced myself not to shrink from contact, ashamed to acknowledge that somewhere deep inside my heart, he still captivated my interest. I shrugged and pointed to my lips, faking a look of distress. The mask slipped from his face and sympathy replaced suspicion. “My little spy did tell me of your misfortune. Perhaps you’ll understand that I want the best for you, Estefania. Escaping my help seems to strip away even more of your limited resources. Stop resisting, Princessa.”

I forced myself to nod, biting the inside of my cheek until a metallic tang infused my taste buds. I turned on my side and his hand slipped from my cheek to my shoulder. Closing my eyes, I feigned despair and great sadness, wondering if it would prove a convincing enough act to have convinced even Bliss. She provided my benchmark, her intimate knowledge of my every whim and expression making her hardest to fool. I imagined her standing in front of me, hands on hips as she discerned my true motives. Galveston rose and I heard the clank of his sword. It seemed Sorrel had delivered everything, including my fighting ability and the Wasp Lord came prepared. I heaved out a sigh of exasperation, surprised to hear the sound whoosh into the pillow. After weeks of nothing, it seemed deafening and strange. The plate clattered against the cupboard as Galveston retrieved it. “Eat,” he said. “You’ll feel better.”

I turned to face him, eyeing the plate and then his face as I drew my head back and forth in denial. I refused to fall for the same trick again. I would starve to death before I allowed them to subdue me with potions. Galveston’s brow furrowed. “You don’t trust me.” He spoke the words as a statement, not a question. “I don’t blame you.” His smile appeared wan and filled with regret. “The Forlornn king tried to poison you on your last visit. I gave your nurse the cure, but she didn’t believe me.” He cocked his head to the side. “I insisted they put you in the mortuary and furnished the room with ice to reduce your temperature. It’s an old remedy for rhododendron intoxication.” I blinked and his lips quirked up on one side. “She didn’t tell you? I’m not surprised. She refused to allow me access when I might have helped.” I gave a tiny shake of my head in response and he shrugged. Reaching for the jug of liquid one handed, he poured it into the pottery tumbler on the cabinet. Then without taking his gaze from my face, he took a decent slug of the contents. When he held it out to me, I took it, thirst and starvation proving a willing mistress to his charm. I gulped the sweet water, closing my eyes and ignoring the rivulets which ran either side of my mouth.

Galveston sampled the bread and I snatched the remainder from his fingers, pushing it between my lips in case he changed his mind. I didn’t breakfast like a princess and to his credit, he made no comment on my behaviour. When his teeth tore off a strip of the red flesh and held out the rest, my stomach roiled in horror and I turned my face away and shook my head. He dumped the spoiled fragments on the platter and gave a courtly bow. “Ah, I forget, Princess. The flora and fauna is limited, due to the weather. But I will have the kitchen staff hunt out something suitable in future.” Dipping forward without warning, he pressed his lips to my forehead and rose. My fists balled beneath the bedding and I kept my expression impassive.

Galveston’s heels clicked against the floorboards as he walked towards the door and he stopped with his fingers circling the ornate handle shaped into an effigy of a raven. “I’m glad you saw sense and returned home, Estefania,” he said. He paused and his tone became tight and formal. “The Forlornn royalty is either defeated or fled. There is no one to fear within this city’s walls.” He waved a hand towards me. “I’ll send maids to attend you. The Wasp court has long awaited your homecoming. Be ready to greet your subjects.”

CHAPTER THREE

Altered Kingdom

My 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 cocked 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.

CHAPTER FOUR

Empty Plans

I refused to eat anything not sampled by my host first, pushing Galveston past the point of courtesy to open irritation. “You’re no use to me dead!” he hissed, glaring as I slid my plate sideways yet again to prevent the servers piling more bloodied food onto its pottery surface. I shrugged and looked away, surveying the room with a warrior’s eye. The soldiers drank, their manner growing bawdier and their voices increasing in volume with every passing minute. I stole a backward glance at my new protector and found him behind me, legs splayed, eyes staring over my head and one hand on his sword. I shivered, not trusting him at all. A deep inhale moved the path-delineator in my bodice. Strong men guarded the only exit and my maids still hovered nearby, flirting with the armour-clad males with giggles wrought from behind fluttering fingers.

Galveston rose and sawed a hunk of flesh from a joint delivered between us. My innards cringed at the notion of devouring another creature, but my eyes sparkled at the sharpness of the knife in his hand and the two pronged fork he used for stabbing the slices. The volume in the room matched the level of intoxication, but I waited it out further. I declined anything but sweet water, careful to make Galveston pour my portion and sip from the mug first. It drove him wild. “Use your new guard!” he snapped, pushing away my drink. I lowered my eyes and fixed a sad expression on my face, forcing him to relent. “Very well!” he said with a sigh, shoving his own plate aside and lifting the refreshed pitcher. “I’m grateful for your trust.”

I cast my gaze around the dining hall, looking for any sign of Sorrel. My brow puckered as I saw only grown men.

Galveston’s face screwed up in concentration as he watched me and then he shrugged. “You search for that boy who betrayed you?” My eyes widened and I nodded. I spread my hands either side of me in question and he grinned. “Can’t remember. I have spies everywhere. I tell them what they want to hear and my guard takes care of the rest.” Sorrel’s foolish grin returned to haunt me and I pitied the silly boy his naivety.

“I read your thoughts.” Galveston pushed meat into his mouth. Specks of chewed flesh appeared on his full lips. “He isn’t dead. Just in prison somewhere.”

Shifting in my seat, I affected a fake lurch as though tipping sideways and grabbed his arm. The sticky tonic splashed from the pitcher and drenched the plate of meat. Galveston set the jug down with a crash and the action attracted more attention from the rest of the table than I anticipated. With a shake of my head and a hand wave which would have made Bliss beam with pride, I acknowledged the concern in the interested faces either side of me and rose with uneven, jerky movements. My hand steadied me against the table and my napkin fell over the meat plate. Affecting a dramatic swoon, I managed to grasp the two pronged fork but not the knife handle as I sank back into my seat.

“She isn’t poisoned!” Galveston protested to a man near his elbow. “I tasted everything first.”

“She didn’t eat much,” another voice remarked.

“Bees don’t eat flesh,” a woman’s voice commented, the tone dismissive and without concern.

Gripping the long fork beneath the folds of the napkin, I closed it within the swathes of my skirt and stood again. Fear and anticipation sent a tremble into my legs which added to my skilled play acting. Galveston clutched my elbow. “I’ll accompany you,” he said, his tone confidential. Using my free hand, I raised it to my head and tilted it sideways, closing my eyes and resting my cheek against my palm. Understanding flooded his handsome face and he nodded, his dark hat wobbling and the eye glasses slipping from their space above the brim. “Yes, the rest will revive you, Estefania. Sleep well.” He placed a kiss upon my forehead which made the smallest bee in my forearm wriggle and I struggled to keep hold of the napkin and its forbidden contents. His eyes widened as he stared at someone behind me. “Go with her!” he snapped.

I made the long walk down the centre aisle alone, affecting the occasional stumble as the revellers studied my progress. Footsteps sounded behind me when I reached half way and I resisted turning. My mind whirred with plans to extract the fork without anyone seeing. My maids rushed forward to assist and I waved them away as though too tired for their girlish chatter and antics. They shot nervous glances towards Galveston’s table but seemed heartened by my smile, falling back to flirt with the guards even before I passed through the wide doors into the outside corridor. At the bottom of the spiral staircase I halted and inclined my head, finding the Forlornn guard at my elbow. Leaning closer, he breathed in a tone slightly less than sinister, “Keep walking, Melanis.”

The heavy doors to the food hall shut with a dull thud and the Wasp guards resumed their position either side of the entrance. I saw their gaze slide to me and faltered. I had escaped with the fork hidden in the folds of napkin and skirts, but the spiral staircase meant stepping and required me to lift the heavy swathes of fabric. I knew without testing the action that I would either trip, or drop the fork with a clang onto the stone surface.

My new guard’s fingers infused me with warmth as they closed around my fisted hand. He snatched napkin and fork in a deft movement which looked smooth enough to pass unnoticed. His other hand moved up to take my elbow and with an impressive sleight of hand, he pushed the stolen objects inside his black waistcoat. I gaped as the napkin disappeared through the armpit hole and nestled against his chest. I closed my eyes in a long blink and bit into my bottom lip, grateful for my inability to laugh out loud. My eyes watered with mirth and I forced myself to clamber upstairs and avoid staring at my new guard’s long, single breast. “They’re watching you,” he hissed beside me, hauling on my elbow as I stumbled. His fingers pressed against the bee mark in the crook of my arm and at the top of the stairs, I stopped to check for observers before slapping his chest with my fist. His eyes narrowed in amusement. “Don’t test me, woman,” he warned, releasing my arm. “I would rather die from their sting than accept servitude to you!”

The sound of voices carried along the wide corridor and the man snapped to attention, his body stiff and his gaze facing forward. His left hand strayed to the sword at his right hip and my brow furrowed in surprise at the unusualness of the stance. Limah instructed me on the principles of fighting a cack-hander, but the opportunity to test my skill never arose. Quirking an eyebrow, I stalked towards my chamber and heard his footsteps creak the wooden floorboards in my wake. The servants left the door to my room open, inclining their heads and moving aside as I barrelled through their group. They turned the corner to the head of the staircase carrying away my male clothes as I shot through the open door. The man pushed a heavy boot into the gap as I tried to force it closed, blasting into the room with temper in his eyes. A tiny girl in the process of turning back the bedsheets jumped and squeaked. At the look on my face, she bolted without offering assistance.

Kuiti’s guard pulled a long key from the outside lock, closing the door and securing it behind him. I froze and surveyed the room for ready weapons, my gaze settling on an ornate plate hanging to my right. The man sighed, leaned against the door and raised his hands, palms facing outward. He tracked my gaze to the plate and back and shook his head. “Answer my questions, Melanis. I promise to leave you unharmed.”

My eyes narrowed and I moved so that both legs absorbed the weight of my body. My right arm twitched and readied itself to snatch the plate regardless of his empty promises. I counted the movements required to dodge sideways, crack the plate over his skull and then jab the remaining shard into his eye. Four. Five if I proved unlucky. My gaze strayed to his dangerous left hand. He hadn’t reached for the sword yet and my mind worked through his possible movements. Drawing the sword would tip his shoulder away from me. I could smash the plate across his back and then aim for his neck, but I’d need speed on my side. As if in answer, the skirts rustled around my trembling legs. Cut to a tighter design than I preferred, they obstructed my ability to stretch as far as I needed. Six moves then. Seven if unlucky.

“Stop it!” The words rapped out as an order and I jerked my gaze back to his face, my head cocking to one side. His shoulders slumped and he ran a hand through his dark, unruly hair, reminding me of Limah’s stress tell. “I won’t hurt you, Melanis,” he said, the words emerging mid sigh. “Just tell me where Kuiti is, so I can rescue my king.”

CHAPTER FIVE

An Unlikely Ally

His question left me gaping and my stance wavered. The guard jerked his head towards me. “You can fight?”

I remained on point, storing energy in my core and ready to distribute it to my limbs should it prove necessary. The upward tilt of my head showed I considered the conclusion obvious. His body sagged against the door and he sighed, rubbing the backs of both hands across tired eyes shadowed by dark rings. “You said nothing throughout dinner, Melanis. But please speak to me now. Where is my Lord?”

Possibilities sped through my mind, a litany of lies I could mime to assure myself of his loyalty. The old Estefania had them to hand, ready to fling out into the air and save herself. The new Estefania dismissed them one at a time. The path-delineator pressed against my skin, reminding me of my shortened life and diminishing opportunities. Perhaps this moment would be my last, slain by a disgruntled Forlornn guard. Sighing, I relaxed my stance and moved towards a wide armchair. Its soft folds welcomed me in. Something clicked in my soul and I paused, hearing the slight inhale from my lips and stilling. With excitement building, I tried to speak but no words emerged. Yet the sensation of finality had gone and left hope in its place. Restoration may yet come before my life’s end.

The guard watched me, his gaze following my movements. With trepidation in my heart, I considered how I might deliver the bad news. I patted my breast bone and saw his brows furrow. Then I pressed an index finger over my lips. When I saw his eyes widen, I raised my hands out to my sides with the palms facing upward and shook my head. Realisation flooded his face and his shoulders sagged further. “You can’t speak,” he said. “Someone stole your voice.”

I nodded and winced, knowing the hopelessness radiating from him would soon turn to rage. Pointing to the bed and then to myself, I saw him understand I referred to my husband. His interest sparked and he shot questions like arrows, leaving his position by the door and drawing closer. “Where is he?” he demanded. “We searched for you for days in the far reaches of the realm. We returned and he retired for the night, dismissing me. I’ve heard tales of a messenger arriving with news of you. Prince Kuiti went to the keep and spoke to many on his way, but nobody saw him again. I searched the grounds myself. Nothing suggests he left the safety of the castle.” He waved his primary arm behind him, though I sensed he required mere seconds to return it to the hilt of his sword. Then his shoulders slumped. “Why am I asking you? You abandoned him like the Wasp Lord said and arrived back at the city in a raggedy state. How can you give me answers? This is our punishment for supporting Kuiti when the Wasps spoke against his father’s lax rule. We helped him overthrow the foolish old king and now we have no one.”

Placing my hands over my eyes, I sighed, again hearing the whoosh of breath leaving my lips. The guard’s fingers tapped my sleeve in a motion of impatience. I forced myself to drop my hands and face my destiny.