Favored (Among the Favored Book 1)

by Stone, C. L.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  FAVORED | Written by C. L. Stone | Published by | Arcato Publishing

  From The Academy Series

  TAELS

  CALLED

  THE PATHS WE TAKE

  THE SPIRIT OF THE OXEN

  THE DEAD WE GRIEVE

  ARRIVAL

  LESSONS

  BATHED

  LETTER

  COME BACK FOR ME

  CONSPIRACY

  ASSETS

  APRICOT

  THE ILLUSION OF CONFIDENCE

  THE SINGING OF THE WALL

  THE REGISTRY

  CONFRONTATION

  SUSPECTS

  INSPECTION

  SELECTION

  FAVORED

  CHECK OUT A SNEAK | PEAK OF ANOTHER FANTASY BY C. L. STONE

  CHAPTER ONE: THORNE

  CHAPTER TWO: IT’S OVER

  More Books by C. L. Stone

  The Academy

  Max

  Kota

  Find out what happens next! | Download Introductions for free.

  ABOUT C. L. STONE

  FAVORED

  Written by C. L. Stone

  Published by

  Arcato Publishing

  COPYRIGHT © 2017, 2018 C. L. Stone

  http://clstonebooks.com

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  From The Academy Series

  Books by C. L. Stone

  The Academy Ghost Bird Series:

  Introductions

  First Days

  Friends vs. Family

  Forgiveness and Permission

  Drop of Doubt

  Push and Shove

  House of Korba

  The Other Side of Envy

  The Healing Power of Sugar

  First Kiss

  Black and Green

  Love’s Cruel Redemption

  The Academy Scarab Beetle Series

  Thief

  Liar

  Fake

  Accessory

  Hoax

  Tempest (Coming Soon!)

  Other C. L. Stone Books:

  Spice God

  Smoking Gun

  Girl in the Bearskin (Once Upon a Harem Book 6)

  THANK YOU FOR DOWNLOADING this book.

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  TAELS

  MY MOTHER’S EYES WERE green, like the sea next to the small village she lived in all of her life.

  My father, a fisherman, often said he married her for her eyes. He loved the ocean, and he loved her.

  When I was born, and my eyes developed into shades of the sea, that was when the fortune-tellers told my father there was too much water in the family. “You need other elements to even it out.”

  Faithful to this, my father planted trees all around the house, creating a forest around our small home. Willows, great broad oaks, evergreens... he encouraged sprites to harbor by building tiny huts out of seashells, inviting magic.

  He also built a second fireplace, which he lit every night from fallen branches around us, and left the doors open to let in air, elements that might bring our house luck. Our house looked bigger with two fireplaces, and people thought us wealthy, even as we struggled along with everyone else. It was twice the work to keep up the chimneys.

  All these elements should have meant better fortunes for our family, and for a while, it worked. We were happy.

  Until one summer, when my mother insisted on going out to sea with my father.

  “I want to join you on your adventures instead of hearing about them.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “I miss you too much when you’re gone.”

  My father warned her it was dangerous. She said it was just as dangerous for him and convinced him to let her go along.

  They promised to bring me in a couple of years, when I was older.

  I was fourteen at the time they departed, attending school in the village, and already in charge of the garden and chickens. I could boil an egg and feed myself.

  They asked Dr. Aoi, my teacher, to keep an eye out for me. I knew I would miss them, but the lure of their promise that I could join them in a couple of years spurred me to focus on my studies and work hard to become strong enough to join a ship. I reveled in my independence.

  Months passed. The ship eventually returned.

  My parents didn’t.

  The crew said there was a terrible storm. When they managed to get away from it and do a headcount, my parents, along with a handful of other crewmembers, were missing.

  Gravestones were built to honor the dead. Despite the bodies not being in the earth, I still visited the gray marble columns with my parents’ names written on them in black letters. I was angry and bitter at first, but eventually I grieved. The winds from the sea whipped into my teary eyes, icing my face, just as cold as my heart felt.

  What if I had been with them?

  I remembered my father’s warnings of danger and thought how my mother must have been too much water for a ship to handle. I vowed never to set foot on a ship. I would be bad luck.

  I NEVER RETURNED TO school. I was too paranoid about starvation, since there wouldn’t be any more fish unless I caught them myself from the pier. I was alone, and there were bitter winters to prepare for.

  Dr. Aoi brought books to my door once a week.

  “I don’t need to read,” I told him one day, annoyed at the clutter of books on my table when I had so many chores to complete. “I haul fresh water to the garden in the dry heat of summer. I chase the rabbits from the cabbages and the crows from the beans. I trade what few possessions I have left for rice. I’m too tired at the end of the day to read.”

  He knelt on the floor near the table, with knobby hands and squinty eyes and lashes like spider legs. He was important in the village, a doctor and a teacher, and a big believer in every child knowing all the kanji characters in our written language. “Your mother would have wanted you to,” he’d say calmly and recommend another book.

  Despite my bitterness, I did read, more often because I was alone in the house, surrounded by trees and creatures that slithered or flew among the branches. The isolation didn’t bother me, but in the night, with fires burning in the two fireplaces, I’d open a book and bring my own worlds to life in my mind. Any kanji characters I didn’t know, I copied them for Dr. Aoi to tell me what they were later.

  Over the next five years, the pile of books on my table grew. Dr. Aoi had so many at his house, I suspected he used my table as a warehouse to store the books he was tired of. Regardless, I grew fond of them, especially the accounts of countries far away from our village, and stories where women did not work like I did, in the soil, but in fine houses, directing servants or sewing delicate kimonos.

  One early morning when I was nineteen, singing, a light silvery song woke me. I was sure I was dreaming.

  I rose from the tatami mat, the blanket falling away from my body. My long, straight black hair shifted around my shoulders. I bent my knees to sit cross-legged, one leg knocking a book I’d fallen asleep reading off the mat.

&nb
sp; I listened, fingers pressed to my ear as if this would assist me in detecting where the sound was coming from.

  The song was in a language foreign to me, the tone that of a male trying to mimic the higher pitches of a woman’s natural voice. The source was close enough to the house that someone had to be standing just behind the wall.

  I scrambled out of bed, adjusting the thin length of old fish net I used to tie a peasant skirt around my waist and dusting soot from my hair. A breeze from outside swept down from the fireplace and undid my efforts. My bed was too close to the fire, but it had been colder at night. All the other rooms were empty, since I’d sold anything of real value for food.

  I dashed out the door. A beam of sunlight struck me in the eyes through the tree canopy. Shielding my eyes, I searched the trees and the garden, looking for the source.

  On the branch of a willow tree sat a hawk-sized bird, with blue feathers on its stomach and a fluffy, wispy white tail like snow.

  It opened its delicate white beak and sang. Octaves changed at different lines, and tones changed, developing crescendos and then quieting, somber.

  I froze, surprised by a bird able to sing well enough to sound so human, and that the bird hadn’t flown as I’d rushed out as graceful as a cow. I crept toward the willow, using the low-hanging branches to mask me as I watched it, in awe of its beauty and song.

  It repeated its song and I tried to mimic it.

  It stopped at the sound of my voice, feathers rising at its neck and tail splaying out in full.

  I closed my lips, unsure if it wanted a singing partner. I didn’t often use my voice and had no idea about the art of singing.

  Just when I thought it wouldn’t sing again and I should go back inside, it started up again, slow, one note at a time.

  Was it showing me how to sing along?

  I didn’t know the words, so I hummed the same notes, one after the other, for every word. I got the hang of it and hummed with it as it sang.

  I edged myself closer to the tree. The branches hung in a wide circle, and the bird was at the very top, sitting far out of my reach. I just wanted a closer look.

  A hand reached out from among the branches, snagged my elbow, and yanked me into the mess of hanging branches.

  My face smacked into a branch on the way in, splitting my lip. Dazed, I landed on my knees on the soft earth and grass, holding my face, pain radiating from my mouth. Blood pooled at my teeth. I spat it out at the dirt.

  When I opened my eyes, I recognized the face of the young man who had pulled me in. I had known him in school, but I couldn’t recall the name.

  He had a dark tan, more from heritage than sun. His eyes were as black as polished onyx. His skin was taut at his high cheekbones and had a youthful glow. His dark hair was smoothed back into a ponytail at the nape. He wore a plain-colored man’s kimono with kimono trousers.

  He kneeled over me, his hand on my shoulder, pulling me into the underside of the branches with him. He glowered at me, and then his expression changed into one of recognition. “I know you,” he whispered.

  This surprised me. I had been quiet as a girl and didn’t think anyone had noticed me. I was sure I would have been forgotten since I’d been out of school for so long. “I know you, too,” I said and then stopped, covering my mouth with my hand again and sucking at the blood. I wanted to scold him for pulling me, but his fancy clothes threw me off. I thought I remembered him in peasant clothes, like mine, when we were in school. He was so clean and formal now; I didn’t know how to address him.

  The bird continued its song and then slowed, one note at a time, as if waiting for me to sing back.

  “What’s your name?” he whispered, easing back to sit on the ground, his back against the willow’s trunk. “Isn’t it...no, I can’t remember.”

  “Mizuki,” I said. “What’s yours? And why did you yank me in here?” The bird stopped singing.

  He lunged at me, covering my lips with his dusty fingers.

  “Shh,” he said. “Hopefully he thinks you left.”

  I glared at him but then worried perhaps this bird was dangerous. It seemed so beautiful, but I knew little about birds.

  Until I noticed the cage near the tree trunk, and the net behind him.

  I realized he meant to capture him.

  I grumbled low, and glared at him, pulling back.

  He breathed out fully through his nose. “Don’t even think about it. I found him first.”

  The bird whistled again, slower still.

  Waiting for me.

  I don’t know how I knew, but I felt if singing would keep this bird free from this his cage, I’d do just that. It seemed wrong to capture him.

  I tilted my body to the ground, rolling out from under the branches and leaves hiding me.

  I sang along the way, not as well, but I tried.

  The bird picked up its tempo as I followed along.

  “Don’t!” he seethed, peeking out at me from under the brambles.

  “I’m not going to hurt him. Just stop singing.”

  I sprawled out in the dirt and sang using vowels, “ahs” and “ohs” instead of words, which made following the tune louder than humming.

  The bird sang with me in an ever-growing crescendo.

  “I’ll split the money with you!” he said louder.

  The bird stopped singing at the interruption.

  I paused, turning my head to look at him. “Money? You’re going to sell him?”

  He stuck his head out from the branches. “Don’t you remember me? My name is Ryuu. My father’s a trader. I am, too, now. This is a Shinpi Taka and I can sell him in the city. I’ll give you five silver taels if you’ll let me capture him.” He held out a hand to me, showing me silver coins in his palm. “All you have to do is stop singing.”

  Five taels could have bought rice for a month, and all I had to do was stop singing?

  How much was he worth if I caught him myself? He must have been valuable.

  I got up on my knees, moving away from the willow, away from Ryuu and hummed.

  The bird started up again, guiding me in his singing.

  “Ten taels!” Ryuu said, coming out from the branches to stand. He was a head taller than me, with broad shoulders and a body like an oak tree, thick and strong. He could have held me down, tried to stop me that way, so I walked carefully, keeping an eye on him and putting distance between us.

  This bird must be worth a lot. He was on my land. Why should I let him take it? Again, I sang, and the bird sang along, stronger now.

  Ryuu growled in frustration, shaking his hand enclosed around the coins so they jingled. “Stop singing or...”

  The bird opened its wings and sailed down to me. I froze, thinking it was going to fly to another branch or that he’d scared it off.

  Instead, it came right towards my head, and I cowered, holding my arm over my face to protect it.

  It landed on my elbow. Its body was taller than my head, and its sharp claws pinched at my skin under my clothes. It settled and whistled the tune it had been singing.

  I held still, afraid to move, afraid to sing again. The bird could prick my skin with his sharp claws or bite my nose off. Now what?

  Ryuu rolled his head back, gazing up at the sky. “Mizuki... the money...how could you toss it away?”

  “I didn’t,” I said quietly, afraid to disturb the bird. “Didn’t I catch it?”

  “He’s not worth anything to anyone now,” Ryuu said, picking his head up and coming toward me.

  I backed up into the house wall, with my shoulder and arm lifted awkwardly to keep the bird from getting too close to my face.

  Ryuu focused on the bird, his hand out, but the bird fluffed at the neck and struck out with a quick bite at his finger.

  “Ow,” Ryuu said. He snatched his hand away and stuck his finger in his mouth to suckle the marks the bird had made. “See? They get attached to you when you sing to them. And they only ever attach to one person. He won’t stay w
ith anyone but you now.”

  “Oh,” I said, my neck starting to hurt at the odd angle I was standing in. “Who wants a bird like this?”

  “The emperor would have paid, I’m sure. If not for himself, maybe for a future wife or for one of his court members. Shinpi Takas are rare.” His eyes shifted, looking over the snowy tail, and he moaned. “White being rarer still. If you wanted more money, I could have negotiated. This was the find of the century.”

  “What do I do with him now?” I asked, looking up at the bird. It had silver eyes. Beady. Intelligent. “I can’t keep a bird. I can barely feed myself.”

  “Maybe because you hide in your house. You should get out,” Ryuu said. He turned away from me and crawled under the branches, taking out his cage and net. He held the cage out to me. “Here.”

  “What do I do with that?”

  He showed me how to present my arm so the Taka would sit on my forearm, and how to get it to go into the cage. For someone who just lost money because I was trying to take the bird for myself, he didn’t seem that upset.

  Ryuu secured the door and held the cage for me. “You don’t have to keep him in this all day, but I recommend it at night or when you travel...er, if you ever left home.”

  I imagined everyone thought I was the peasant girl who sat in the crumbling house behind a wall of trees, and I was. What else could I do? And now I had a useless bird.

  Ryuu stood by, looking at me for a long moment. “Your lip looks like a plum.”

  I touched my swollen lip, imagining it purple and blue.

  He smirked and shifted his gaze away to the house before returning it to me. He rubbed his palm against the back of his neck. “You look different. I mean, I only recognized you from your eyes. You don’t see eyes like that out there. Rare.”

  “Is this what you do as a trader?” I asked, feeling warmth at my cheeks at his comments and the fact that he remembered me. “Find rare things?”

  “Rare is valuable,” he said quietly.

  “Please don’t pluck out my eyes to try to sell them.”

  He laughed and then stopped short. “You didn’t think I would, did you?”

  I wasn’t sure what I thought of him. His stocky body and rough hands, and that cunning look, made me think he really had traveled far out into the world. His clothes weren’t noble, but they were nicer than anyone’s in the village. “Do you still live here?”