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

Chapter Fifteen: Losing Control

A/N: The complete ebook of this story is on sale for 99cents (similar international pricing) from April 15 - May 15, 2014 at Amazon, B&N, Kobo, iBooks, and Smashwords.

Beads of overwarm moisture formed in Rhiannon’s hairline as she leaned over her pad. She raked back the frizzes they clung to. How was she supposed to be a good Queen and an effective ship owner if no texts definitively described basic knowledge? A Perceiver could extrapolate from a solid data foundation, yes, but her predictions and decisions would wobble without that initial structure.

Rhiannon threw her pad down on the bed, watching it bounce on her crimson duvet. The dark shock of color bounced and wobbled, lending her barren walls a reflected glory.

Someone scratched at her door. She rocketed to her feet, ready to get away from the helpless quest for a little while. She ignored the headache that came with standing so quickly. It’s just rushing blood. If she were lucky, Gwyn would wait on the door’s other side, wanting to talk again about animals or boys or life outside Rhiannon’s self-imposed bedroom-cum-study-carrel.

She unsealed the door, pleased to discover Gwyn. She was less pleased that Victor and Gavin followed behind. Still, she needed a break, and these visitorswere her friends and Devoted. She ushered them in and sat Gwyn on the bed. The men could stand.

Note to self: Get some more furniture.

Victor slouched against her wall, not meeting anyone’s eyes, his face blank and hands shoved into his pockets. In contrast, Gavin stood tall, towering over the rest. But then, everyone looked tall to Rhiannon. She joined Gwyn on the bed and waited for her callers to broach whatever subject brought them.

And waited. And waited.

“Soooo.” She drew out the sound. “Why the visit?”

Victor only slouched farther. Gwyn clasped her hands in her lap. Those two clearly weren’t talking. Rhiannon arched her eyebrows at Gavin, since he seemed the most composed.

“The passenger, Llewellyn,” he said.

Rhiannon expected him to continue, but Gavin stopped there, as if naming the man were answer enough. She drew in a noisy breath, gathering her patience and as much air as possible through her over-heated nose. “Yeeees?” Again she drew out the word, letting the vowels spool out to coax any further thoughts. Her burgeoning headache kept her from tilting her head in curious question, for all that it would surely add to the effect.

“What are you going to do about him?”

As always, Gavin spoke his words like a recital. Had he practiced what to say? Was he quoting one of his mother’s plays? His mouth was a flat line across his face, betraying nothing. Sometimes Gavin’s off-planet background made him impossible to understand.

Victor kicked against his leaning wall for momentum and launched himself at her, his face a blotchy pink-and-blue. His sleeves twisted all around his arms, but somehow managed not to hamper his movement. “You have to get rid of him!” He caught her shoulders and shook. “I’ll help you get rid of him.”

Her aching head pounded at the motion.

“He’s going to be gone in a few days when we reach the English rendezvous?” she offered.

Victor released her with a little shove that sent her back down to the mattress.

Anger begets violence, but why is he so angry?

Gwyn helped her up with an apologetic smile, but gave no indication of what had so riled the boys.

Gavin snorted. “And when he’s gone home and told everyone about our little Hive, how long until someone comes after us? How long until we’re jailed for our sins? Will shielding absolution fall from your lips, or will the sin-kiss transmit our doom?”

Rhiannon took a moment to translate that. No idea what he’s quoting. The context would probably help.

“Are you telling me that Llewellyn knows about Gwyn?” She gestured to her best friend, and saw the menfolk nod. “And that he’s threatening us with”—she paused because she hadn’t gotten that exactly—“with jail?”

Gavin shook his head. “With our own imaginations,” he explained. “He hasn’t specifically said jail or hard labor or revoked status. But we all know whatever the Senedd decides won’t be good. Our little scheme tips on a fulcrum’s point.”

Rhiannon needed time to think. She needed space in her aching head and in her cabin so that she could curl up on her duvet and pattern out what Llewellyn might want. How to extricate her people from this shandivang. The room blurred in her overtired eyes. She stood from the bed, all angles and tightly leashed muscles, and pointed at her door. This posture, one text had told her, was a command posture.

“Get out,” she ordered them all. “Out.”

She’d find a way to fix this. To fix the fox in their midst. The Hive was her responsibility, even if the scheme had been Victor’s to start. She wouldn’t let them get caught up in jail or hard labor or revoked status or ANYTHING.

“No.” Gavin’s reply came just as calmly and filled with as much harnessed energy as her own. “If you can’t solve this puzzle, then you’re not a real Queen. You don’t care about your Hive.” He looked for a moment as though he might vomit, but shook it off and relaxed all his muscles. Releasing the anger. Releasing the fight’s urgency. “I really thought you could do this whole Queen thing, you know? I mean, I thought the whole Dyfed Queen system was stupid, but I believed in your ability to make it work.”

He turned away from her, away from them all. “I guess you can’t.”

It was getting hard to breathe. There were too many people. Too many needs. Too many accusing voices, outside and inside her head. She needed to offer something, anything, just to make them all be quiet! Eisht!

“We could throw him out an airlock.”

The four mulled the idea in silence, tasting its simplicity and horror. Then Gwyn laughed, and Victor offered a weak cough, and Gavin said something likeThat’d be dramatic, even for me.

Even with the laughter and the acknowledgement that no killing could be easy, Rhiannon wasn’t absolved of responsibility. She’d never read about anything like this. She didn’t know what Llewellyn would really do. She wasn’t sure how all of her Hive felt about things.

She needed data. “What about Alan and Luciano?” she asked. “We should see how they feel.”

Victor snorted. “They’re in hiding, just like you,” he accused. He grabbed Gwyn’s wrist and motioned to Gavin, pulling his crew away to her door. “We’ll figure this out ourselves. We don’t need you at all!”

Of course they needed her. She was their Queen. Though Victor hadn’t gotten around to Devoting yet. She couldn’t breathe. She needed oxygen. Air! Why couldn’t they give her some more time? She could come up with something.

She just needed time. Time and air and calm. Time and air and calm. Time and air. Air.

A loud wailing began. Rhiannon took a moment to realize it hadn’t come from her.