Free Malevolent (The Puzzle Box Series Book 1) by K.M. Carroll Page A

softly, "Queens and subjects, what must I do to help you?"
    "More life, more life," they sang. "Honey?"
    "I'm sorry, but there is no more, and my salve is unfit for your consumption."
    They hummed, then trilled, "This is a good place. You can draw on its life."
    I sighed and bowed my head. Ever I was forced to call upon my own black power, and ever it attempted to consume my last shreds of humanity.
    I returned to the trunk. Libby watched me, arms folded, rain pattering on her coat. "Did the bees say something?"
    I had already told her too much. I shrugged and dug into the trunk's contents. I shoved things on top of the puzzle box, as if hiding it from sight could minimize its humanizing effect on me.
    "You spoke to those bees and they answered you. I just couldn't understand them."
    My arm arrested in its search. She had heard them speak. No one ever heard that. What could it mean? Was she simply observant, or did she have a natural penchant for magic? Perhaps there was a reason Robert had targeted her.
    Beneath the rigid logic that kept me following my creed, my loneliness cried out for her companionship. I desired to tell her everything, there in the rain among my bees, but I held my tongue in check. I had ruined my own life before through too much talk--I was not foolish enough to do it again. A secret, once told, was no longer a secret, and betrayal was a breath away.
    "Yes, I understand my bees. I've grown adept at interpreting their innate language."
    That was all she needed to know.
    I withdrew several items from the trunk. An iron rod, a stick of chalk, and a box of powdered rowan berries. I would not be able to pass this off as science. "You should go. It is cold, and you are ill."
    "I want to help. It's my fault he hurt your bees."
    I rose to my feet and met her eyes. Dark, vibrant eyes, either gray or brown. Brown hair fell in wisps from under the hood of her raincoat, delicate and soft. Her face, while gaunt from illness and nearly as pale as myself, still burned with life. The very thing I had lost so long ago.
    My resistance gave way. I kicked myself for it, but the girl had bewitched me. I exhaled through pursed lips. "Very well. Watch and do not touch."
    I drew circles around all four hives, murmuring to my bees to remain inside. The wet pavement turned my chalk to a smear of white. Then I marked the compass points with rowan powder that instantly soaked up the rain. I walked clockwise around each hive, touching the iron rod to each point, and pushing a burst of powerful, magnetic death magic into each one.
    At the conclusion of each circle, the chalk and powder fizzed away into nothing. The magic drew life through the ground from the surrounding orchards and fields. A tiny amount, comparatively, but enough to heal each colony. The ground inside the circle grew warmer.
    Libby inhaled deeply. "Whatever you're doing, it's making me feel better."
    I studied her in my peripheral vision. I could better see mote concentrations that way. Golden light swirled into her diseased, blackened body, and some of the black peeled away.
    She had a magical affinity, certainly. Perhaps enough to be a Marcher. But what did I know of such things? I, who learned from stolen books and by spying on secret ceremonies, until captured and punished ... but they could not strip my memories.
    I inhaled and mentally shook myself. It did no good to dwell on the past.
    Libby walked to each hive and listened to the hum inside. "They sound normal again. What did that do, anyway? Could you draw a circle around me and heal me?"
    I stroked my chin. "I honestly do not know. Your problem is more extensive than theirs."
    Three bees landed on my shoulder and sang in my ear. "She could be healed at a place we have found. We could show you."
    I nodded at Libby. "The next sunny day we have, I will attempt it. I must do research, however."
    Her face lit in a smile that quickened my pulse. Emotion quivered inside me--new, raw, frightening emotion. Blast