Queen & Commander (Book One of the Hive Queen Saga)

Chapter Four: For the Right Queen

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The day after the Test, no teachers expected their sixteen-year-old students to pay attention. God knew that Luciano tried, but he’d spent most periods thinking about his spectacular good fortune. He’d Tested as Devoted and Medical Doctor. The Senedd would pay for his education!

He drafted a million letters home in his head. His mother and sister on the mining colony Nuova would be so proud. They’d also be pleased they’d enjoy a greater portion of his paychecks, once the Senedd started sponsoring his tuition and board at the University of Dyfed.

Rhiannon came up beside him after his last class. Her matte red tunic made her dark locks shine.

“Hi, Luciano,” she said.

That was something he’d adored about Rhiannon since he’d met her. She always said his full name. She never called him Luke or Lucky, like the construction crew at his off-campus job. She never assumed his Italian-miner accent made him an idiot.

When the Test results had gone up, he’d checked her name in the lists. He’d worried that she’d grow apart from him and start spending time with the vapid Queenlets who sat in front of the vending machines and demanded favors to let anyone pass. Yet here she was, initiating conversation.

“I saw you made Queen and Commander,” he said.

“And you got Devoted and Medical.”

She’d noticed his scores and remembered them? He hadn’t realized she cared enough to look him up. He was just the new guy. She had local friends, childhood friends, but she’d searched out his name. It couldn’t have been easy. Luciano Totti was on a far different reporting board than Rhiannon Jones, separated by sex and alphabet.

He shoved trembling fingers into his pockets. Here was proof she wanted to be friends. Maybe, before she’d become Queen, she’d even wanted more than friendship.

“Yeah,” he said.

Outside the school, adults and children alike pushed and weaved their ways down busy sidewalks. The sweaty overcrowding almost overwhelmed the sugary tang of safety-fueled hydrocarbon from all the roadskimmers. Unlike the city’s hush for the Test, today teemed with people.

“Let me walk you home,” she said. “I want to discuss something.”

Her voice was serious; her square jaw, firm. A new Queen had but one reason to talk to a new Devoted: she wanted to sound him out. She wanted him to join her Hive when they were older and more prepared. He could hardly breathe.

Jesus, he hoped that was what she wanted to talk about.

As far as he was concerned, Rhiannon was the perfect Queen. She was respectful, intelligent, and absolutely gorgeous with dark hair and a delicately pointed nose. When they argued, she mirrored his hand motions, and he knew he talked too much with his hands compared to the Dyfed-born.

She felt like home.

This could be the moment when his life revised itself for the absolute best. Rhiannon had gotten into New Cardiff. Maybe she would use her Test clout to suck him into the top school on the planet too. She would talk to people on his behalf—as a good Queen should—and upgrade him from generic Medical to Neurosurgeon.

She would love him and care for him, and he would worship her for the rest of their days. She would be his new church, full of truth and promise and a secure future.