He took his ill-humor out on the combine, with the result of a fully-repaired piece of machinery by the time he heard the sound of a truck approaching. Stinger managed to splash himself clean under the pump, drying carelessly before moving in an intercept for the porch. The truck pulled up, but the driver didn't get out.

Stinger looked over. He saw her behind the wheel, sitting there, and her stillness renewed his concern. It took only a few steps to reach the door; by then she was opening it and climbing out, slowly.

"Where have you been?" he asked, working hard at keeping it a question and not a demand. Gina took in a breath and looked past him, towards the house.

Towards the hives.

"Did you know I worked for Titus Abrasax for a while? He used me as a summoner for beings he wanted to humiliate," Gina replied as she straightened up. "The sight of me, bouncing along, calling out their names was intended as glorious mortification."

Stinger made a face; he remembered the pettiness of the Entitled ones; their delight in flaunting their superiority. "I didn't," he murmured.

Gina managed a smile that held only a ghost of sweetness. "Yes. I had . . . a costume, too. He laughed at me every time I brought someone to him. I was his bumble, intended to humble. If it hadn't been for the access the position gave me I would have eventually bounced myself into a refinery I think."

As they reached the porch, a slow wave of workers flowed towards them, and one tentative bee hovered before Gina's face. She smiled again, and this one was warmer. The bee landed on her nose in welcome, making her rich laugh ring out.

"You're here now, and well away from that ass," Stinger pointed out, his voice gruff as he suppressed his anger. From what he knew of Titus the story was all too plausible. They stepped onto the porch and Gina reached for the rail.

"Yes. I made an appeal to Nova Cirrica, summoner to the Seraphi, and her Majesty gave me haven here. Took the plaything away from her spoiled son, the way a mother should, I suppose."

"I'm glad of it, but this isn't really answering my question," Stinger pointed out, motioning to the sofa. Gina made her way to it, dropping herself down with a grateful sigh.

"I've been to a health tech," she told him in a firm tone. "That's all you need to know right now."

Stinger worked his jaw, aware that unpleasant things would happen if he pushed. He moved to Gina and squatted down on his haunches, doing his best to be neutral, looking her over as he did so.

"The nature of a drone—my nature—is to protect and serve," he reminded her. "What happens to my charges concerns me, and you are of my hive now."

"Your hive is lucky," Gina smiled at him, closing her eyes for a moment. "What ails me isn't something you can change, Apini, but being with your hive . . . helps. I do better in the hum of their wings, and the taste of their honey. They comfort me."

Stinger thought about that a moment. "Good," he finally murmured, "that's all right then."

He stayed with her as the light began to fade, settling himself against one of the porch posts, aware of the singing of crickets and the hum of his hive in the soft spread of twilight. Gina rested, not quite asleep but certainly not awake either, her frame slack. As she rested, he watched her, studying her curved cheeks and round nose, her quiet smile. Bees began to settle into the waves of her hair, and their thrum dropped to a soft pitch.

Night rolled in, and the darkness she brought was soothing. The sea of corn around the farmhouse added a susurration to the hum of the hive in a comforting serenade. Stinger felt himself relax for the first time in ages.

Gina drew in a breath and opened her dark eyes, as if suddenly aware of where she was. She gave a hum and the bees on her flitted away. "That was good," she murmured. "Better than a massage or a fresh bouquet."

"Stay," Stinger found himself offering. "If you like. You'll have the hum through the night. Kiza will . . . attend you."

It pleased him to see Gina hesitate, watch her consider his suggestion instead of dismissing it. "It would mean putting up with me in the morning," she warned, intending it as a joke. There was something lonely in her tone though, something wounded, and Stinger gave her a gruff grin.

"I'm far uglier and meaner than anything you think you are, Bombini queen. As long as I'm supplied with coffee and toast, I'm merely terrifying in the morning. Besides, I could do with another pair of hands to do the collecting, if you're willing."

The moment stretched out, and Stinger found himself tensing, waiting for her laugh, or refusal, some gentle rejection. Gina said nothing, but finally she rose up from the sofa, stretching to her full height, her profile silvered in the moonlight.

"I . . . accept your offer. For tonight," she clarified, turning to glance shyly down at him. "Thank you."

He looked up, moved by her perfect, quiet regality. This was what true royalty was, Stinger sensed. What the Entitled sought to be and were not, and wonder of wonders he didn't feel intimidated.

Instead, he felt honored. And under that, aroused.

This wasn't something Stinger had expected, and he gave a nod to remind himself of the here and now, then held open the screen door for Gina. One little bee circled his head and lit onto the lobe of his ear, her buzz impertinent enough to make him growl.

-oo00oo-

He sat for several hours on the roof, keeping watch as he had for the last decade, aware of the horizon, and above him, the vast velvet of the sky. Stinger knew the residents of the planet had fanciful names for some of the patterns visible above; Kiza had told him a few several years back. He had no use for them, not knowing the legends they were based upon, so he'd made up his own names for them instead. The three stars in a row—those were the Great Barb, set to pierce the enemy. The square of stars in the sky; that was the Hive in the Beyond, where the Apini Spliced loyal to their queens would dwell after death. And opposite that was the faint little Tuft of Blossoms, put in the heavens to honor the workers and their bounty.

Foolishness, he knew. Creations based on his own whims and the few Apini legends he'd brought with him to this planet. Stinger had shared them with his daughter, who'd been kind enough not to laugh, although she pointed out he was part human too, and not everything had to relate to bees.

Her point was well-made, but Stinger still indulged himself when he looked up at night, humming softly to himself. He smelt a hint of rain in the west, and knew the corn would benefit from it . . . anything to keep himself from thinking of the female—the queen—under his roof.

Right below him, if the truth were told.

Wrestling with dangerous thoughts, he bit the inside of his cheek and turned his gaze to the south, where he would run the combine in a few more days' time. His farm wasn't large, not in comparison with the ones around him, but that was never the point. He'd taken the land and done his best to blend in, and even after most of the surrounding acreage had been bought up by corporations, Stinger had stayed on, generally content to keep his hives to himself.

There had been visitors over the years of course, but not many, and only a few from beyond the planet. And that was the way he liked it.

But now, with the shift of paradigm—a new queen of the Abrasax, one with definite ideas about what needed to change—well it would mean an end to the status quo here as well. Stinger wasn't sure what his place would be in Queen Jupiter's retinue, but it most likely wouldn't be sitting here planetside. He'd be out among the stars again, off at her command.

He wasn't sure how he felt about that. Part of him yearned to fly free, to do what he was created to do, yes. But part of him had grown to appreciate the continuity and comfort of the hive. To enjoy a home.

A noise startled him out of these thoughts and Stinger watched as a pair of hands gripped the rain gutter. He moved to grab the wrists but the soft thrum of wings vibrated in the air, and Gina bobbed up, guiding herself onto the roof.

They were perfect, Stinger noted. Translucently sepia, the chitin of her wings glittered under the moon. True Bombini wings, not like his own, which were Spliced with apocrita for strength and speed. He let his hands drop and bowed his head without realizing it as Gina settled herself onto the shingles with a little puffing.

"Okay, haven't flown in a while, so need to catch my breath . . ." she wheezed for a moment, smiling. "Wow. Now this is a view."

Stinger braced himself for the possibility of having to grab her if she slipped on the shingles. He looked up from her bare feet. "Why aren't you asleep?"

"Reasons," Gina replied, arching an eyebrow at him. "Some of them the same as yours."

He bit back his retort, well-aware of the subtle scents drifting between them. Here, above the hive and in the clear air the pheromones were much harder to ignore. Stinger let his gaze meet hers, and again, the allure Gina exuded made his stomach tense. "It's not safe up here."

She smiled, acknowledging he meant more than the hazard of the shingles. "I've fallen before," Gina murmured.

Stinger felt himself blush. The sensation was so unfamiliar that he flinched as well, and to his horror he felt his own footing give a bit. It was hard to keep his balance but he managed as Gina settled herself down on the slope and folded her wings back, easing them into the bio-pouches along her shoulder blades. She gave him his dignity by not saying anything and when he grudgingly sat down beside her, she pointed to the southern horizon.

"There, about forty-two miles in that direction. I and my retinue made our home there. I think the Seraphi must be fond of this continent to have set both of us here."

"The farming," Stinger pointed out patiently. "The most acreage available in the most stable weather. Also off the grid. Where are your attendants now?"

Gina hesitated, and didn't look at him. "Humben was killed in a hit and run in the first year we were here. Crossing the street, looking down at the stripes because he always liked doing that. Silly little drone. How I miss him."

Stinger kept quiet, feeling the flare of her pain, aware of it in the low pitch of her voice. Neither of them said anything for a while, and then Gina took a breath and continued. "My ladies Biffla and Filba are still with me, but barely so. I make them sleep in stasis, and only take them out when the days are sunny and mild. They were among Rek Sonsotiva's first generation Bombini splices and well, ancient. They're nearly fifteen."

He felt both anger and compassion well up inside. "Why didn't the Seraphi have you all rejuvenated?"

"Titus had Rek Sonsotiva killed before his mother could arrange that, and after that it seemed pointless. We had none of his data to work with; another Splicer would have had to start from scratch, even one familiar with our particular branch of apidae."

She gave a soft little sigh, and looked up, overhead into the very heart of the sky. "Don't you dare feel sorry for me, Stinger Apini or I'll push you off this roof myself. My attendants and I have had a good life here, truly. We've helped hives all over this land and gotten the tercers we've met to respect the winged ones in that time."

He gave her a sidelong glare. "I don't feel sorry for you, I feel fucking pissed off at your circumstances. You're without court, and that's . . . ." Stinger couldn't force himself to say 'a death sentence' and complete his statement.

Gina merely shrugged. "Being around your ladies help, as does the smidges of royal jelly I've bought these last three years. But there's no use fighting the way of things, and by winter it should be all over."

Appalled, Stinger began to say something, to protest against the flat and matter-of-fact way she said this, but all that slipped out was, "No."

"'Fraid so."

"No," he repeated more forcefully now. "It doesn't have to happen."

Gina gave a husky laugh with no humor in it. "It's going to happen to all of us eventually. Oh I may have years to go, but not under these conditions. The human in me is all right, but the bumble . . . that's breaking down."

"We can have you scanned, have the med techs map your Splice," Stinger murmured urgently, but Gina shot him a quelling look.

"No. I'm not a fighter like you; not a soldier. Bombinis were always very low on the scale of Splicer merit; made primarily for amusement. The cost of having treatment would be many times over my worth."

"Not to me. To us," Stinger corrected himself hastily. "In these last few weeks the hives are better. Happier. Kiza thinks a lot of you."

He didn't dare look at Gina, too aware of her under the light of the moon.

"Thank you. Your child is a treasure and your ladies make me buzz with joy," Gina replied in a soft tone. "But those truths cannot change the facts, brave drone. I don't have enough credits to even leave the planet, let alone engage a Splicer."

"I have some—"

"No. Anything you've got must go to Kiza and the hive."

"I can—"

"No. The new Seraphi will be busy enough with learning her role without you pestering her on behalf of a lowly Bombini."

"I—"

"Shhhhhhhh," Gina murmured in a firm tone. "Kiss me."