Page 14 of Make Me Bee-lieve

Except, right now, I’m staring at one from across the dining room table, and he’s… I squint at him. He’s young, I believe. But as an immortal being, I’m not a good judge of such things. The man dabs at his mouth with one of the rose-petal napkins and readjusts the delicate jewelry on his face. With the see-through glass covering his eyes, they make his eyes appear bigger than they actually are. I like them, I decide.

“Thank you, Your Majesty, for the water,” he says. Sitting on either side of him are a pair of my knights. Aunt Elza sits beside me, and spoons a mouthful of green dew into her mouth before clearing her throat.

“She isn’t the queen yet,” she says in a sharp tone.

The man’s face falls. “O-Oh. Sorry, then. Your … Highness? I’m Calvin, by the way.”

I open my mouth to reply, but Aunt Elza beats me to the punch. Again. Pity she wasn’t born a man, so I could fuck her and be rid of her, too. Two. More. Weeks.

“This is the Princess Polina Anthophila, third of her name. And I am Elza, majordomo to the crown,” she says, and places her hand on her breastbone. Her mandibles click together, and I grind my teeth at the sound. “And you are our Caretaker. We have many questions for you.”

Calvin continues to stare at me, his cheeks reddening by the second.

“Oh, um. Of course,” he says. “Of course you do, I mean. Ask away.”

I shoot a glare at Aunt Elza, daring her to steamroll me again. But luckily for her, she doesn’t. She merely clicks her mandibles and waits for me to ask the first question.

“Why was our hive moved, Caretaker? Is it punishment for something we have, or have not, done?”

Calvin’s mouth falls open. “What?” He rubs the back of his neck. Why is he so nervous? Didn’t he come down here to speak with us for a reason? “You mean why we took your home from the guild? Sorry about that. That must have been scary.”

“Yes. You could say that.”

He tugs at the collar of his shirt, which I’m noticing is a habit of his. A rivulet of sweat travels down his face, clinging to the curve of his jawbone. And what a lovely jawbone it is, complete with a bit of dark fur lining his face. “I didn’t pick which hive I went home with. Jules said the guild master wanted me to have it.”

I continue to stare at him, unblinking. “That doesn’t answer the question. Why were we moved in the first place?”

“Oh, because the guild is forty-five minutes across the city even without heavy traffic, so?—”

Aunt Elza interrupts. “What is traffic?” She looks at me, and I shrug.

Calvin’s throat bobs. “Nothing. Never mind. It was too far to go all the way across town every night, so Jules got special permission from the guild master to take you guys all the way over to my place so I could learn. Then, in a couple of weeks, I’m going to look after my brother’s hive while he’s on a trip.”

My eyes narrow. “We are not ‘guys.’ We are women.”

Florian chitters from the other end of the table. “Ahem.” He clears his throat and narrows his eyes at me.

Ugh, right. He’s here. I had forgotten.

“Except for Florian, my fiancé,” I rectify.

Florian flashes me a sickly-sweet grin. It’s not genuine. Never is, with him.

Calvin chews his bottom lip as he glances from me to Florian, then back to me. “Wait, he’s your—oh. Um.” He combs a hand through his hair, which is still damp and glossy from sweat. “But … wait. Don’t male bees?—”

“He’s aware,” I say flatly. Florian shrugs before going back to inspect his nails. “We do what we do for the betterment of the hive, not for ourselves. Florian is no exception to that and understands his role. But let us cut to the chase, Caretaker. Are we to expect another upheaval anytime soon?”

Calvin shakes his head. “No. They said I could keep this hive, unless I decide to give it back. Which I hadn’t planned on doing, but?—”

“Good, good. Then we can have the coronation ball in peace,” Aunt Elza says, interrupting again. She looks at me and smiles. “Everything will go according to plan. The ball can also be in celebration of our Caretaker visiting us. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

My brows knit as I consider her idea. “A celebration for both my coronation and for the Caretaker?” My nose wrinkles in distaste. It’s not as though I don’t like the Caretaker. I do. Very much, in fact. Perhaps too much, which confuses me. He’s kinder than I thought he would be, and I like the way his jewelry frames his face. And his head of hair … oh, those sandy locks of hair that I’ve fantasized about running my fingers through. No. No, no, no. A silly, girlish crush is no reason to derail all of my plans.

Absolutely not. This is unprecedented. And while, yes, the Caretaker coming to our hive himself is a big deal indeed, my coronation has been planned for years. Years! I will not simply make space on my day to accommodate something so last-minute. Not even for him.

“No,” I say. “I will not share.”

“But Your Highness, it will be too difficult to host two balls in the same week,” she protests. From the other end of the table, Florian yawns into one of his hands. Then Aunt Elza drops her voice so only I can hear her. “And we wouldn’t wish to offend the Caretaker by sending him home without the proper respect, would we? Think of the hive, Your Highness, and what your mother would have wanted.”

---