I smile my thanks and sink deeper into the water until it’s up to my nose.
“Rest, Orenda. There will be a clean bed waiting when you come out. We are very pleased to welcome our queen into our hive. We look forward to showering you with our love and devotion for the rest of our lives,” he says softly as he ducks out.
My foot slips from where it’s braced on the edge of the tub, sending my bottom sliding out from beneath me and my head dunking into the water. I surface, coughing and sputtering.
“What?!” I shout.
8
Dazi
I am resting better than I have in years, nestled comfortably between Gwin and Orel, when our queen’s shriek makes me jerk up in the bed. With a flurry of wings, we stumble off of the bed, our chitin chiming anxiously. Impatiently, I push by Orel, trusting my brother to forgive my rude behavior.
I found our queen and initiated the courtship by signaling to my hive. Although keeping our queen happy is the responsibility of the hive, I feel particularly attached to her. I can already feel her consciousness merging with mine in the hive bond, and I relish that delicate touch.
A touch that is now almost waspishly annoyed and pricking at me through the bond.
“What did Shavish do now?” Orel grinds out sleepily. His wings droop with exhaustion from the mating dance.
I understand the feeling. I doubt that any hive has ever had such a vigorous mating dance. Our queen did not require any extra persuasion beyond our golden dust to accept her hive. For many new queens on their mating flight, this is rare. I feel honored to have such a precious gift—so to hear her shriek in horror makes me speed to her side all the faster.
Gwin rushes on my heels at such a speed that he nearly overtakes me, his eyes wide with the panic shooting through our bond. Although a queen rejecting her hive is not common, nor is it unheard of. '
It was the very thing that all hives feared after mating flight.
When I enter the bathing chamber, I come to stop, my head cocked at the scene in front of me. Shavish is soaked with water. Even his wings dip, dragging on the floor from the weight of the liquid. Most fairies are careful not to wet their wings when they bathe, but it was obvious that his bath had not been of his choosing. He attempted to buzz his wings, but they flapped weakly just above the ground before drooping again. The scowl, however, on his face is dark.
Our queen is standing in the bathing shell, her face bright red as she holds a purification crystal in her hand. It is then that I notice that the room is littered with them, and she emptied them from the basin beside the bathing shell.
“Put that down!” Shavish snaps and ducks just as our queen lobs the crystal at his head. It breaks against the wall and our hive leader hisses as he strides toward her. I watch with my mouth agape before I zip forward to insert myself between them. Face to face with Shavish’s snarling countenance, I growl at him. He blinks at me, taken aback. Although I refused to entertain his nonsense and have been distant in recent months, I’ve never challenged him.
Gwin takes advantage of Shavish’s distraction to wrap his arms around his brother and restrain him. From the corner of my eye, I track Orel as he moves cautiously toward our queen, his hands upraised peacefully. I worry for a moment because I know that Orel is nearly as bad-tempered at times as Shavish, but he hums softly and by degrees our queen begins to relax.
“You are safe, my queen,” he murmurs.
“Orenda,” she corrects him, and he bobs his head in agreement.
“Orenda,” he repeats. “I am your mate Orel, and those are your mates Gwin and Dazi with Shavish.” He points us out and our queen’s green eyes rest on each of us in turn, although they narrow threateningly on Shavish.
“Shavish… That idiot has already introduced himself,” she growls impressively for a queen of her diminutive size. “Says I’ve chosen your hive and should just get used to the idea. Started spouting some nonsense about no returns or refunds.”
My jaw drops as I stare at Shavish in horror. A reluctant queen was to be wooed for her affection after the mating fires eased, not ordered about! “You told her what?”
His jaw clenches stubbornly. “She said that she never mated anyone and demanded that I take her to someone in charge. I told her that I am the someone and she laughed.”
“Of course I laughed,” Orenda sneers. “You were pouting like a child whose toy was taken away and trying to order me around. Hardly acting like a mature, reasonable adult, much less someone with any authority.”
A golden flush rises into my hive brother’s cheeks and I groan. Looking askance at Gwin, I silently beg him to do something to shut his brother up so that we can attempt to mend the situation. He leans forward to whisper in his brother’s ear. Whatever he says is enough to make the male go rigid, and his lips clamp shut, though his face darkens by the minute with pent-up embarrassment and anger.
He’ll live.
Turning away from him, I approach our queen. I do not bow my head or show any sign of submission toward her. We are not submissive males and pretending to be so would do nothing but harm any relationship that may bloom between us. Honesty is important.
I am honestly perplexed to the nature of the problem going on and so start there.
“Do you have an objection to our hive? You seemed to be willing to join with us… Or is our nest not to your satisfaction?” I glance around and admit to myself that there are repairs that we let go where new silk needed to be applied to the walls after a storm caused some minor damage.
A pink color rises in her cheeks and she shakes her head quickly. “No, nothing like that. You guys are… amazing, other than that one’s bad attitude. And your… uh, nest is beautiful. I can imagine anyone would feel comfortable here.”
I lift one eye ridge in confusion. “Then what is the problem?”
She pushes a hand through her hair and puffs out her cheeks before expelling a long sigh. “Look, it’s not that simple okay. I have a life back home. A career. I make clothing and am good at it. I never intended to be eight inches tall and tiny enough to practically live in a flower.”
Gwin chuckles. “You are hardly eight inches, my queen. Your frame is petite, unlike pixie queens who average ten inches. Most males are eight inches and you are smaller than even them. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen an adult pixie as small as you,” he observes.
“Gee, thanks,” she retorts sourly, making Orel chuckle. “Regardless, I have a life I want to go back to. Orders waiting on me.”
I nod thoughtfully. “Your craft is important to you.”
Her expression lightens as she looks upon me. It gives me a buzzing satisfaction in my belly to have her turn such a look upon me when she was practically spitting venom at Shavish moments ago.
“Yes! Exactly!”
“I’m afraid I do not know how to return you to wherever you came from, our to your true size, since you claim that you are not normally our size.”
“I’m not,” she breaks in quickly, relief filling her face. “I’m not tall for a human, but I’m five feet tall. Right now, I’m shorter than the entire length of my forearm in my normal size.”
Gwin pulls back, his brow plates dropping as his glow dims. “You are a zaabi,” he murmurs. Orenda glances over at him and frowns.
“No, I am human.”
I clear my throat. “Zaabi is a pixie term for the giant races,” I explain. “It means grotesque and ill-formed.”
Her face reddens and she shifts her gaze away from Gwin. I can feel her the soft whispers of her humiliation replace the angry sting in our bond. I don’t like it at all. I turn my head to glare at Gwin. I’ve never heard him say such a thing to intentionally hurt a queen before.
“Well, okay. You see why I need to get back. I don’t fit in here,” she says quietly.
I study the little female… human, as she claims. I am not familiar with humans, but she doesn’t seem to possess unpleasant features. In fact, her delicate bone structure looks similar
in some ways to a pixie queen, though perhaps a bit rounder and sweeter.
I find her as interesting and attractive even without my heat riding me, and her pheromones just as rich and appealing… Perhaps more so now that our scent has joined hers. I am fascinated at the compatibility between her species and ours, despite the obvious size difference which magic has resolved. The fact that we are larger than her doesn’t bother her as it does among pixie females. I have so many questions for her. I long to get her down to my study… but first I need to help stall her sudden need to flee.
In my studies, I know that it is not unusual for females to feel a surge of fear after choosing a hive and try to escape the bonds. I will proceed as I would if she were a pixie. We can’t force her to stay with us, despite Shavish’s obvious impulse, but if we can get enough time to shower her with our adoration—affection that is already builds in me as I become increasingly more accustomed to her presence in our bond—then maybe she will stay of her own choosing.
I just need to find something by which to delay her hasty departure.
“I’m afraid that I do not know of anyone here who will know how to return you. However, we can search for the answers if you do not mind waiting. In the meantime, you can familiarize yourself with us. Companions are good to have in an unknown world, I imagine…”
She blinks at me slowly as she considers my words. Reluctantly, she nods and steps from the bathing shell. “You’re right. Your hospitality and aid are much appreciated. And your friendship,” she says with a meaningful look at me and Orel, while intentionally excluding Shavish and Gwin, “is welcome.”
Shavish’s countenance is almost burnt gold in anger. With a snap of his body, he strides out of the room, his red wings fluttering limply behind him. Gwin’s face is shuttered, expressionless as it had been since he discovered that her race was what our kind dubs a zaabi. He nods stiffly and also departs, leaving me and Orel with our queen. She gives us a weak smile, her eyes watering as she clears her throat.
“I don’t suppose you have an extra place I can sleep?”
I sigh and nod. “I have a cot in my study. It is not much but I find it comfortable enough when I wanted to escape my hive brothers for a time.”
Her thankful smile warms and she reaches out to brush her hand against my arm. “Thank you. This really means a lot to me that you’re willing to help.”
I nod miserably. I will keep my word. I was honest when I said that I didn’t know of anyone who had such power. But for her sake, I will look.
“Right this way,” I murmur as I stride out of the bathing chamber en route to my study at the bottom level of the hive. I don’t like the idea of her being so far away from the hive, but my study is safe, so I have no reason to object. She smiles at me and Orel, though I can feel Orel’s dismay through our bond as acutely as my own as he follows us out.
Part of me rages at Shivash for his insistence on this mating flight, but the rest of me cannot regret knowing that one perfection, even if it is absent through the rest of my long life.
9
Orenda
After a surprisingly comfortable night on the cot—nowhere near as comfortable as the bed but still decent—breakfast is awkward as hell. Shavish nods to me coolly when I enter the heart of the hive where all food is cooked, and an enormous table stretches from one end of the room to the other. I imagine it’s that size not only for the hive but in anticipation of a queen and a big family that would result from their mating.
I am feeling a little guilty, like maybe I led the guys on. Especially after Dazi was kind enough to explain to me pixie mating habits while he quizzed me on how humans select mates. He seemed a bit awed and alarmed about our seemingly far more casual habits of selecting partners, while I’m pretty horrified about just permanent sex is among pixie males who aren’t magically neutered, so to speak.
The guys are giving me space… literal space so that I cannot feel them so immediately in my head, another fascinating bit of trivia that I didn’t notice until I was alone and could feel their confusion and frustration… and sadness.
The taste of sad disappointment was so sharp that I cried myself to sleep.
Gwin won’t even look at me. He takes his food and leaves with it, followed by Shavish, leaving me alone with Orel and Dazi. I sniffle and smile at the guys like it doesn’t bother me that the other two bailed. They give me uncertain smiles in return. Dazi gives me a bowl with small cake drizzled with honey and a small selection of fruit sliced up into bite-sized pieces. I look down at it, bemused, wondering just how small the fruit itself would be to me in my normal size before it was cut.
Popping a morsel in my mouth, I address Dazi. “So… what’s on the agenda today?”
He gives me a startled look and exchanges a glance with his brother. I can feel the confusion drift between them, though it’s obvious they’re trying to block me out. I grit my teeth but keep my smile fixed in place.
Why wouldn’t they try to block me from an intimate experience like that? It makes sense, since I’m not staying. It’s too bad that my feelings don’t want to cooperate. For some inexplicable reason, I want to cry a great big Orenda puddle right in the middle of my chair.
Dazi reaches over and grazes his claws against the back of my hand in a fashion I imagine is meant to be compassionate. “I have work to do. Our hive is usually quite busy with our tasks, but if you like, either Orel or I can take you to visit another queen.”
I hold back the frown pulling on my lips. That sounds like they’re putting me up with a babysitter. I stack my hands beneath my chin and give him a pointed look.
“What exactly is the plan when you have a queen?”
Orel coughs in amusement at my side as Dazi hurriedly explains as he tosses a frazzled look to his brother. “Usually queens are far more industrious than hive males. They are typically larger than us and have more tasks when it comes to the care of our community wherein the males care for our hives and take supportive roles in the colony or guarding our queens when they are away from the colony. Or females can be found gathering nectar, spinning silk, making fabric and clothing…”
I perk up from my sulking. “Make clothing, huh? Do you know any clothing-making queens that wouldn’t object to my presence?”
I grimace as I say it. Gwin’s reaction has told me all I need to know about how pixies regard zaabi. Memo to me: never tell anyone else that you’re not naturally this height. It’s awkward again and I wish I hadn’t said anything. Orel coughs.
“Fini does a lot of work in fashioning raw silk cloth into garments, I believe,” he offers.
Dazi glares at his brother and hisses, “Not Fini.”
I look between the two, my curiosity piqued. “Why not Fini? Who’s Fini?”
Dazi sighs and meets my eyes with resignation at my interest. “Fini grew up with us in the same part of the colony. She is mated so we don’t see her often, but she likes to be… helpful.”
“She loves to interfere in the lives of others and call it helping,” Orel says with an apologetic smile. “I am afraid you will find her more a vexing gossip than doing anything constructive at times… I can try to find someone else…”
I shake my head, sucking in my lips as I focus on my breathing. I have issues; I freely admit it. The sudden disinterest is hitting just a bit too close to home. I push a piece of fruit around with my finger idly. “No, Fini sounds fine. I’ve worked with plenty of people, males and females, who were Chatty Cathies while working. I’m sure I’ll have plenty to keep me occupied.” I hope, anyway. If nothing else, I may learn some inside information on the guys I am temporarily shacked up with.
Both males look relieved and began to eat with gusto. I watch them as I pick at my food. Oh well, at least this Fini girl doesn’t sound too bad.
Once our meal is concluded, Dazi disappears into his study to get something, leaving Orel to escort me to see this Fini. Secretly, I think that Dazi just wanted an excuse to make a clean getaway. I can un
derstand that. I used that tactic numerous times when it came to my family.
Orel looks down at me thoughtfully. “No wings…”
“Nope, no wings,” I confirm as cheerfully as possible. Inwardly, I want to cringe. No magic for a witch and definitely no wings.
“Fini’s nest is a distance away but we will make good time with me carrying you. Do not try to leave her nest without me. I will return as soon as I make rounds through our territory.”
“Oh, are you like a guard?”
“Yes,” he mutters as he steps behind me. He seems to stall there, unsure of where to put his hands. I wait patiently, my arms out from my sides to make it easy for him. “Given our size, Gwin, Shavish, and I are all guards. Dazi would be too except he has an aptitude for scholarly work and healing that is prized by our elders. He is being trained as a lorekeeper and healer.”
He finally settles on banding one arm around my waist while the other scoops me up behind my legs. He shifts a little, adjusting his hold, and spreads his wings. I stiffen as alarm shoots through me and my arms go into death-grip mode. The full power of my sudden fear must have been strong enough to penetrate through the bond because, instead of flying, he stumbles forward and gives me a wide-eyed look.
“Sorry. Sorry,” I wheeze as his arm around my belly nearly squeeze the life out of me. I tap one arm until he realizes the problem and slowly loosens his grip. I draw a breath and eye him. “My fault. Just… Are you sure you have a good grip on me? You won’t drop me, will you?”
He gives me a baffled look and huffs. “Of course I am not going to drop you. I’ve flown double many times. You are considerably lighter than any pixie I’ve carried and don’t have wings to get in my way. This is easy,” he grumbles.
“Oh, well… Good to hear. Carry on, I suppose.”
He glances down at me, his antenna extending toward me, but he pulls back his head and nods solemnly. I get nothing from him through the bond, the wall firmly back in place, so I just settle into his embrace and try to be unobtrusive. With one light bounce, we shoot up and out the entrance, airborne. I watch the nest drop away as we rapidly climb into the air. I can see the bright lights of winged pixies zipping around everywhere. More than one slows as we pass, their eyes on me.
Blooming Desire Page 32
