The Bee King

The Bee KingMathilda ZellerAmpersand Books Copyright ©2023 by Mathilda Zeller Cover Design Copyright ©2023 by Kari SchuerchAll rights reserved.No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. Contents Content Note Dedication . Chapter 1. Monsters 2. Contracts 3. Finery 4. Jalopy 5. Moon Bees 6. Saint Millicent's 7. Egg Cream 8. Oleander 9. Visitors 10. Unborn Queen 11. Moon Honey 12. Perfidy 13. Blackberries 14. Jelly 15. Honeypuppies 16. Sacred Knowledge 17. Wax 18. The Bee King 19. King Suite 20. Birthright 21. Kerosene 22. Golden Liability 23. Catacombs 24. Oxenbee Thank You Acknowledgments About the Author and Designer Also By Mathilda Zeller Content NoteThe Bee King contains mild language, some fantasy violence, brief depictions of domestic violence, references to human trafficking, and references to sexual assault. For Jane,And her unrelenting determinationto make the world a better place.And for young women everywhere. Wherever there is gold there is a chain, you knowand if your chain is goldso much the worse for you.Feathers, shells,and sea-shaped stonesare all as rare.— "We Alone,” by Alice Walker Chapter One MonstersThe summer was too cold and wet for the crops to survive, and that meant only one thing: the monsters would be here by winter. Anyone else would tell you they were men. They had arms and legs and heads, all the things that men had. If you passed one on the street, you might not even notice anything amiss. Alice knew better. They were monsters. Alice burned as a cool, steady drizzle misted her face and clung to her dark curls, too light to soak them, too heavy to brush off. Normally, Alice liked the cold. It gave the heat in her blood something to fight. But this late in the year, the cold meant blight and crop death. It meant skipped meals. It meant fighting to keep her sister and cousin safe.She brought her ax down hard, cleaving the wood with a satisfying crack. The two pieces fell to the ground like dismembered limbs. She paused to pull her head to one side, stretching the thick cords of muscle from her neck to her shoulder. She chopped wood faster than most men in the town, and even through the derisive glances and snorts, they admired her for it. She was proud of her strength. Usually.“Rough morning?” Lyle asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the fencepost.Alice swung the ax through another log as easily as if it were butter. The smack echoed through the clearing. “Didn’t sleep well last night,” she grumbled, picking up one of the pieces and setting it upright on her chopping stump. “And Helga came over to take my dress measurements and said she’d never seen a bride as muscular as me.”Lyle’s mouth twisted into a half smile. “Good for you, then.”Alice swung the ax again, harder this time. “She didn’t mean it that way and you know it.”“How miserable for her, to be the sort of person who thinks like that.”“In that case, this whole town is miserable.” Alice wiped her sleeve across her nose. Lyle was likely the only one on this wretched island who may notice that she’d been crying, but she hoped he’d just think it was the rain coming down, and perhaps a cold.“Your family would have died ages ago without your strength.” Lyle's voice had turned gentle, and she hated that. It made it harder to hide the fact that she was crying. Alice grunted. “They’d have figured something out.”“Baz would have sold Sarah by now.” Alice grimaced at the thought. Her father loved whiskey, which meant they were always in need of money, but he lacked the resolve to wrestle his daughters into submission to the monsters. She’d always made a way around it, scraping and serving and bartering, threatening to never work again if he tried. As Sarah grew to an age where she caught the monsters’ glances, Alice worked harder. Sarah was brilliant. She was a scientist, out there in the field and forests with her bees and flowers. She harvested honey, beeswax, grew lavender and roses and bee balm and hyssop. People sometimes even came from the mainland for her tinctures. The thought of her father selling her, making her do what others had made daughters do, brought a sour tang to the back of Alice’s throat. She couldn’t abide the idea. She wouldn’t. “You’re not exactly in a position to criticize people selling out for money,” Alice pointed out, desperate for a change of subject.Lyle had become Ingrid VonBlurn’s honeypuppy last year, and though he never complained, he spent as much time as possible out of her house, chatting with Alice or wandering the town. Lyle shook his head, unabashed. “I’m in a perfect position to criticize it.” Alice brought her ax down again, so hard that splinters went flying. Lyle pushed himself off the fence and strode towards her, crouching to pick up the wood she’d just decimated.He stood, his arms full, blinking the drizzle out of his blue eyes. “You don’t have to marry him.”Him. Even unnamed, the reference to Old Vick made her stomach clench. Times had gotten harder and leaner. No matter how many errands she ran for Mrs. VonBlurn, no matter how many trees she felled and fields she plowed, there wasn’t enough. She’d said yes to him last fall on the promise of his support for her family, and on Papa’s promise to keep Sarah in school and out of a marriage bed. Old Vick had leered at Sarah, but settled for Alice.“And do what? Let Papa marry Sarah off instead?” Alice couldn’t allow that. If Old Vick’s drunken rages didn’t kill her sister, the smell at the tannery would.Even the thought of the tannery made her nose curl in disgust. She’d be living there this time next week. She shuddered at the thought of Old Vick’s loose, wet lips; his yellowed hands; his sagging,