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

Chapter Ten: Rituals

Luciano started his morning with a jog around the Cauldron. He could get in a good five kilometers if he did eight circuits of the residential areas. After getting a full night’s sleep and sweating out his surprise and aggression, he had more perspective.

With each post-jog squat, lunge, and push-up, he reminded himself that Rhiannon had warned him about the Hive’s unorthodoxy before he’d Devoted. Plus, he knew she relied on him. As long as everyone centers on the Queen, does it matter whether they’re male or female? Dyfed-born or offworlder? Druidic or Catholic?

This was a good thing really. If Rhiannon could accept a woman, she could definitely accept him.

He’d have to try interacting with Alan again. They were the odd ones. They’d truly come for Rhiannon, working to build their lives around her, where the others leaned on pre-established friendships. Though his last talk with Alan hadn’t gone so well. The man had been rude... but he’d offered Luciano his sandwich.

Speakers in the corridor crackled to life. “We’re going to the station in half an hour.” His Queen’s voice echoed through the hollow halls. “Anyone who wants to see the Beltane fires or pick up some furniture should meet me at the airlock.”

Luciano wasn’t sure about the outing. One the one hand, he wanted to spend time with his Hive mates—especially his Queen—and to get supplies for Medical. On the other hand, Beltane.

The sweat cooled on his body and made his skin prickle with bumps, but his face was a brazier. That was just the exercise talking, not any reluctance. Still, Beltane. When Christian priests used to eat the meat from pagan sacrifices on Earth, God didn’t mind, right? As long as they didn’t believe in the barbaric deities, they were safe. Luciano couldn’t remember where he’d heard that.

How could he tell his Hive he didn’t want to do this one thing with them? He wanted to share their lives and their worries, yes, but not this aspect of their culture. He wasn’t a druid. He didn’t want to be.

God willing, they wouldn’t mind.

Back in his room, he threw on the least interesting clothes he owned, hoping to go unnoticed by the Beltane revelers. He felt sloppy in an old brown tunic and worn green trousers that were too short to tuck into his everyday boots. Choke on that, druids. I won’t primp for your pagan holidays. No one would think he’d dressed up for whatever god this festival honored.

When he arrived at the airlock, he found his whole Hive. All of them had dressed down. Now it looks like I’m celebrating in the same way they are.Rhiannon was resplendent as always in a high-collared black tunic he recognized as three years out of style. The black made her dark hair glow. The others were just as nondescript as himself in brown, brown, and more brown. Even Gavin had gone for local traditional garb. Maybe his flamboyant outfit last night wasn’t normal?

“Dilyn fi,” Rhiannon said. Everyone fell in behind her as she led the way. Luciano followed as well. He’d just pretend he spoke Cymraeg today. His mother would be so proud that he’d found a proper Welsh Hive. If only they’d remember that my second language is Italian!

He staggered under stifling heat the moment they left the docking spoke. Burnt oat smoke attacked his nose. Bells rang nonstop.

“Do you really need me today?” he asked his companions, more than ready to turn back around and keep an eye on the Cauldron.

No one acknowledged the question.

Luciano trudged along with his Hive, largely tuning out their happy chatter. He heard enough to know that Rhiannon and Alan had devolved into some sort of Cymraeg poetry recital.