*My clevermen tell me that you refuse to co-operate with their testing.* She tapped clawed fingers on the arms of her throne in a staccato of irritation. *Why?*
*Why rename yourself Sanctuary?* The mist that swirled round his feet cooled his hot skin, but nothing could touch the burning in his blood. He dipped his gaze submissively when she frowned, schooling his mind to a mild curiosity, and after a long moment she uttered a sharp sigh.
*The time of the Keepers was over the second the Lanteans triggered our premature awakening. Some were wearied and stood aside; others of us still stand guard. Some of us see the need to provide an alternative to the old clan loyalties in this time of civil war. Hence Sanctuary. And you have still not answered my question.*
His own hunger and irritation betrayed him into impatience. *I am a blade. And-* He bit the thought off, but she saw, and she completed it for him, a tinge of mockery in the sing-song touch of her mind as she tasted his chagrin.
*You are a blade. And you commanded the greatest alliance of Hives that has ever been, you were there when we drove the cursed Lanteans from this galaxy and forced them to sink their beautiful city beneath the waves. You were Consort, you were Commander, you were Hivemaster, and the trivial requirements of a presumptuous child are beneath you.*
She rose from her throne, and the mists writhed in the flick and flare of her long coat as she walked towards him. She had sent the drones away, and they were completely alone. Her scarlet hair was loose about her shoulders, and her coat was open, allowing him to trace the path of the twining black tail of her clan tattoo to where it vanished into the hollow between her breasts. He stood dumbly, unable to move as she halted in front of him. Her nearness, the scent of her that filled his nostrils and sense pits, inflamed and chilled him at the same time. Her wide eyes sought out his gaze, and he was lost in their smoky depths. *So you are a blade, and I am the presumptuous child at play in the ruins of your precious golden age.*
*Yes.* No thought of dissembling; he even felt a dizzy twist of relief that she understood the impossibility of the situation.
*Then strike, if you are truly a blade.* She placed a knife in his off hand, folding his fingers round the grip when he did not move to take it. He began to tremble as she shrugged off her coat and let it fall behind her, lifting her chin proudly. *Do you not wish to be rid of me?*
*No. No-* He tried to back away, to drop the knife, but her mind closed around his like a fist.
She took another step forward so that the tip of the blade dimpled the soft skin just beneath her breastbone, and whispered out loud, "Make no mistake, Guide, your Queen, your precious Snow, is dead and dust these many millennia. I am your Queen now."
"Stop." He was trembling so hard he could barely form the word. They were so close that his breath stirred the scarlet hair on her brow. A drop of blood drew a line down her belly from the tip of the knife, and she glanced down at it, and smiled.
*You see? It would be easy.* She released him from compulsion so abruptly that he swayed, and she steadied him, holding his gaze with those fearless eyes. *I will be your Queen, or I will be dead. You must choose.*
*No.*
*Yes. Kneel before your Queen!*
He was panting like a man in a fever. "No. No. Never."
*Then strike me down.*
Between clenched teeth. *"I. Will. Not."*
"Strike!"
*No-*
"Strike!"
He was beyond words, teeth bared in a savage snarl as he drove the blade home. She fell at his feet in a spreading pool of blood, and he sank to his knees, the knife dropping from his fingers, reaching out for her.
The scarlet hair, fine and soft, so like hers...
*Guide.*
He lifted his head vaguely, still stunned by the violence of the moment, and between one blink of the eye and the next, everything slipped in a sickening lurch of perception.
He was still in the holding-pen, the bloody corpse was gone, and there were drones all around him. The only thing that had not changed was that he was still on his knees. Realisation turned his guts to ice. So simple, a child could have seen through it.
Her boot heels clicked as she walked round from behind him. Her hair was still tightly laced in that complicated braid, and her coat buttoned to the neck. *A child could have seen through it, yes... but you did not. I find that most intriguing.*
Shame burned hotter even than the hunger in his bones. He hunched his shoulders and kept his face averted so that she would not see the tears that forced their way from beneath his closed eyelids. Oh, my Queen...
*Out.* The drones filed obediently from the cell, and after a pause, she followed them. He heard the rustle as the web door expanded to fill the opening. This time, she did not speak as she walked away.
Two drones had brought him the short distance from the holding-pen. Now they held him by the arms, their attention on the cleverman waiting beside the feeding cells.
*Queen Sanctuary has ordered that you feed.* The scientist glanced at Guide, mind veiled but exuding a mixture of curiosity and distaste as he tapped something into the data pad he carried.
*Why?* His bald question surprised the cleverman.
*Our data indicates that catabolysis has set in. That is, due to lack of nourishment, your body has begun to break down its own muscular and organic tissue-*
*I know what catabolysis is.* Guide straightened momentarily, distracted by his irritation at the youngster's condescension. *I meant, why does Sanctuary care what happens to me?*
*Our Queen does not like to be thwarted.* The cleverman met his gaze for the first time with sharp, intelligent eyes. *You offend her, blade. She doesn't want you to become too weak to tell her what she wants to know.* He nodded towards the nearest cell, where a young man hung in the restraint webs, watching them with dull eyes. *Take that one.*
The drones dragged him across so that he was face to face with the man. When they dropped his arms, he was so weak he all but fell, and had to steady himself against the webs. The man whimpered in terror, dark eyes showing white all round the iris, and Guide dragged the sweet fear-scent into his lungs in an ecstatic gasp. His need was so acute he did not even wait to cut through the man's shirt but fumbled his shaking hand flat, flexing his fingers to set his claws, snarling as his handmouth sliced through fabric and flesh together and he began to drink, clinging to the webs oblivious to all but the soothing flood of the life-force washing through him. His own cries mingled with those of the human, and he was not aware of anything until the cleverman's voice spoke, right behind him.
*That's enough.*
The drones wrenched his handmouth away from the man's flesh too quickly, and he tasted his own blood in the torn feeding membranes. The cleverman watched him dispassionately as he cradled the injured hand. Guide snarled at him reflexively.
*Why did you stop me?*
*Queen's orders.* The scientist tapped at his data pad again. *You're permitted only enough to keep you alive. Nothing more.*