I Became an Ant Lord, So I Built a Hive Full of Beauties

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"Properly. Not that sideways collapse on a crate she calls rest. If she wakes up in the middle of the night and realizes I am gone, I would rather she shout at you first instead of marching into the forest with a scalpel."

Miryam's mouth curved.

"I can distract her," she said. "There is still stew. And injuries. And she likes complaining. I will keep her busy."

"Good," Kai said. "You are terrifyingly efficient when you want to be. Stay inside. Watch the Net. If anything moves on the horizon that is not a sand lizard, wake me through the Road and I will sprint back with my clothes on fire."

She sniffed.

"I will judge your sprinting form," she said, and stepped aside.

He left her there, leaning against the wall, aura flickering like banked flame.

By the time the mountain settled fully into night, the scars of the day had blurred further.

Torches burned low in their brackets. The murmur of voices in the common halls had thinned to the occasional cough, a soft snore, a whispered joke from a late watch. Somewhere, Shadeclaw's voice rumbled quietly as he lectured a small group of drones about how not to die stupidly in the next war.

Kai sat alone on the edge of his bed, boots on the floor, elbows on his knees.

The honey warmth had settled into a steady hum. His body felt… ready. In a way that had nothing to do with fighting.

He closed his eyes and let his awareness slide sideways, away from Net and stone.

The Soul Road opened.

He did not need to shout down it.

He thought her name, and the thread was already there, like a line stretched and waiting.

You are late, Ikea's voice brushed his mind. I was beginning to compose a tragic song about being stood up in a forest by a man who owes me at least half a night.

You could have started without me, he sent back. I hear some people enjoy their own company.

I do, she said. But this is about research. It would be scientifically irresponsible to alter the parameters halfway through the experiment. Are you coming?

I am, he said. Try not to make any more deals on my behalf between now and then.

No promises, she said. The world keeps offering me idiots. It is rude not to interfere. Hurry.

He opened his eyes, stood, and let his aura wrap around him in a thin, close mantle.

He left by the same side passage as before.

The gate captain looked up from his stool, blinked once at the sight of Kai apparently intact and in motion, and wisely said nothing.

The desert outside had cooled under the thin skin of night. Stars pricked the sky in scattered clusters. The Scarlet army was a distant memory now; no campfires marked their presence on the horizon.

The forest line ahead was a dark, breathing shadow.

Kai walked faster this time.

His legs remembered the path. So did something else inside him. The trees seemed to lean aside slightly as he approached, as if recognizing his aura now that it carried a faint imprint of queen honey.

She had moved.

The earlier clearing was empty.

The thread tugged him deeper.

The second glade was smaller, enclosed by a ring of close-grown trunks and overhanging branches that wove together overhead, leaving only a narrow window of night sky. The ground was a carpet of dry moss and old leaves, soft underfoot.

Wards hummed at the edge of his senses. Old, subtle, layered. They did not push him away. They merely tasted his aura, compared it to something already on their list, and let him pass.

Ikea waited at the center of the glade.

She had changed.

Not much.

The tunic was different – softer, darker, cut looser around her legs, cinched higher at the waist. Her hair was tied back in a rough knot, leaving her throat and the sharp line of her collarbones bare. The faint red marks along her arms glowed a little more in the dark, like half-awakened embers.

Her bare feet were sunk into the moss.

"You look better," she said, eyes running over him in a frank appraisal that had nothing to do with battle readiness. "Stand up straight. Let me see if the honey did its work."

He obliged, spreading his arms slightly like a soldier being inspected.

She stepped closer.

Her hand slid up his chest, fingers tracing the place where bruises had been not long ago. She pressed harder than Miryam had.

He did not flinch.

"Very good," she murmured. "No caving in. No wince. The queen would be pleased with herself if she were not currently being a series of tasteful crystals in a reliquary somewhere."

"She left good leftovers," Kai said. "I will send a thank-you note to her tomb if you ever show me the way."

Her fingers drifted to his shoulder, curled there.

"Do not joke about bee tombs," she said lightly. "You will relive old stories. They will want endings."

"Everything wants endings," Kai said. "I am trying to push mine further down the road."

"Today you succeeded," she said. "Tomorrow might be more complicated."

Her expression shifted, a small cloud crossing her face.

"Tomorrow," he said, "we will deal with tomorrow. Tonight you said this was about research."

She smiled again, slow.

"Yes," she said. "Field research. Comparative study. How does a man who has just survived an eight star's ledger duel perform when his body has been reset to defaults and his aura is humming in all the right places."

"You make it sound very clinical," Kai said. "Should I be taking notes?"

"If you like," she said. "I usually remember the important parts. Questions later. Right now we establish a baseline."

She stepped in close enough that the hem of her tunic brushed his thighs.

Her free hand lifted, trailing up the side of his neck, along his jaw, fingers finding the faint line where Vorak's knife had scraped earlier. The skin there was smooth now. No scar.

"This was a good mark," she said quietly. "It would have suited you. A reminder that not all debts are paid in full. Pity about the honey. It cleans too well."

"I have plenty of other scars," he said.

"I know," she said. "I licked some of them that night."

His breath hitched.

She smiled, satisfied with the response.

"Relax," she murmured. "You are not on a ramp. You do not have to count anyone's breath but your own right now."

"That is the problem," he said. "I am suddenly paying a lot of attention to it."

She laughed softly and leaned in.