FLORA JOINED THE FIRST SANITATION DETAIL SHE found—scrubbing out the Dance Hall. They worked in somber silence, for nowhere in the hive was the comb more sensitive to the chemical signals of the colony, and it transmitted flashes of fear and pain as the health inspection continued in the hive. Outside in the lobby more floras carried newly dead bodies of ailing house bees to the morgue, all with the sickly smell of tainted pollen on their mouths and their heads hanging limp after the Kindness.
Flora turned away and focused on minute particles of dust trodden into the worn wax tiles where the foragers danced. She hoped Lily 500 had died in the air, not fallen into the grass still conscious, helplessly waiting for the Myriad. The bell rang for shift change and she went up with the other floras to the midlevel canteen—but for once the smell of food did not move her. All she wanted was dark seclusion.
In a workers’ dormitory she found the segregated kin area and threw herself down in a corner bunk. Her soul hurt from the violent loss of so many sisters.
From Death comes Life Eternal, she repeated in her mind, but the words gave no comfort. She curled her body tight in grief—and felt the pressure in her belly push back, stronger. As Flora shifted to ease the sensation, a wave of energy rolled through her.
The image of a purple foxglove shone in her mind, its ultraviolet runway glowing in welcome. She felt the cool, soft press of its petal tunnel, then a shiver of delight as its pollen brushed against her fur. A bead of nectar pulsed sweetness, and she stretched out her tongue—
Flora jolted awake. It was completely dark, the air had cooled, and every berth held a sleeping sister. She breathed in their heat-exhausted bodies and their kin-scents—many floras around her—and then the Dandelions, the Bindweeds, the Plantains nearer the front and the better ventilation. From the stale pollen on their breath she guessed that the latest fresh loads had been destroyed in case of contamination, along with the brave sisters who had brought them.
The pressure in her belly was worse, and the more Flora tried to settle herself, the more insistent it became, until she was forced to get up. Swaying her abdomen relieved the painful pressure—but also made her scent rise more strongly, disturbing her sleeping neighbors. Flora could not help but think of Lily 500’s error in the field, and how closely they had touched. Perhaps she had caught something—perhaps she was at this moment transmitting it to every sister around her.
As she tiptoed out of the dormitory her belly pulsed as if forcing her forward, and the pain eased a little. Walking in the dark corridors of the hive, without the day’s tumult of scent and sound, she smelled its sweet bouquet rising through the comb on all sides so that every sister’s kin-scent blended in its beauty. For the first time, Flora smelled its separate elements. The essence of a million flowers combined with the purity of the new wax cribs, the rich aroma of pollen wrapped around a piquant note of propolis, and beneath it all, the hive’s deep gold core of honey.
A spasm of pain went through her and Flora dropped to her knees. Her belly was her only consciousness, pushing tauter and harder so that every nerve blazed in agony—and she felt she must burst and die.
The terrible sensation faded. Flora lay in shock as the ripples passed through her body. She was still alive, her face pressed to the comb floor of a corridor on the midlevel. It was still night, and it was quiet and dark. She felt the tip of her abdomen throbbing and something warm pressing against it.
A single pulse came through the comb under her body, and its fine, thin energy was new to her. It grew stronger as she felt it, running through her body until her mind connected to it, and she knew it joined her to whatever pressed against her body. A beautiful fragrance came from it.
Flora pulled herself around and gasped in shock. The thing that touched her was small, warm, and glowing. It was slightly pointed at one end, and as she stared its fragrance rose more strongly, activated by her attention. Flora looked up and down the empty corridor, then back at the egg.
Her egg.
“No.” Flora did not know if she spoke aloud or not. It was impossible: Only the Queen may breed. That was the first law of life, so holy it needed no place in prayer for it was a rule literally incarnate in every sister’s body.
Flora raised her antennae, searching for the fertility police. They were all-powerful; they would know and be here any moment, and when they came she would not ask for mercy for her unspeakable act. It did not matter that she had not meant it, that the egg had come without warning. She stared at it.
The egg was glowing brighter and its fragrance was the sweetest thing she had ever smelled, sweeter even than Devotion. But that very thought was evil.
Flora looked around, waiting for deliverance. They must come, and if they did not she must call them. Only the Queen may breed. Only the Queen—
Repeating the words, Flora lay down and curled herself around her egg. Its fragrance filled her senses like her first Devotion, and she looked in desperation for anyone to come and save her from her crime, but the hive slept on. Then a thought occurred to her. The Nursery was close by, and Sister Teasel would know what to do. Very gently, Flora picked up her egg.
She could not help it—her arms cradled it softly, her antennae bent to feather it with loving touches, and her heart swelled with love.
The child they tore apart—twisting in agony on Sister Inspector’s hook—
Her antennae seared and she clutched her egg closer, drawing her own scent around it like a shield. The egg responded, tender and fragile and pressing strong against her. Flora’s cheeks began to tingle with the sweetness of Flow, but she swallowed it down.
Sin was sin—and she must go to the Nursery before her courage failed. Holding her beloved egg for the last precious moments, Flora forced herself to walk through the doors of Category One.
Sister Teasel sat snoring at her station. Flora went closer, until she stood in front of her. She held up her glowing egg. Sister Teasel did not wake. One antenna sagged sideways; the other trembled as if she dreamed. All around them the long rows of Category One cribs were quiet, faintly glowing from the last feed of the evening. The nurses’ rest area was still.
“Sister Teasel.” Flora spoke loud enough for the old bee to hear. Sister Teasel did not stir. Flora looked around. At the far end of the ward was the start of Category One, and beyond that, the veil of scent that hid the Laying Room from view. That was where the newest eggs would be found in the morning. Flora’s egg shimmered in her arms. Soft and quick, she walked down the rows of cribs toward the laying area. She was almost there when a sound stopped her.
“Who’s there?” Sister Teasel’s voice was thick with sleep. “Lady Speedwell?”
Flora did not move, the egg bright in her arms. Sister Teasel tidied her antennae and brushed herself off.
“Forgive me for not greeting you,” she said. “It has been such a trying day for all of us.” She leaned forward to whisper. “I hope it is not blasphemy to ask, but did you come to say Her Majesty has laid in her privy chamber again? Oh, and to think that you found me sleeping—what is our hive coming to?” She laughed nervously. “It is the scant rations you know, one needs energy to stay awake.” She peered at Flora. “You will not mention I slept, will you?”
Flora forced her knees together and curtsied. Sister Teasel sat down in relief.
“Good girl. You know where to put it.”
Flora went to the most secluded part of Category One, where the pure new cribs held the latest eggs. She placed her own deep inside one and watched it roll with its own inner life to secure itself to the wax by its pointed end. Flora leaned over, inhaling its precious scent as deeply as she could. She stroked it one last time.
If she were Lady Speedwell she would return to the Queen’s Chambers through the Laying Room, and Sister Teasel would think it odd if she did not. Praying nothing had changed, Flora slipped through the veil of scent. The Laying Room was empty and prepared for Her Majesty’s next Progress. Through one door was the rich beauty of the Queen’s Chambers—and certain discovery, for the ladies-in-waiting would raise the alarm at her trespass. But when she had attended the Royal Progress and been sent to and fro for water, she had used the little door that opened near Patisserie. Very carefully, she tried the handle. It was unlocked.
The scent of the hive began to change as dawn rose, but the comb was quiet and no one stirred as Flora returned to her dormitory. Her bunk was completely cooled of body warmth as she lay down and curled her abdomen in for sleep. The tip still throbbed, yet she felt oddly calm. All she wanted was to draw the last of that beautiful scent into her mind and feel that warm, tender shimmer of life against her body again. She had committed a crime, yet she felt no guilt, only love for her egg.
Flora listened to her sisters’ sleep and the birdsong starting in the orchard, and waited for retribution.