Page 21 of Make Me Bee-lieve

Florian lets out a long, exasperated sigh and turns to walk away. “Fine, fine. I will go do your busy work for you, I suppose.”

Polina’s right eye twitches as Florian stalks away. “Hey, Florian! You’re going to be dead soon, so maybe try to make something of yourself before then?”

Florian whirls around to shoot her four middle fingers.

I choke on my own saliva. Okay, so apparently that gesture means something in honeybee fae society, too. Good to know. If this is considered fae humor, then I am seriously screwed.

“Po-Polina,” I stammer, looking back at her.

Majordomo Elza rolls her eyes and flounces away, her skirts fluttering behind her, without another word.

I look back at Polina and arch an eyebrow. “He’s going to be dead soon, Po?”

My head is spinning, and my mouth is dry. So much for sensitivity.

Polina shrugs, like none of what just happened is a big deal. “Yes. Once we copulate on my maiden flight, he’ll die immediately. I was hoping he’d try to make more of a name for himself before then, but he doesn’t seem to care about anything at all.”

My breath hitches. “I-I can’t imagine why,” I choke out.

I’m so screwed, aren’t I?

CALVIN

“And here are the brood cells. Normally, they’d all be full, but the majority have matured now,” Polina says, gesturing to the pulsating cells. The larvae that do remain inside the cells are white and wriggly looking, and it’s hard not to gag from the sight. I know that they aren’t actually maggots, but the similarities are unfortunate. I lean over, peering into one of the cells as Polina stands there, her hands on her hips, looking almost bored. “The last of my mother’s young,” she murmurs.

There’s a despondent ring to her tone, and when I turn around, she’s not even looking at me. She’s frowning at the wall, as though pulled back in time by a distant memory casting a shadow over her thoughts.

“Po?” I say, taking a step toward her. “Are you all right?”

She snaps her attention to me and plasters on one of her fake smiles. “Yes. My apologies. I merely had a moment of brain fog. Didn’t eat enough nectar at breakfast, I suppose.”

I rub the back of my neck. “Listen, if there’s anything you’d like to get off your chest, or?—”

She arches an eyebrow. “Why are you talking about my chest?”

Blinking, I put my hands up in defense. “N-No, it’s just an expression. I mean, if there’s anything you would like to talk about, you can. I’ll listen. I have an extremely chatty mother, so I’m used to being a good listener.”

Polina stares at me like I just sprouted a pair of wings and horns, purses her lips, then says, “Why would I need to ‘talk’ about anything?”

This is going south, fast. I shake my head. “Never mind. I just wanted you to know that I’m all ears for you, in case anything was bothering you. To give counsel, that is.”

Right. Counsel. Like I’m in any position to give sage advice.

But something seems to click, and understanding flashes across her glossy eyes. “Oh! Oh, no.” She laughs. “Please, don’t worry about it. I’m fine. Fine! Really. Next stop on our tour is the kitchen! Come this way, Caretaker.”

We walk past the gooey, larvae-laden cells and stroll through another gilded hallway. Honey drips from the ceilings and spatters onto the ground. Polina deftly steps around a spot of goo like it isn’t even there.

When we finally reach the entrance to the kitchen, a tall door with an ornate glass handle, she pauses before turning to me. “Mind your step inside,” she says with a wink. “It can be a little chaotic.”

The doors swing open, nearly knocking Polina over. I rush forward, catch her by one of her arms, and bring her protectively to my chest as a few bees buzz past us, carrying large trays of food on each arm. My heart thunders against my ribcage, threatening to break free. I look down at her. Our eyes meet, and I swallow the lump in my throat.

“C-Case in point, I suppose. Thank you,” she breathes. Reluctantly, I release my grip on her arms so she can move away, and I expect her to. But she doesn’t. “You know, you’re very handsome for a human. Has anyone ever told you that before?”

My cheeks flush. Dammit. She can probably see I’m blushing. I work my jaw before answering. “Um, just my mother. But thank you.”

Polina lifts her hand to brush a strand of hair away from my eyes. The blushing isn’t letting up—in fact, it’s only getting worse as my pulse spikes to the point where I’m feeling dizzy. When was the last time I felt dizzy because of a woman? Senior year of high school? During prom, maybe? Pathetic, probably, but it’s difficult to focus on that fact when her lips have the perfect little Cupid’s bow. Makes them look so kissable…

“That’s a shame,” she murmurs. “Women should tell you that more often. Or men, if that’s what you prefer.”

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