The Unfavorable Read online

  I rap my knuckles against the sticks making up the door and wait to hear if there is any movement inside. My stomach drops. There’s no sound coming from the other side of the door. He must still be out in the orchards with the rest of the Harvesters. I should have thought about the time before dragging her here.

  He didn’t know I would be bringing someone by, I didn’t even know I was, so why would he have thought to stay home today?

  Knocking on the door again, I pray on the off chance he didn’t hear my first one. I don’t have high hopes, but I’m not sure what else to do. I brought her all this way, got her hopes up, just to have him be out.

  Still no answer or movement inside. Now I know I screwed up – I should have thought about this possibility before bringing her all the way out here.

  Anger pumps through my body with every second that passes while I think of what to tell Alora. Nothing comes to mind, and she speaks before I can make up an excuse.

  “I knew it,” she chides.

  I stare at the door trying to control my anger. I’m not sure what I’ll say with my frustration increasing with every breath. Clenching my fists, I dig my nails into my skin to try and compartmentalize my anger.

  “You’re messing with me,” she continues after a breath. “I let myself be clouded by emotion and threw away reason. Take me home.”

  She stomps back towards the market, almost as enraged as I am. I have half a mind to let her go. To walk aimlessly through the woods and get lost. Accuse me of pranking her when I’ve risked my own neck and reputation to help her?

  She can go jump in a Boiler for all I care, if she’s going to act like that.

  Still, I can’t ignore the reason I brought her here. I don’t owe her anything, but Micah I owe my life. I can’t let his younger sister go off alone. He would never forgive me, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.

  With a savage growl, I hurry after her. Jogging, it only takes me a few strides to catch up with her. Going back through the market, the crowds have dissipated, and the stand proprietors are packing up their goods for the day.

  Everyone is preparing to welcome home those that have been outside the village working. I would be one of them if I hadn’t gone against my better judgement and decided to help this pestering Favorable.

  The walk should be awkward, but it isn’t. In fact, the quiet that ensues is refreshing and allows my anger to subside. We’re minutes from being able to see the opening into the Boiler room when I take the chance to look up at Alora.

  It’s a risk, because it could bring back all the anger she solicited an hour ago, back at the front door of her brother’s hut. With deep breaths, I can keep calm. In a sense, anyway. She’s still angry, walking quickly and stomping her feet unnecessarily hard on the ground.

  What bugs me the most, is how she doesn’t look at anything around her. Not one tree or bush. The things she found so amazing just a couple hours before mean nothing now. Knowing that I upset her like that causes guilt to siphon through my veins like poison, along with confusion about why I care so much. It’s unlike me.

  I’ve had women before. I’ve courted them with the rest of the boys my age. The difference for me, though? I never thought about finding a wife like my friends did. I didn’t think twice about whether I want to bring children into this world.

  The life we lead, as Unfavorable, isn’t as clean, organized, quiet, prosperous, or even as gratifying as what the Favorable are given – literally, handed – in Geha. Children shouldn’t have to grow up to work for people on a hill that they will never see and will never even receive a thank you from.

  I’m not saying that I want to have kids with this girl, I still don’t want to put a child through this life. There’s just something about her that I want more from. More than anything I had with…well, anyone else. Even if she pisses me off. It’s the fiery, passionate, daring side of her that made me want to her help her in the first place.

  Lost in thought, I didn’t see the Boilers come into view. I only notice because Alora suddenly picks up her pace. The only thought that passes through my mind seeing that, is panic about never seeing her again.

  “Wait,” I cry, a little louder than is probably necessary.

  She doesn’t flinch or miss a beat in her step. Scurrying after her, I practically face plant in the dirt trying to get her to stop and listen to me.

  “I’m sorry, okay?” I beg.

  “Don’t talk to me,” she advises me. I let out a low growl and move in front of her. She finally stops and glares at me.

  “Let me talk for a second,” I request. She doesn’t look too pleased with it, though.

  “Get out of my way,” she grumbles forcefully.

  “I didn’t think before bringing you to his hut,” I attempt to explain. “He didn’t know you were coming so he wasn’t there to see you. He works in the orchards during the day. Come back tomorrow.”

  “No,” she states, a warning in her eyes. She tries to walk around me, but I move in front of her, enough to block her path.

  “Please,” I implore. “I’ll make sure he’s there tomorrow. I promise.”

  “Get out of my way.”

  She pushes passed me and I let her go this time. Even though there’s no guarantee that she’ll be back, I’m going to make sure Micah is around tomorrow. For some reason, her opinion of me matters more than my reputation. There’s no way I’m going to let her think I’m an asshole like the guys I grew up with. I’m not that kind of guy, and that won’t be her last perception of me, if I have any say in it.

  Chapter 9

  Alora

  Fury driving me forward, I thrust myself around Ryder and towards my reprieve: the Boiler room, where I can slip through and get back to Geha. My home. Where I belong. Not out here with Ryder and the rest of the Unfavorable.

  I shouldn’t have let my emotions get the better of me. I let it cloud my judgement, and he used my weakness against me. After everything I’ve been taught, I should have been smarter than this. It’s my own fault I got into this mess. I’m grateful that Ryder doesn’t try to stop me from going back this time.

  Stomping along the grass, I keep my eyes targeted on my destination. The humidity hits me the minute my foot touches clay again. In my peripherals, I can see the Burners preparing to leave for the day. It gives me the perfect distraction to slip in unnoticed. I duck into the room with shelves of scrolls without any problems.

  Not knowing whether Ryder decided to follow me or not, I grab the bag out of the drawer and practically run back to the gate without stopping to change. I’m on the other side, key replaced on its hook, and bolting up the clay stairs – two at a time – until I’m out of anyone’s line of sight still in the Boiler room.

  Changing quickly back into my Geha garb on the stairs, I trot back down to the gate with the leather pack in hand once I’m fully clothed again. I stop on the bottom step, seeing Ryder there, leaning against the wall on the left. He glances up at me, sorrow clear as day on his features.

  His eyes are the worst, though. There’s pain in them. I try to look away and ignore it, ignore him, but his anguish pulls at my heartstrings. My anger subsides just long enough to toss the leather pack at the foot of the gate, and race back up the stairs.

  This time, going all the way up until I’m right underneath the trapdoor. Lifting it just enough so I can see the alley, I make sure the coast is clear before lifting myself back into the purified air of Geha. I sprint the length of the alleyway, not stopping until I’m on the side of the Central Hall building.

  I’m careful walking the rest of the way back home. My steps are quick, but quiet on the paved roads. I don’t see anyone along the streets. Not even Loyals are wandering around looking for stragglers before the power is off for the evening. I’m glad, though. It saves me the trouble of trying to explain why I’m out and about alone when it’s nearly dark.

  I had no idea I had wasted so much time fumbling around outside the city with Ryder. It’s li
ke time melts away when I’m with him. However, I’m not sure if I like it that way or not. Mostly because I’m not sure whether I can trust him after today. I can’t tell if he was being sincere when he apologized, but I really hope that he was.

  My parent’s house comes into view before I expect it to. From the hours of walking around today and all the new knowledge I’ve acquired, I’m almost completely drained, so my focus isn’t that great right now. My feet are beginning to drag along the concrete with every step. Even my head is foggy, now.

  Although all I’ve had to eat today was that blue apple, I’m not even hungry. I’m only moderately aware that my parents are probably home right now and wondering where I am. Part of me even hopes that they worried I had disappeared like Micah did, so maybe they’ll care about him again.

  Walking in the front door, Mom and Dad both rush me from their seats at the dining room table.

  Good, they missed me.

  They’re fussing about something as they lead me into the kitchen for food, but I wave it away. I’m not paying attention. Even the smell of it makes my stomach churn. Nothing they say is making it into my head. It’s all just incoherent buzzing that’s only adding to the fog clouding my mind. Every time I open my mouth to speak, Mom butts in and doesn’t give me the opportunity to. It doesn’t take long before I’m fed up.

  “Guys!” I yell out in front of me. I’m so grateful that they both shut up I almost shed tears of joy. “I’m not hungry, I just want to go to bed.”

  “Are you going to tell us where you were today?” Mom asks, her tone gentle. Like she’s talking to an infant.

  “No,” I growl between gritted teeth. “I have time to decide what I want my path to be, and I can do what I like to figure out what that is.”

  A beat passes before Dad pipes in.

  “Okay, sweetie,” he acknowledges, clearing his throat. “We were just concerned. If you’re not hungry we won’t force you to eat. Go ahead to bed.”

  “Thank you,” I respond, as politely as I can.

  Without hesitation, I exit the kitchen and go directly to my room. As I know they are following my every breath, when inside I close the door just enough, so it looks fully closed. I hear Mom sigh, along with their footsteps making their way back to the table.

  I open my bedroom door as quietly as possible before tiptoeing down the hallway and leaning my back against the wall. I’m not usually one for sneaking, but I’m exceptionally paranoid with their behavior. The question of who to trust bouncing around my head more and more, I must know what they are going to say without me around.

  Glancing around the kitchen for a moment, I see them sitting back in the spots they were in when I first arrived home, mugs of tea long cooled sitting in front of them. Mom stares worryingly into her mug, and Dad is anxiously rubbing his jawline.

  “I’m worried about her, Cormac,” Mom whispers to Dad. “She’s never acted like that before. Not even when he disappeared.”

  “His name was Micah, Cordondra,” Dad emphasizes. “You can say it. He’s not our son anymore, so the name means nothing. It always will to her, I’m afraid.”

  “Micah, then,” she repeats with a sigh. “It still doesn’t excuse her behavior.”

  “She’s just nervous,” he defends. “She has a lot of pressure on her right now. There hasn’t been anyone in centuries who has scored that well on the Bleeding Rite. She’ll be okay once she makes a decision.”

  “I hope so,” Mom sighs again. She takes a sip of her tea, not even registering the fact that it is ice cold by now.

  I’m glad that they’re so certain about where I’ll be in a couple days. I’m not so sure.

  Chapter 10

  Ryder

  I lean against the clay wall for about an hour thinking about the events of today and the different ways I went wrong. How I could have done things differently. How I should have done them differently.

  Watching her run up the stairs back to Geha almost tore me apart, but I won’t let my pain keep me from doing what I can to make sure everything is prepared if she does come back tomorrow. It’s a long shot, especially with how badly I messed up, but I can’t handle the thought of those being our last moments together. The anxiety over whether she’ll come back at all is more than enough for one person right now.

  Kicking off the wall, I go straight out of the Boiler room towards Landow. I start out at a brisk walk, but I’m sprinting within minutes. The air that whips past me while I run clears my head a little and calms my nerves.

  What normally takes over two hours to travel, takes me around an hour and five minutes to traverse. I’m exhausted and out of breath, but I make it to the village without passing out. Years of hard labor molded my body well enough, so running is difficult but I’m able to sustain a decent pace the whole way back.

  Town is bustling and noisy from the return of the workers. Everyone is preparing for a night of celebration. Every night is a celebration when no one is killed by a Loyal trying to get people to work harder. Work faster.

  I would normally be a part of the festivities, but I have other, more pressing things on my mind right now. Maneuvering my way in between the massive amount of people populating the main street, it almost takes me longer to reach Micah’s hut than it did to get back to Landow.

  Unlike me, he doesn’t usually partake in the parties that will go on for several hours, well passed when the sun has left the sky.

  I make sure to catch my breath before knocking. I don’t want him to think that anything is wrong. He’s always been able to read me like a book. Shaking out my limbs, I step up to the door and listen for movement. Someone is taking their time walking throughout.

  Breathing deeply, and trying to look as normal as possible, I rap my knuckles against the wooden door again – in the same fashion I had earlier in the day. It takes a few moments, but Micah opens the door and welcomes me with a smile.

  “Ryder, my friend,” he greets, giving me a hug. “What can I do for you? I’m surprised you’re not out with the rest of the village drinking and celebrating. Finding some woman to court and lay with.”

  “Not feeling up to it tonight,” I say, giving him a courtesy chuckle for his comment. Alora is the only thing on my mind right now. “I wanted to talk to you.”

  “Come in, come in,” he waves, ushering me inside. “I’m almost finished making a stew for tonight.”

  “A stew?” I ask, following him into the hut and shutting the door behind me. “You make the best rabbit stew. When did you find time to hunt?”

  “I set a trap out this morning,” he informs me, stirring a small pot hanging over a small fire to the left side of the room. “Picked it up on my way back from the Orchards. You better be joining me for dinner. I made way more than enough for myself the next few days.”

  “Happy to,” I grin, halfheartedly.

  I sit down on a wooden couch off to the right of the hut. It has a bed of hay on top, so it isn’t so hard to sit on. I rub the back of my neck with my right hand, debating how exactly to bring up his sister.

  Silence ensues. It’s a little awkward, but it looks like it’s only me. Micah is focused on making the stew. He takes a small pot off a shelf to his right and throws a pinch of seasoning into the hanging metal bowl, as steam rises from its contents. I watch him work his magic while my head swirls with the different ways to tell him who I’ve been helping the past couple days.

  The bubbling of the stew in the hanging cauldron above the fire hypnotizes me. Though the stew should have taken at least another half an hour to cook, it seems like Micah is putting a full bowl of steaming grub in my palms in seconds. The day has really taken a toll on me if minutes are going by like seconds.

  I take the spoon within the bowl and push the contents around, trying to cool off the meat, carrots, and potatoes faster. It smells good, but I have no appetite. All I can think about is Alora and how she left.

  What is she doing? Where is she? What is she thinking about? Is she still
pissed at me?

  I keep mixing the stew in my bowl in circles. Maybe if I stir it long enough, it’ll show me a vision of her.

  “So, what’s up, Ryder?” Micah asks, chewing on a bit of meat. “Something is clearly on your mind. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” I insist. It’s only a half fib. “Why would you say that?”

  “You’ve been unusually quiet tonight, mate,” he points out, taking another big spoonful of stew into his mouth. “And you haven’t touched your stew.”

  “I, uh,” mumble, hesitating.

  With a quiet sigh, I take a large spoonful into my mouth, savoring the flavor before swallowing it. The meat is savory – cooked to perfection, and the salt, pepper, and garlic mixes with potatoes and carrots in a way that emphasizes their sweetness. Delicious, as usual, but I’m not sure it’ll stay down.

  “That wasn’t very convincing,” he chuckles.

  “It’s just been a strange couple of days,” I admit, swallowing the morsel as best as my throat will allow. “I can’t seem to fully wrap my head around it yet.”

  “Tell me about it,” he offers, leaning over so his elbows are on his knees. He continues eating bites of stew as he listens, scraping the bottom of the bowl.

  “I don’t think you’ll believe me if I tell you,” I laugh, with a shake of my head. “I still don’t believe it.”

  “Try me,” Micah insists, setting the empty bowl on the table to his left.

  “Well,” I begin, slowly. “I’ve been spending time with your sister.”

  “What?” he asks, incredulously.

  Immediately he believes me, his shock evident in not only his expression, but his entire body. His entire frame stiffens in protective awe.

  “I never told anyone I have a sister,” he continues, never blinking as he stares at me.

  “She came into the Boiler room yesterday,” I inform him. “She surprised me, busting into the pipe room. She was asking a bunch of questions about Unfavorable and stuff. I mean, she looks just like you, mate.”