Lifeblood (Everlife #2)(19)

“You ready to go home, Number Girl? No? Good, didn’t think so. We’re going to have some fun.” Clay returns me to the woodland wonderland.

Reed and Kayla are seated at a table in back, looking at ease and without a care. The other tables are occupied by people I’ve never met...people who notice me and terminate their conversations. Silence descends.

I shift from one booted foot to the other. War is daunting, but this is worse.

Reed frowns. I gulp. Will he pretend not to know me?

“I should go,” I whisper.

A second later, Reed waves us over.

In a show of solidarity, Clay takes my hand and leads me to our friends.

“—Archer,” I hear someone say.

“I know. She’s the reason he’s dead,” another replies.

The heat drains from my face.

My choice, my consequences.

Before my stay at Prynne, my parents decided everything for me. At Prynne, Dr. Vans did all the deciding. What I ate, what I wore, who I spoke with. When I finally claimed the reins of control, I crashed and burned. Archer paid the price.

He had a life here. A family. People who counted on him. Because of me, they lost him.

I want to shout, “We can bring him back in the Resurrection! Spread the word. Vote for Archer.” But I don’t know anything about the others in the running. Maybe these people hope to bring back a beloved family member.

“I should go,” I repeat. I’m linked to these people through the Grid, so, I don’t just feel the white-hot ping of their stares; I feel the sickening burn of their dislike.

How can I end the war between realms when I can’t convince people predisposed to like me to actually like me?

Buck up. Find a way. The end result matters. Failure isn’t an option. My mom lives in Myriad, along with family I never had the chance to meet. And then there’s Killian, of course.

“We stay.” Clay squeezes my hand. “What has six wheels and flies?”

I’m in no mood for a joke—so what better time to make one? “What else? A garbage truck.”

He shakes a fist at the ceiling. “One day I’m going to stump her.”

As we take our places at the table, Reed offers us a piece of manna from his plate. Clay accepts, but I shake my head. If I swallow a single bite, it will come right back up, guaranteed.

“So what is today’s special?” Clay asks.

“Strawberry and honey,” Kayla replies. “The best yet.”

Okay. We’re clearly in a manna restaurant. Curiosity gets the better of me. “Who farms the manna? And how, exactly, do we pay for it?”

“There’s an agricultural section here in the Capital of New.” Reed taps his palm, types into the Light glowing over his hand, and a map appears in the center of the table. He points to a long sweep of pastureland. “Agronomists, a subdivision of Laborer, plant and harvest the crops.”

His ease with Troikan technology gives me hope. He hasn’t been here long, but look at everything he’s mastered.

“As for money,” Kayla says, “trainees are given a weekly allowance for necessities.”

Reed snorts. “An allowance you hoard, afraid the money will stop coming. When are you gonna realize this place isn’t like the Land of the Harvest.”

Kayla hmphs and flattens her hand on the side of the table. A Light flashes through her brand, and three beeps ring out. “There. I just paid for a fresh round of manna. You’re welcome.”

Sure enough, a waitress—another subdivision of Laborer—soon arrives with a smile and a plate of strawberry and honey manna.

“May you be ever enlightened,” she says before moving off.

Kayla offers me a bite before polishing off two pieces. “If you’d arrived five minutes earlier, you could have met Victor Prince. He’s—”

“Archer’s brother. Yeah.” I shift, uncomfortable again. “I met him when I first arrived.”

“Oh.” She traces a fingertip along the rim of her plate. “He’s tutoring me. He—”

The restaurant is silent, her voice booming. Her cheeks darken. I glance to the entrance and do a double take. My stomach sinks.

Elizabeth is here, and there’s a tall dark-haired guy at her side.

She glares at me, and I lift my chin. If she wants to use me as a punching bag, fine. Go for it. Pain for pain. I’m willing, and I won’t fight back. I deserve it. But I also won’t be cowed.

Kayla trembles, as if she’s the one on the receiving end of Elizabeth’s vitriol. Confrontation of any kind is difficult for her. In Many Ends, she had recoiled from almost every fight.

“Either the Myriad supporter goes,” Elizabeth announces, “or I go. Take your pick. But I suggest you choose wisely. One of us will help you. The other will stab you in the back.”

Murmurs erupt. All eyes focus on me and narrow. Heat sears my cheeks, and I’m sure my color matches Kayla’s. Lobster red.

“I choose you,” Reed tells me. “I’ll always choose you. You saved my life.”

I’m overcome with gratitude. Problem is, I know Elizabeth will make life miserable for him. “No,” I say. “Choose her.” Nausea churns in my gut as I stand. “She’s—”

“No way.” Clay stands beside me, and Reed quickly follows suit. Kayla, too.