12. Calvin

CALVIN

" N o, you have to grip it like this. And your stance is too stiff. Widen your— No, Caretaker." Ser Beatrix drags a metal-plated hand down her face as she groans. I've been wasting her time, I'm sure, for the past thirty-five minutes. Instead of letting me sit on the sidelines like I originally wanted, Ser Beatrix insisted I train with her troops to inspire morale.

But all I've inspired is snickering. It's the damn team-building baseball game all over again. The recruits pair off to spar, but they've been too busy watching me and Ser Beatrix. All except for the smaller drone standing off to the side, holding her stinger blade with trembling arms. It's too heavy for her. Just like the stinger blade Ser Beatrix gave me to practice with is too heavy for me.

My wrists are screaming in pain, but dropping the blade onto the honeycomb tile isn't an option. Sweat rolls down my neck and back as I try to lift the blade again.

"Widen your stance," Ser Beatrix snaps. I dig my heels into the ground, but the flooring is so sticky that my feet won't move another inch. Uh oh. Ser Beatrix lifts her blade, readying herself to strike. "Okay, I'm going to come at you now. Just do what we practiced, and block me. Okay? One, two?—"

"W-Wait a sec—" More sweat rolls down my face, this time over my brows and into my eyes.

"Ser Beatrix, wait!" the smaller recruit from the sidelines shouts, and she rushes forward to put her hand on her captain's wrist, stopping her. "The Caretaker is stuck." She points down at my feet. "See?"

Ser Beatrix blinks, then looks down at my feet. A flush of scarlet creeps across her pale-yellow cheeks, and she sheaths her blade. "I suppose we should have known you would have some difficulties. Please forgive me, Caretaker."

"It's no big deal," I say, and untie my shoelaces before wriggling my feet out of my sneakers. It's the only way I can get free of sticky goop. "Is this … honey? Or nectar?" Do I even want to know?

"A little from column A, little from column B?" the fresh-faced recruit says with a sheepish grin. "I'm Sylvie, by the way."

Sylvie is not only shorter than the other honeybee fae, she's also a lot more lithe, too. And her masquerade mask is unique in that it's not made from any sort of mineral. It's white lace and intricately woven like a spider's web. She doesn't look like she belongs here. Not like I'm going to tell her that, of course, but it is a surprise to see her here.

I stretch my hand out for her to take, but she just stares down at it with wide, unblinking eyes.

"He wishes for you to shake his hand," Ser Beatrix says. "Like this." The captain snatches my hand into hers and squeezes. Hard. I wince until my eyes water, and Ser Beatrix finally releases me. "See? Nice and firm. It's a greeting the humans around here appreciate."

"Oooh," Sylvie says, her mouth forming a small o shape. I can't help but chuckle. "Got it. Nice to meet you!"

"Sylvie, here, was destined to become a forager, but as they're full up and our ranks are thin right now, we took her on," Ser Beatrix says. There's a look that passes between the two. Sylvie's tiny, upturned nose crinkles, and Ser Beatrix quickly looks away and coughs into her hand. "Though we aren't sure if she's going to make it past her training."

"H-Hey!" Sylvie pouts, then stomps her foot. "Why would you say that in front of the Caretaker, Captain?"

I tilt my head to the side, grinning as I watch the pair. "Are you two … friends, by any chance?"

Ser Beatrix's throat bobs before she says, "Absolutely not," at the same time Sylvie answers with an enthusiastic, "Yes!"

They look at one another again, and I bark out a laugh. "It's okay. I won't tell Po—er, Her Highness, if that would be a problem for you two. You can count on me."

Ser Beatrix furrows her brow, while Sylvie just stares at the wall, completely unphased and … apparently zoning out? What an odd woman she is. The thick honeycomb doors squeak as they're pushed open by two knights, and Majordomo Elza strides into the room with her nose in the air. I frown, because … ugh, this woman. I was finally having fun and making some new friends down here, and now it's all over already.

"Caretaker!" Majordomo Elza's voice cracks like a whip in the air. All the recruits stop sparring immediately to turn and put their hands behind their backs as the hive's majordomo strides over to me. "I trust all is going well down here?"

I nod. "Yes. Ser Beatrix has been a great host."

"Good, good," Majordomo Elza says, but she doesn't even look in Ser Beatrix's direction. "We have information regarding your Shrinky-thing."

"The Shrinkatron," I correct her.

She licks her ruby red lips and sneers. "Yes, that. I'm sorry to say this, but it seems as though it's been moved."

All of a sudden, the room spins like I'm on a carnival ride. My heart thunders in my ears, washing out the surrounding voices. I'm vaguely aware of Ser Beatrix or Sylvie's hand on my upper arm as I teeter forward.

"Caretaker?" I wobble to the side and shake my head. I can't break free from the dizzy spell. "Caretaker? Did you hear me?" Majordomo Elza's voice rings into focus. Blinking, I snap my attention back to the majordomo and frown.

"What do you mean, it's been moved?" I ask, panic rising along with the bile in the back of my throat. I'm going to be sick. This is what I was afraid of, and now it's coming true. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. "This is exactly what I thought would happen. This is why I wanted to go back as soon as possible."

Majordomo Elza holds up her satin-gloved hands and winces. "Now, let's not panic. I'm sure there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for this. I have already sent a team to scout the area. We will get to the bottom of this, Caretaker. In the meantime, we still have our ball! You will love the refreshments the chefs are preparing, especially for you."

I clench my jaw. Ser Beatrix must sense my unease, because she flanks me and places her hand on my shoulder again, a protective shield against the tidal wave of pain crashing over me.

"I think it might be best if we wrap up training for today, Caretaker." Ser Beatrix's face is impassive. She must have years of experience honing her emotions like a finely crafted blade. Sylvie, on the other hand, has had no such experience, judging from the way she's literally buzzing off the walls right now.

"I will go and find your shrink ray myself!" she crows, flying up toward the ceiling. Ser Beatrix lets out a long, resigned sigh and shakes her head. "I'm great at finding things! Let me go! I'm ready!"

"Sylvie," Ser Beatrix's voice pierces the air. "Cease and desist at once."

Majordomo Elza does one of her little faux-coughs into her fist. "Ahem. As I said, our scouts are already out searching the area for any signs of your Shrinkatron, Caretaker. But we have the ball later tonight, and everyone is getting ready. There is nothing else we can do. Our wings are tied."

Her dark lashes flutter as her red lips pull back into a tight smile. If I was on the fence about this woman before, I'm not anymore. I don't like Elza. I'm pretty sure my pinky finger contains more empathy than she has in her entire body. Ser Beatrix turns back to her recruits and shouts at them to clean up and get ready for the night's festivities. They all do, except for Sylvie, who hovers near me like a mayfly at a picnic.

"Caretaker?" Her little voice cracks. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

I let out a sobering sigh and stare down at my mismatched socks. "No. But thanks anyway, Sylvie. Guess I should go get cleaned up for tonight, then, huh?"

"That would be best," Elza says, then sharply turns around so the loose strands of her hair whack me in the face. I flinch from the sting, but as Elza strides out of the room, she either doesn't notice or doesn't care.

My money's on the latter.