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.

Fifteen

WAKE UP, 717.” THE VOICE WAS BRUSQUE. “WAKE UP and follow me at once!”

Flora jerked awake and looked into the eyes of a senior Sister Ilex, the kin immediately below the Teasel. Other bees still slept, but the air smelled of early morning. Flora stood, aware of the soreness at the tip of her body. They had found her out, and Sister Ilex was here to take her to her death. Flora bent her antennae low.

“Holy Mother, forgive my sins. I am ready.”

Sister Ilex sniffed at her. “How strange. They told me you smelled quite rank, but to me you smell sweet as the Nursery. Ready for what?”

“The Kindness.”

“What on earth for?”

Flora held her antennae from trembling. Sister Ilex did not know her crime, nor smell the egg. She had come for a different purpose, and looked at her keenly.

“I should have carried the dead yesterday,” said Flora. “Instead I prayed with Lily 500.”

“Which is precisely why you have been chosen. Now come quickly.”

Sister Ilex led her down the corridor past the Dance Hall and the freight waste depot, to the empty receiving area near the landing board. Then she signaled, and instead of the fertility police that Flora expected, a young sister appeared with a fresh honey cake. Sister Ilex held it up and the smell made Flora ravenous.

“Before Lily 500’s sentence was carried out, you engaged in a reckless and sentimental exchange with the deceased forager, did you not? And she imparted to you her knowledge?”

Flora nodded, her attention riveted by the sweet, dense cake.

“It may still have value. If you can access it, then you are suspended from sanitation duties today, and may instead try to redeem yourself and serve your hive.”

“With all my heart.”

Sister Ilex gave Flora the cake, and never had food been so delicious.

“Rains have blighted our season of plenty and yesterday’s health purge was a drastic protective measure—but if we lose any more foragers to the poison we will not be able to gather sufficient food for the winter. Therefore it has been decided to send out scouts to try to locate all tainted sources in our vicinity. Obviously, because of the risk of death, the lower the kin the better. With Lily 500’s knowledge and your brute strength, you might have some success.”

Flora finished the cake and the honey brightened her mind. “I am a scout? I can forage?”

“Restrain your ego, 717. Your kin may never fly, except to carry waste or in sacrifice for the good of the hive.” Sister Ilex led her out onto the dazzling landing board. Thistle sentries saluted.

“Do not tax your brain, but fly about chaotically as you will. Just go as far as Lily 500’s data permits. If you get lost, so be it. If you draw the Myriad, you face them alone. And if you do manage to return but carry sickness, you will be denied entry—though someone will come out to hear any news you bring.”

“But if I return healthy and with knowledge, I should go to the Dance Hall.”

Sister Ilex laughed. “A positive attitude is just what we need, 717. Very good!”

“Azimuth: the exact degree of the sun. Radius: a section of the perimeter of a circle. North, south, east, west. Distance measured in leagues—” Flora stopped because the sun’s warmth sent her blood pumping into the veins and capillaries of her wings. Her latches sprang open, the four gossamer membranes stretched wide and flight-tight, triggering her thoracic engine. A power surge filled her body, her chest spread broad, and her wings hummed brightness.

“You will wait for permission!” shouted Sister Ilex above Flora’s thoracic roar. “You will—”

Flora did not hear the rest. With the slightest press of intention, the air rushed beneath her wings and the apple trees fell away below. She took a strong, high course, and as her antennae automatically adjusted to flight position, she felt a channel open deep within them through which streamed Lily’s knowledge and aerial skills. The hive was a tiny gray square, the orchard a verdant strip between the dull fields and the gray industrial complex—