Page 22 of Make Me Bee-lieve

“Women,” I say, staring down at her through hooded lids now. “You were … you were right the first time.”

Her lips curl into a flirtatious grin. My heart skips again. I should probably see a cardiologist about that when I get back home. “Do you have a wife back home, Calvin?”

I shake my head. We still haven’t moved from our spot against the wall. Anyone could walk by and see the two of us together like this. Would that be a problem for her? With some reluctance, Polina edges away from me at last, leaving me feeling bereft of her absence.

Stupid, Calvin. Don’t get attached to a literal princess. A fae princess at that. She’s off-limits. Probably.

Maybe.

Not like she’d go out with you anyway, even if you asked, dumbass.

Sighing, I look away and gnaw the inside of my cheek, hoping she’ll lose interest in the topic. A few more bees walk past, their abdomens swaying back and forth with each step. When they reach up, they pause, turn to Polina, and bow. She nods, and they head off through the kitchen doorway.

“We should probably continue,” she rasps.

“Y-Yeah. Good idea,” I say, hoping she can’t hear the tremor in my voice. “Just be careful. Don’t want to end up squashed against a wall again.”

She flicks a salacious glance over her shoulder. “And have you catch me again? There are worse ways to spend an afternoon.”

I hold back a groan and bite down on my fist as I hurry after her. So much for my blood pressure.

Polina has dragged me around through the kitchens, the royal crypt, and the nursery. The only place left to explore is the study, which she insists is her favorite spot on the tour and the place where she spends most of her free time. Which is to say, not very often. A royal’s life is never easy, even with Majordomo Elza one step behind, doing most of the trivial tasks for her.

Dozens upon dozens of bookshelves make up the expansive room. Surprisingly, the shelves themselves aren’t made out of honeycomb, but rather a deep, rich wood that smells divine. There are several matching wooden desks placed around the room, with a couple of drones sitting at them, their noses firmly in their books. They don’t look up when we enter, thank goodness. The less attention we draw to ourselves, the better.

“Made by our friends, the red mason bee fae,” she explains as we pass the desks. “A gift for my mother’s coronation, long ago. We don’t talk to them very often, but when we do, we are friendly.”

I nod along. “Another fae, then?”

“Yes. They’re bee fae like us, only they’re craftsmen. They produce all sorts of artisan goods. We trade with them,” she explains.

Polina guides me through the stacks until we reach the very last one. It’s back here that she finally takes a breath, and I notice the swell of her chest rise and fall. My pants tighten, and I curse my hormones for my cock’s betrayal. Wayward boners were a problem back in high school, and I thought I’d grown out of that. Apparently not.

“I used to come here all the time when I was a child,” she whispers. I loom close beside her, and she reaches up to grab one of the books off the shelf. “It’s one of the few places where I can wholly relax, you see. I’ve always enjoyed reading. It’s…” She pauses, her eyes narrowing.

“An escape?” I suggest.

“Precisely,” she says. “An escape from reality. Although our lives must look like a dream to you.”

Not really. I shove my hands in my pockets and try to keep my expression as impassive as possible. If anything, their lives look … difficult. Especially hers, having to deal with a fiancé she doesn’t even like and an over-involved majordomo who triggers her every other hour.

“Do you have any books written by your people?” I ask, gesturing to the stacks. All I’ve seen so far are human author names.

Polina shakes her head sadly. “No. None. We don’t have a single writer among us. Yes, we read. Sometimes for fun, but mostly for the knowledge. Living alongside humans is much easier when you understand them.”

“I find that immersion is best when trying to understand a different culture from your own,” I say.

Polina snorts. “Yes, I’d imagine that would be the case. Unfortunately, most of your kind are eager to smack us with electric fly swatters or smash us with a rolled-up newspaper if we get too close.”

I wince. No lies detected, there. But it sucks to hear.

“Not that I have any experience with that. I can’t leave the hive,” she says sadly. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Yeah, you said.” I still can’t understand how that’s even possible. I get wanting to keep the princess safe, but to deny her the outside world seems cruel. I try to imagine living my entire life inside the confines of four walls and shudder. That’s … unhealthy, to say the least. “But you must be allowed to go outside a little, right?”

“Only to the gardens,” she says. “Never beyond them. I’ve never been to the poppy fields my people talk about so often.” Polina brushes her fingers across one of the book spines, and without thinking, I reach up and take her hand into mine. Too late, I think back to what she said about not touching her without permission, and my cheeks burn from the shame.

Swallowing, I mumble, “I’m sorry. I … I forgot.”

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