After waking and relieving himself, Kanden quietly slipped out of Ryker's quarters, not wanting to wake either of the inhabitants. He'd be back to drop off his laundry anyway, and he needed a decent wash.

At the entrance of his family unit, he pressed his ear to the door before turning the handle. Silence. At least his parents weren't arguing. With any luck, Father would be asleep, but Kanden never left things to assumption.

He carefully pushed the door open, wincing at the creaking hinges. When no one emerged from the dark living area or called his name, Kanden tiptoed to his room to retrieve a fresh change of clothes. A small wash basin stood in the far corner — normally reserved for small things like washing his face, but he didn't want to risk waking his parents with the larger washroom. 'Twas a luxury he enjoyed since most units didn't accommodate private hygiene areas as the caverns had been built to house survivors. A communal set of showers had been installed within the nonessential areas, but with water rations, most inhabitants bathed on designated days twice a week. Only the Founding Families and Council members enjoyed the grandeur.

Ryker had once told him about an old history book from the Overland, detailing the divides of the social classes on a ship doomed on its maiden voyage. If the story was to be believed, the powerful had a greater survival rate than the poor, and the living conditions were similar to those here.

Then there were other histories, describing a world of great beauty and nature, but once again, those in power lived in opulent castles while reducing everyone else to small patches of land with little to no rights. Homes could be burned, food snatched from already empty stomachs, and people executed for public entertainment while the tyrants laughed, taunting them with wasted resources and fine clothing.

Some things never seemed to change, no matter the era.

This was also why Kanden didn't like to read his boyfriend's historical and nonfiction novels. Too depressing.

Stripping off his soiled clothes and tossing them into a small heap, Kanden approached the basin and stared at his reflection in the tarnished, cracked mirror. A ghost stared back with pale, washed out skin, chapped lips, and dark circles beneath his blue-gray eyes. The skin around his throat glared in shades of deep purple, encircling most of his neck where Blaze had pressed on the former's windpipe. His black hair hung in matted clumps around his bony shoulders, giving him the appearance of a feral monster in old fairytales.

In short, he looked terrible.

A clipped aloe vera stalk rested on the counter beside a thin metal blade, and Kanden sliced off a small section at the end before cleaning his teeth. The slimy, bitter substance sent a shudder through his body. He brushed faster, and spit the gel into a waste receptacle.

The washing took longer, but once he was reasonably clean in fresh clothing, Kanden scooped up his laundry and grabbed his satchel. He'd be in the conservatory most of the day, helping with the harvest. The crops were often rotated, giving the old soil time to revitalize itself through natural compost and cultivation while the foragers worked elsewhere. This week was the cotton and flax harvest, and the weavers needed every fiber they could get their hands on for new fabric.

Once again, Kanden thought back to Ryker's history books, describing a world of bountiful harvests and stockpiled resources. With everything at the Overland's fingertips, people surely should have been able to halt the ruin that had forced humanity underground. How hard could it be to do the right thing and take care of what they had? Better yet, how did a society of sentient beings manage to kill an entire planet?

Peering into the still empty living room, Kanden rushed outside the family quarters and back to Ryker's home, where Rumi stood in the kitchenette, preparing breakfast. She glanced at him with a smile before resuming her task. "You're up early. I thought you'd still be asleep."

Kanden hung his bag on a hook driven into the stone wall before removing his boots and placing them by the door. He hated walking on the dusty surfaces, but tromping around someone else's front room in shoes seemed rude. Dumping his clothes in a basket sat by the off-kilter sofa, he washed his hands in the sanitary basin before joining Rumi. "Can I help with anything?"

Patting his cheek and kissing his forehead in response, Rumi waved toward a pair of cabinets attached to a small pantry with the stored food. The bags and crates sat half empty — most likely a result of rationing to conserve supplies before this week's distribution. "Grab a set of plates for me, please. I only have time to cook and eat a small meal before I go to wash laundry and help with the cloth production. We're having buckwheat."

Squishy grains that weren't a true grain with no seasoning for breakfast? Yummy. At least I'll be regular.

Kanden kept the sarcasm to himself. Food was food, and he'd learned years ago to force himself to get past the texture. Food was fuel converted to energy, not something for frivolous enjoyment. But someday, maybe, if the Undergrounders made their way topside, Kanden could grow his own private garden and experiment with different flavors that didn't make him retch.

Be grateful, he reminded himself with a mental sigh. At least you're alive. Most importantly, Ryker is okay.

His wishful thinking didn't last long. The moment Rumi heaped the slosh on the plate and Kanden took a bite, the mush lodged itself in his throat. His eyes watered from the effort to push the flavorless concoction down as he tried not to think of how much it reminded him of chewed food forcing its way back up.

Why hadn't he thought to bring a cup of water to the table to wash it down?

Don't complain, don't complain, don't complain. It's food. You're alive. It's... who the hell am I kidding? This should be used as a torture method to draw out confessions.

On cue, a cup appeared beside him as Rumi took the chair across the table and chuckled. "Sorry. I know it's a sensory thing for you. Hopefully, the next ration includes something less bland."

Gods, Kanden adored this woman. She always thought of others, even when things were out of her control.

Downing the water, he swallowed and set his spoon on the plate. Much as he loved his potential future mother-in-law, Kanden couldn't force himself to take another bite. His affection had limits. Regardless, he was grateful she took the time to care. "Guess it's just one more quirk you and Ryker get to deal with," he said with a grin. "You sure you don't want to convince him to run yet?"

Rumi's mouth formed a thin line, and she sighed. "Oh, sweetie, I know your father isn't the kindest person, but I do wish you'd see your worth and stop putting yourself down. Not all parents reject their children."

Yeah, well, not all children came out defective either. More than once, Kanden had noticed the lack of diversity when it came to physical and neurological disorders. In fact, he had never seen anyone born with a deformity and had never met someone with a learning disability that hindered day to day function. He didn't know the exact reason, but he had suspicions and knew with certainty he didn't want to discover the truth. The only question in his mind was 'Why me?'

He shrugged and shifted the mashed glob on his plate with his spoon. "Father reminds me every day I'm a disappointment. I had no friends growing up except Zephyr, Marina, and Ryker. People still shun me. That's gotta mean something, right?"

"No. It means Bastion is an ass who wouldn't know value if it crushed him with the weight of the mountain."

One could hope.

Raising an eyebrow, Rumi's mouth switched at the corners. "Are you going to eat that?"

Dang it.

He nodded, squeezing his eyes shut every time he forced down a bite. By the time he finished, the meal settled into the pit of his stomach like a heavy stone, taunting him with a promise to make him sick in an hour.

When he finished, he gathered the dishes and washed them in the basin before taking a plate to Ryker's room. Over his shoulder, he said, "Thanks for breakfast and the offer to do my laundry."

"Any time, love. Think about what I said, and don't worry about your father. He's not worth the stress."

Easy for her to say. She didn't have a founding legacy to live up to.

Ryker looked up from his bed when Kanden entered, pushing himself into a sitting position with great effort. The moment the plate came into view, his mouth twisted in disgust. "Oh, ew. Please tell me you're not making me eat that."

"If I have to suffer through it, so do you," Kanden replied with a snort, sinking into the chair beside the bed. Rumi could do amazing things with food, but nothing could save their meager rations before distribution day.

Ryker responded by sliding onto his back and rolling over, pulling the tattered blanket over his head. "Toss it into the compost pile," he grumbled. "I'd rather eat dirt."

"And how do you expect to get your strength back if you don't eat?" Kanden asked, poking his boyfriend between the ribs and making him squeal.

Angling his face and lowering the blanket enough for his eyes to peek through his tangled hair, Ryker pleaded with his most pathetic tone. "Can't you swipe something from the greenhouse? I'd risk execution for it."

What a baby. Not that Kanden minded; Ryker deserved to be spoiled. Setting the plate on the nightstand, he whispered all the naughty things he'd do when the latter was better, making the other man groan.

"I hate you," Ryker whined. "You can't just use that against me."

Kanden laughed. "Like you don't? How many times have I been dead asleep when you've woken me up because you're in the mood? And do I complain? Nope."

Ryker rolled his eyes and flopped onto his stomach. "Fine," he said in a muffled voice. "But you owe me. I hate buckwheat."

Removing the blanket, Kanden rubbed Ryker's back and shoulders, kneading the muscles until his boyfriend relaxed with a sigh. Then he worked his way down, massaging the limb creases. His mind still on last night's reveal, Kanden continued to work as he broached the topic again. "I need to ask you about last night."

Ryker stiffened, clutching his pillow and gasping when Kanden reached the spot behind the knees. "Shit, you know how to corner a guy, don't you?" Melting into the latter's touch, he released a heavy breath. "Look, I shouldn't get you involved. I don't have proof, and it's dangerous to ask questions."

Kanden dug his thumbs into Ryker's skin, making him flinch. "So I'm told," he snapped, keeping pressure on Ryker's leg. "I'm not stupid, okay? So don't treat me like I can't take the truth. I'm already involved, and I'm going to find out anyway, come Hell or high water."

"Sheesh, okay! Let go, and I'll tell you!"

Releasing him, Kanden scooted back, waiting for Ryker to shift and face him. Apprehension shined through his dark eyes as he worked his jaw. Finally, he murmured, "I shouldn't have said anything."

"Well, you did, and I want answers," Kanden pressed, propping himself up with his hand on the bed, pinning his boyfriend beneath a pointed stare. "You can trust me."

Ryker reached for his blanket and fidgeted with the frayed edges. As he spoke, he didn't meet Kanden's gaze. "I do trust you. It's your parents and the Council I'm worried about."

Kanden tilted his head, confused by Ryker mentioning parents and not Father. He waited in silence, never tearing his gaze from the other man.

Hanging his head, Ryker picked at a loose thread on the blanket's hem. "I figured it out while I was sick. What do all of these cases have in common?"

Hm, that was a good question, and one Kanden hadn't thought of. He'd been focused on finding the source, not the common denominator. "I'm not good at guessing games."

With a sniff, Ryker smacked his head against the headboard and stared at the ceiling. "Think about it. You're not sick. Neither are your parents or any of the Founding Families." Adjusting himself, he drew his knees to his chest and leaned forward, looping his arms around his legs. "Some of it seemed random at first — middle class families, though mostly lower, but no one in an essential position encountered the illness. A couple in security came into the infirmary, but the rest were all working class members." Then he lifted a finger and added, "And every single one of them were treated in the infirmary. They all died, but I didn't. Why do you think that is?"

Kanden shook his head, refusing to believe what his boyfriend was suggesting. "Bullshit. It has to be coincidence. You're suggesting my mother is involved. She'd never hurt anyone."

She wouldn't. Mother had always protected him. She cared about people. Healing was her chosen profession and attitude before marrying Father. No matter how bad Father was, Mother acted as a buffer and personal hero to those who couldn't speak for themselves. No. Just no.

"I told you I didn't want you involved," Ryker whispered, shaking his head and keeping his gaze downward. "You know her better than I do, but she's hiding something. Whether she's involved or not, she isn't sharing everything with you. I spent days watching everyone die as I went out of my way to find a solution to the illness. How did she come to my rescue so fast? Where was she for everyone else?"

When Kanden opened his mouth to protest, Ryker interjected. "Listen to me. Let's give Ivarra the benefit of the doubt and say she didn't know. I was the only person not treated in the infirmary. Those herbs she used came from you." He pointed at Kanden for emphasis, enunciating each word. "Most of my supply comes from rations, but you went to the conservatory the night I fell ill. Everyone else died after using the rations."

Dizziness washed over Kanden, making him double over before he toppled to the floor. This was too much information in such a short span of time. What had begun as an illness was now morphing into a full blown conspiracy — once he didn't have the mental capacity to process. "I— I don't understand. Who are you even blaming at this point? None of it makes sense. Are you suggesting myself? Mother? Hell, we might as well toss you in as a suspect too since you treated those people!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, keep it down," Ryker snapped. "I love you, but I would never accuse you of something so evil. You're too kind, and no offense, but you're a little naive. And no, I wouldn't be stupid enough to poison myself. But I don't trust either of your parents any more than I believe we'll ever leave this underground cave. They, along with every elected official, are corrupt, and I wouldn't be surprised if all of them constructed an elaborate plan to cull the population."

Poison. Conspiracy. Parents. Council. Naïve. Gods, that line in particular hurt. Ryker didn't mean anything by it; Kanden knew he didn't. The man had literally been at death's door and probably felt like hell. But it did nothing to alleviate the bite in those sharp words. Right, wrong — it didn't matter. The revelations and accusations were too much.

He needed space. From Ryker, his parents, and everyone else. Away from anyone who would treat him like he was stupid because he couldn't grasp things as fast as everyone else. Apart from anyone who would push him away.

Bolting to his feet, he retreated toward the door. Ryker, seeming to realize his mistake, extended his arm. "That came out wrong. I'm sorry. Just listen—"

Kanden shook his head and cleared his throat, edging closer to the exit. "No. I need to walk away for a minute. Clear my head. I'll see you later."

The last sentence caught in his throat like the unpalatable breakfast, and he ran from the room before he could make a fool of himself from yet another emotional meltdown.

Without thinking, he raced through the living room and grabbed his boots, stumbling into them as he hobbled through the outside tunnels. Rumi was nowhere to be found, along with the laundry basket, and Kanden thanked whatever god existed she wasn't present for his latest drama.

Then he rushed through the caverns toward the greenhouse, intent on throwing himself into his work for the day. The answers no longer mattered. Ryker was right about one thing, which was that Kanden shouldn't be involved. And maybe that he wasn't smart enough to comprehend the full scope of all the issues surrounding them. But he couldn't fathom for a single moment Mother would harm another human being. Maybe he'd ask her later once he had a cool head, but not right now.

He didn't make it far before he skittered to a halt, catching himself on one of the corridor's edges and whipping himself back into the shadows as both his parents moved through the center square, speaking in hushed tones with the three remaining Council members as they moved in another direction — toward the private chambers reserved only for elected officials.

Each were too deep in their conversation to notice Kanden's gasp or the pebble skipping along the ground from where he'd accidentally dislodged it from the stone. Soon, they disappeared around another corner, giving Kanden a clear path to the greenhouse. All he has to do was walk to the guarded glass doors and go about his business, but he remained rooted to the spot, watching the retreating figures.

His brain told him to just leave it and go to work, but his body reacted before he could stop himself. Keeping to the outer edges of the walls and within the shadows, he followed the Council members, keeping an eye and ear open for any who would threaten him.