I sent word to Evie’s hive but never received a response. Either they, too, were compromised, or they are shunning me due to the loss of their queen. I would prefer to be shunned than have them meet the same fate as the Sugardove Hive. At least I can repair a damaged relationship, even if it’s painful and will take time.
After dressing in the bedroom, Calvin walks into the living room holding plates of bacon and pancakes, and sets them down on the dining table in front of the window. “Hi, Bea. Hi, Sylvie,” he says.
At first, Ser Beatrix disliked being called Bea, but she’s since come around after he made the compelling argument that Ser Beatrix was too much of a mouthful for him. It didn’t hurt that Sylvie also said she liked the nickname. That woman would do anything for her girlfriend, of that I have no doubt.
“Greetings,” Ser Beatrix says as she lifts her hand. Sylvie makes a mad dash for the food and sits down at one of the plates. “Any word on the progress of our hive?”
Calvin, now clad in a pair of dark denim jeans and a black t-shirt, runs his hands through his hair. “Uhh … yeah. So, Jules is stopping over later to talk to me about it. She had to take it back to the Guild for deep cleaning. She wanted to be sure that there are no Varroa mites before giving it back.”
“Very good,” Ser Beatrix says with a curt nod, seemingly satisfied. “I look forward to going home.”
Sylvie scoops up a mouthful of pancakes and says, “I’m nawt. I like it hweh.”
“Don’t speak with your mouth full, honey,” Ser Beatrix gently chides.
Sylvie swallows her brunch, then says, “I want to stay here.”
An awkward silence falls over the room, and I look between my knights, then to Calvin. He clears his throat and pulls me aside. “Maybe we shouldn’t get involved. That sounds like … a personal argument.”
I nod. “So I see.”
Calvin and I step back into the kitchen, leaving Sylvie and Ser Beatrix to argue quietly. Bonnet follows at our heels, hoping we’ll give her treats. I reach into one of the cabinets and pull out a baggie filled with hard, crunchy snacks that makes the cat go wild, and hand one to her.
“So…” Calvin says as he runs his fingers along the stubble of his jawline. “Do you want to go back?”
I snort and lean back against the kitchen counter. “What sort of question is that? Of course I wish to go back. I’m the crown princess. I have to go back. Though … there’s really nothing to go back to.”
My heart sinks into the pit of my stomach. If I think too long and too hard about the situation in my colony, I will burst into tears again. I’ve cried so much this week. So much mourning for my kingdom and the many lives lost. My failures as their princess are stacked high, and I know my rule is already blemished to the point of no return.
Calvin, sensing the shift in my mood, steps forward and takes my hands into his. “Sunshine, that’s not what I asked. I know you feel you have to go back, but … do you want to?”
A pregnant pause follows. I can’t even look him in the eyes right now, too ashamed of the answer on the tip of my tongue.
“Be honest with yourself before you’re honest with me,” he murmurs.
I close my eyes and draw in a deep breath. “No. No, I don’t want to go back. And I hate that that is my answer. I should want to go back and put everything to rights again. To repopulate my kingdom. But who will I even repopulate it with? A lone queen and two knights is not a kingdom. We are in exile.”
He presses his lips to my forehead, and a shiver runs through my body. “Then don’t go back.”
“But my rule?—”
Calvin kisses me again, this time on my lips. “Not every kingdom is meant to last forever. Human history is riddled with fallen kingdoms. Closed chapters on stories. But you know what?” He arches a brow and grins at me. “You’re in a unique position where you can be anyone you want to be. Be anywhere you want to be. You can fly and settle elsewhere. You can stay here and live with me. You can go on an extended holiday to a tropical island and figure things out.”
I’ve never thought about it that way before. I shrug. “Not very responsible of me,” I mumble. “I’d be letting my subjects down.”
“Sylvie wants to stay here, and I think Ser Beatrix would try to move heaven and earth to make her happy,” he says. “I can relate.”
I chew on my bottom lip as my mind races a mile per minute. “I’d be giving up.”
“You’d be moving on, forward,” he says. “But I don’t think there’s any reason to hurry with the decision-making, anyway. It’s been a week, Po. Your heart hasn’t even started healing.”
I let out a long, dejected sigh and meet his gaze. “You shouldn’t be encouraging me to abandon my hive. You should be telling me that I need to get back to it and lay thousands of eggs.”
Calvin arches a brow at me. “Do you want to lay thousands of eggs, babe? Don’t get me wrong. If you decide in the end that you want to go back and rebuild everything, I’ll be right there with you, every step of the way. But I want you to think about what it is you want for once.”
Do I want to lay a thousand eggs? No one has ever asked me that question before. Ever since I emerged from my brood cell, chock full of royal jelly, all of my choices were taken away from me. Never once was I asked what I wanted to do. There was only “supposed to” and “have to.” There was never “want.” What I wanted was irrelevant. And now I am being presented with … choices. It’s a strange feeling.
“You know what I actually want?” I say, grinning.