Drones screamed as they were ripped apart or bitten to death, and the sisters’ feet slid on the bloodied, pulsing comb. Filled with consecrated anger at every insult and humiliation, every wasted forage and sullied passageway, they avenged themselves on the wastrel favorites, the sacred sons who did nothing for their keep but brag and eat and show their sex to those who must only labor for them and never be loved.

Flora and her sisters dragged one drone after another out into the corridor, and all throughout the hive was screaming and pleading and the high thick smell of blood as every single sister took active part and every drone fled for his life toward the landing board. Males who fell were dragged struggling out into the dazing sun, and there they were dispatched, down into the grass where the Myriad crawled to eat them alive, or tossed out upon the air they once ruled, flying toward death on torn and bloody wings.

Twenty-Eight

THE PULSING IN THE COMB SUBSIDED AND THE THROBBING air fell still. Throughout the hive every sister paused in her action as her senses returned to normal.

Crouched in the receiving area between the Dance Hall and the landing board, Flora heard the loud rasping of her own breath. Something large, warm, and motionless was beneath her, gripped between her legs. The drone’s head was pressed into the wax and her abdomen was curved hard and tight against him, her sting buried deep between his bands. He did not move as she pulled her dagger out. She backed away in horror. It was not possible—yet blood soaked her fur black.

All around her the comb showed dark wet swaths where bloody bodies had been dragged to the landing board. Other sisters rose to their feet, surrounded by shattered, torn, and decapitated drones. They stood panting and ashamed, not daring to meet each other’s eyes.

A dense, unnatural silence emanated from the Dance Hall, reaching out to touch the bees and compel them to return.

There a sickening spectacle met them. Amber and brown slicks of blood, yellow intestine spilling half-digested pollen and honey, segments of antennae, shattered eye-lenses, clawed and bitten plates of armor, and gore-clogged plumes littered the comb. The greatest concentrations were in the favored places where foragers danced, and every sister wailed in shame.

Bloodstained sisters from other parts of the hive came staggering in, called by the same signal. Some were having convulsions, and one knocked into Flora and held on to her. She was a receiver, and the sight of her open, gasping mouth triggered a reflex in Flora’s body. Suddenly her crop felt distended and heavy, as if she had just returned from a long forage—but it was not nectar that was rising. Flora choked in horror as blood gushed from her mouth and splashed across the comb.

Other foragers yelped and screamed as they too voided the terrible contents of their crops, and some almost tore their pollen baskets apart trying to empty them of any foul matter. The Dance Hall echoed with the wails and sobs of their shame, but many more sisters were locked mute with terror and could only stare.

THE FRAGRANCE OF DEVOTION mingled with the smell of the drones’ blood. As it grew stronger, those who were sobbing ceased, and those who were stricken felt released. A physical surge swept through the chaos of the Dance Hall, bringing every sister to her feet, then a great cry of joy rang out, for the Queen herself stood in their midst.

“Rest, my weary daughters,” said the Queen, and her voice was soft as petals. “Lie down and let me heal you with your Mother’s Love.”

The Queen let her mantle open so that the scent of Devotion flowed stronger, and the bees sank to their knees in gratitude. A soft vibration rose up through the comb, a smooth rhythmic wave traveling back and forth across the Dance Hall, lifting and rocking them as if Holy Mother carried them all in her arms. She walked among them with her wings spread wide, and each sister felt the blanket of forgiveness settle upon her as she breathed in her Mother’s Love. As each sister began to weep, the bitter essence of vengeance drained from her body in her tears.

Flora lay on the smooth worn comb where so many times she had danced. The blood-scent of the drones rose up into the Queen’s Love and strengthened its fragrance. She could see the great gold-and-brown carpet of her sisters lying wing to wing, and the pale shimmer of movement as the soothing frequency rolled through the comb beneath them. She wanted to sit up and look upon the beauty of the Queen, but as the wave came toward her and she inhaled the divine fragrance, she entered its rhythm and joined the shared trance.

The Queen spread her wings and every bee sighed in bliss.

“Give me your shame and your sins, my daughters,” she said, “and I will wash them away with my Love. Give me all your grief, your guilt, your secrets, and I will tell you a story to lift your wings and fill your heart with joy.” The great chamber filled with a soft, low hum, and the Hive Mind joined every sister with the Queen. Held in sound and scent, the bees lay perfectly still as their minds traveled.

In the Time before Time in this very hive, a young princess paced in her chambers. She had slain all her rivals and cleaned her crown of blood, yet her triumph felt empty and her soul hungered for adventure. But each time she tried to leave her chambers her ladies blocked her with curtsies and sweet words until the princess grew to hate her rich robes, her food lost its savor, and she was vexed beyond imagining.

One day her strength rose. When her ladies came with nectar and ointments the princess burst past them and ran through the hive toward the wild air she yearned for. Down and down the hive she fled—but instead of trying to stop her, her ladies ran behind cheering in excitement, for the day had come.

The princess reached the landing board and stopped in shock, for no one had warned her of the sky and the sun. She wanted to run back in to safety and return another day, but now her ladies blocked her way, forcing her on toward the edge.

At this behavior the princess grew so angry she spread her wings, and a great humming roar filled her chest. In an instant she was high in the air, her home far beneath her and her body made of light and air. Her ladies sped behind her on their own, cheering and singing in praise.

The princess did not know where she went, but a strange new scent called her on. She was fearless and a joyous power filled her body. Her ladies could not keep up, and she heard their cries as birds dived at them but she did not stop. The huge tossing green heads of the trees were close ahead and at that place the smell was strong and rich and thick.

And then the princess saw them, the host of handsome gallants that thronged the air, calling her praise and showing their strength and valor. Some begged for her choice and those she ignored, but others came rushing to claim her. She tested their speed against her own, whirling above them in pride and freedom until the fleetest sprang upon her from above, where she had not seen him. At his clasp, the princess knew this was the sport she had hungered for.

Together they rode the wind until she felt his essence in her body. Keeping his dronewood tight within her she cried out and released him, and the gallant’s body tumbled down toward the earth. But her sport was not over. Again and again she chose a noble drone to capture her on the wing, and again and again she sent his body spinning down to earth, empty of dronesong and missing that part she kept.

At last her body was filled by the finest males in the air and her hunger sated. Then she turned her wings for home, and never had her palace smelled so sweet. Her ladies licked every trace of dronesong from her body and fought to share the last male organ lodged within her, that prize she took from each of them. And all the bees in the hive rejoiced in triumph, for with her marriage flight their princess was crowned Queen, and mother of generations to come.