The Gender War Page 13

  Even though the government had placed the blame for that on a woman. And Matrians thought Patrian society was backwards… Well, okay, I’d long since recognized that both societies were backwards as hell. But it was still uncomfortable to think I had been subjected to extra scrutiny simply for being a man.

  Beside me, Violet nodded, parsing the new information. “Desmond would have known the wardens put a tracker on Viggo when he was arrested. So maybe she just took advantage. That sounds like her.”

  I considered these things. I felt better for the conversation—it meant that Desmond and Elena weren’t all-powerful strategists, as I’d almost begun to fear—merely brilliant women with many resources at their command. We could work with that. We could fight against that.

  I stood there for a moment, and then sighed. “Thanks for your input, everyone,” I said. “At least we know that we’ve finally thwarted those plans. Now let’s gather everyone up for a meeting—we need to discuss our next move.”

  Within minutes, the ten of us were gathered in my small living room, every available seat-like space taken up and then some.

  “All right,” I said, clapping my hands together and cutting through the side conversations that were being whispered all around us. “We need to discuss our next steps. This place is not going to be secure for much longer. You can bet that Desmond and Elena haven’t forgotten about us, and they still need the king dead for her plan to be the most effective. So… we need a place to go, and we’re going to need to start collecting supplies—more than just food, but also weapons and vehicles. Thoughts?”

  King Maxen furrowed his brow, smoothing his goatee with a hand. “I’m not sure what to suggest, to be honest. Several of the bombing locations they talked about on the ticker report were clearly targeting my military leaders and advisors, so it’s clear that we can’t rely on them.”

  I was surprised at how his attitude had shifted from intractable to helpful in such a short time, but decided it wasn’t worth it to question it. I looked around the room, focusing on the Liberators.

  “Are there any locations you might have that Desmond might not know about? Maybe Thomas?”

  Owen shook his head. “I haven’t heard from Thomas since we last communicated. It’s… I’m concerned.”

  Amber gave a deep, controlled exhale, her eyes closed for a moment, as though making a decision. “I know a place,” she suddenly said, and I cocked my head.

  “Amber’s from Patrus,” Violet reminded me. My curiosity as to how she could know a place over here must have shown on my face. Violet could read me well.

  “Is it secure?” I asked.

  Amber’s answer was a tight grimace. “Oh, it’s secure,” she responded dryly, sending my hackles up. She must have sensed it, because her grimace deepened. “It’s suited for what you need, it’s just not a place I ever expected to go back to. It’s my mother and father’s house in the countryside. It’s practically a fortress.”

  I wanted to question her more on it, but I could tell that was all she was willing to say. I looked at Violet to gauge her thoughts on the matter, and after a pensive moment, she nodded.

  “All right,” I said. “Let’s take everything we can—food, water, and weapons—then get the hell out of here. Henrik, you’re in charge of covering our tracks—if they come up here to search, we can at least confuse them a little. We’ll figure out the rest when we get there.”

  15

  Violet

  I watched Owen like a hawk as he drove, taking mental notes of everything he did to control the vehicle. I had never driven before, and it was becoming apparent to me that it was another skill I was going to have to learn. The day had clouded over in the early afternoon; the mountains looked wild but peaceful as we rattled and rolled down the narrow lanes toward civilization—or what was left of it. I couldn’t help but feel regret at leaving Viggo’s cabin. It had always felt like a place of safety to me. But maybe if we never looked back, our enemies would overlook it, and it would still be there to welcome us when this whole thing was over. When, not if. I was clinging to Viggo’s optimism.

  Owen, Amber, and I were piled into the cab of the smugglers’ truck. Ms. Dale, Henrik, Quinn, Jay, and the king sat in the back, shaded from view somewhat by the tarp that still covered most of the bed. Samuel snuggled against my lap, and Viggo and Tim rode somewhere behind us, following on Viggo’s motorcycle. He had offered to take me, but I needed to talk to Owen and Amber in depth.

  Besides, I had noticed the way Tim’s eyes had widened in eagerness when he saw the motorcycle. It was hard to think of him as sixteen now, but he was, and I could tell he desperately wanted to ride it. Which was why I had insisted that Viggo take him—and Tim had insisted too, even conveying to me that he could handle sitting next to another person for a whole trip. It was a small sacrifice, worth it all to see my brother’s jubilant smile.

  After we’d driven for about three hours, leaving the mountains and the city behind and finding ourselves in wide, flat farmlands, I could tell by Amber’s terse silence that we were getting closer. That was a concern, but there was a bigger one that had started gnawing at me back at Viggo’s place—namely, the remaining Liberators. They were surely in danger from Desmond—she would either continually use them to further Elena’s aims or just have them killed once they had served their purpose. I needed to know what Amber and Owen’s thoughts were.

  “Hey, Owen?” I asked, breaking the near-silence of the cab. “What are you going to do with the Liberators now?”

  Owen glanced briefly over at me, and then turned his gaze back to the road. “I was wondering when you were going to ask that question,” he said tiredly. “Truthfully, it’s not up to me, and I’m not sure.”

  “Well… have you told them the truth about Desmond?”

  Amber snorted next to me, and I ignored it—I knew she still didn’t fully believe us, and likely wouldn’t unless she saw it for herself. For now, though, she seemed to be helping us, and that would have to be enough.

  “It’s not so easy, Violet,” Owen said. “For one, even if Desmond is out doing secret errands with the queen of Matrus, she’s not going to just let the Liberators run their own operation. To them, nothing has changed, except that Patrus is now undergoing a big regime overhaul—which is one of our… ah, their ultimate goals. Desmond is still completely involved with the Liberators, have no doubt… and they’re still willing to follow her commands.”

  He must have seen me open my mouth, unconvinced by his argument, because he sighed and continued. “That loyalty won’t be easily broken. Even if we tell them what she did, not everybody will believe us… and not everybody will care. Desmond personally recruited most of us—we all have some sort of relationship with her. She’s changed a lot of their lives for the better.”

  I frowned and shook my head. “But you know that once Desmond finishes with them, she’ll likely have them all killed, right? She can’t let anyone live who can link the pieces of this together.”

  Owen looked pointedly at Amber. “She might not even need to send somebody to kill them if she sends them all out on suicide missions. I probably would have died in that bombing… Did she give you guys a backup plan if you succeeded in killing the king? Or did she just leave you to fend off the entire king’s guard, just the three of you?”

  “It would have been worth it—if we could change how things are run in this rotten country,” Amber said simply, then crossed her arms, turning to gaze out at the passing farms. We were deep into the farmlands now, and I hadn’t seen this much produce in a very long time. I hadn’t even known that corn grew on stalks taller than a man—a discovery that surprised me in a good way, even though the topics we discussed were so heavy.

  Owen turned back to the road, shaking his head in the face of Amber’s stubbornness and addressing me again. “I wish I could go back and help them, Violet. I wish I knew that the rest of them would be safe, that there was another way for them to fix society. But I can’t s
ee how it will work. None of them will even believe us anymore, probably. I doubt that Desmond has forgotten to tell them about me… defecting. I know how she works. She could have ordered me killed on sight as a traitor. And even if I wanted to take my chances… she still has Ian.”

  Owen’s voice had fallen into deep sadness, his face portraying how trapped he felt. It took me a moment to figure out that Ian was his brother, one of the boys who had been taken from a Matrian family. Just like Tim… I remembered Owen had mentioned it, but he hadn’t used his brother’s name before. I wondered if all this had gone through his mind when he’d decided to join us instead of run back to the Liberators from the Matrian palace.

  “Owen,” I said softly. “I’m so sorry.” I had my own brother here with me; Owen hadn’t been able to save his. When I’d lost my brother, I’d been willing to do just about anything to save him. The thought woke a dark anger in me. “We’ll find a way to get Ian back,” I told Owen. “I don’t know how yet, but we’ll do it. And we’ll do it the right way. We won’t make compromises with Desmond… We’ll just have to beat her.”

  Owen’s expression was ashen as he looked out at the road, not saying anything for a moment. Then he looked at me. “Thanks, Violet,” he said, swallowing. “If anyone can do it, you can.”

  His confidence warmed me. I felt a little bit better for making the promise, even if I had no idea how to go about it yet.

  In between me and Owen, Amber had turned sullenly silent. She seemed unaffected by the emotions passing between us, and I watched her sadly. I disagreed with her, but she was my friend too, and I wished she wouldn’t be so closed off. Since she clearly wouldn’t talk any more about this subject, I tried a different one.

  “So, what can you tell us about where we’re going?” I asked her.

  Amber sighed and lifted her legs, placing her boots on the dashboard and sinking deeper in the seat. “It’s a large estate, guarded by built-in automated defenses. It will have provisions and space. If the perimeter is breached it will be hard to defend outside of the house, but the inside has defenses. A small, armed unit could theoretically hold it for days.”

  It sounded impressive—exactly what we were looking for, actually—but I had been hoping for something a little more personal from her. After all, Amber was in an odd situation, Patrian-born but fighting for the Liberators, which consisted mostly of families who’d had their sons or brothers taken from them by the Matrian government. I knew only a little about her history—that her father had tried to give her to another man—and wasn’t sure that explained the full extent of her reluctance to go home.

  “What about our reception?” I asked, but Amber’s only response was to give me a stony look, and then turn back to the window.

  All right then. I’d tried, at least, but it was clear she wasn’t going to say more. I had to trust that she would tell us if the situation were dangerous. Otherwise, I was going to be incredibly pissed at her—especially if she held back details that got someone hurt or killed.

  I turned my gaze to the road rolling by, and let my mind drift to the topic of the larger problem we were facing. Namely, how to undermine Desmond and Elena’s plans. We had already dealt them a blow by saving the king. Raising a rebellion for him was something I left to Ms. Dale and Viggo—I had no idea how to recruit people, and I trusted their guidance on how to proceed.

  Yet with the hanging threat of the Matrians using the boys to fight through Desmond’s control over them, I couldn’t imagine it would be a straightforward battle. There was no way Ms. Dale, Viggo, or I would want to bring any harm to those boys. They were victims of a carefully planned deception. Who knew all the lies Desmond was filling their heads with, fueled by the Benuxupane that tempered their moods?

  My mind circled around that. Whether it was by design or accidental side effect, Benuxupane did make the user more complacent as well as less emotional. I knew from personal experience. After all, Lee had used it on me when I had resisted his plan to frame Viggo. Which meant that the boys on Benuxupane would be much easier to turn into human weapons.

  Which meant we needed to try to find the drug, all of it… and destroy it. That would effectively stop regular dosing, and if we could slow down or stop the drug’s manufacture, it would give the boys a fighting chance to at least decide for themselves where their loyalties lay. Which meant we needed to find out where the Benuxupane was being stored and where it was being made.

  Of course, this meant we needed Thomas. His hacking skills made him essential for this mission to even have a chance of success. I looked at Owen.

  “Hey, you still haven’t heard from Thomas yet?” I asked.

  Owen shook his head, his attention on the road. “Not yet. I’m getting really worried, Violet. I know he thinks it’s almost impossible to get to us, and he hates taking action that will risk his own life, but he’s risking his life just by staying there. Desmond or the Patrians will find him while they’re investigating the bombings, and either way it’ll be bad.” He considered this for a moment, and then his eyes widened. “I wonder if she wants to frame him,” he said.

  I nodded. “The next time he calls, you should—”

  I paused as a high-pitched beeping sound blared through the cab.

  “It’s the handheld!” Owen said, and he reached into his pocket, pulling it out. “Speak of the devil.” His eyes flicked over the screen long enough to see the name. “Can you take this?”

  I was dubious as I accepted the handheld—Thomas and I did not have the best of relationships. Still, better me than Owen while he was driving. I carefully held the rather unfamiliar device in my left hand, and Amber came out of her sullen stillness to help me hit the button on the screen, connecting us.

  “Owen, I—” came Thomas’ nasal voice over the line, followed by a pause as the video feeds synced up. “Oh, it’s you. Where’s Owen?”

  His devotion to the blond man clearly made me pale in comparison, but that was okay by me. I tilted the small lens toward Owen. “He’s driving, but he can hear you,” I said. “Go ahead.”

  “You were right,” Thomas practically wailed. “The fires in the warehouse district have gotten out of control, and in several sectors, the motion sensors I placed in the surrounding tunnels have been going off. At this point it’s only a matter of time until they find me!”

  Owen gritted his teeth and nodded tightly—not that Thomas could see. I answered for him. “Time to get out,” I announced. “Do you have an evacuation plan?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I have a vehicle stashed away in one of the neighborhoods in town. I can access it by the tunnels. I’ll wipe all the hard drives and head out.”

  I frowned and looked at Owen to see what he felt about all this. “What about Solomon?”

  “What about him?” Thomas replied defensively, and I took in a breath, concerned.

  “Thomas, you can’t leave him behind,” I said sternly. “He’s a member of our team, even if he’s not in his right mind, and we don’t leave each other behind.”

  “He’s a liability right now,” Thomas said plaintively. “It’s going to be hard enough getting myself out of this mess. Adding another body, my chances go down to—”

  I gritted my teeth. “This isn’t about equations and numbers, Thomas. This is about people.”

  Owen looked at me, his worry plain on his face, then shot a pleading look at Amber. I gave her the handheld, and she cut through Thomas’ blustering response.

  “Tom-Tom, please? Solomon could get better anytime—and he’d be useful to you in case somebody threatened you. Plus, things might get even worse if he were found by the regime. They could find a way to cure him, then torture him to find out what he knows… you never know! And come on,” she added, “we don’t want to hear that you died in a sewer like a rat.”

  It sounded callous, but I could sense the concern in Amber’s voice. And maybe some gallows humor was what Thomas needed to hear, because his blustering changed tone slightly. I c
ouldn’t quite tell, but I thought it was working.

  I took the handheld back again, pressing further. “You worked with Solomon for a long time, Thomas, right? You know that if things were different, Solomon would do the same thing for you. And so would we.” I swallowed my pride. “We need you, Thomas. But we can’t leave Solomon behind. That would make us no better than the Patrians you hate,” I finished.

  Thomas’ voice sounded surly, and I got the impression he was staring at the floor, not meeting my gaze. “That’s an argument based on sentiment, not on reason,” he said. “I find it distinctly unhelpful. However, if that’s what it takes to secure me a position within the safety of the group—and I can see that logic doesn’t sway you all—I suppose I can conform to the social norms… again. And there is the matter of him being used as a tactical weapon against us…”

  Was that a concession? It was hard to tell through Thomas’ odd speech, but I thought it was. He wanted to talk to Amber again, and I happily gave her the handheld.

  I turned back to the road, pleased that he’d agreed but frustrated that it had taken this amount of convincing. Working with Thomas was hard because he didn’t seem to have an ounce of concern for anyone but himself, and maybe Owen. It was going to be interesting to see what would happen if Thomas met Viggo.

  At least the conversation had broken Amber out of her silence. She spent the better part of the next fifteen minutes soothing Thomas and continuing to build a plan with him. Despite her reticence about Desmond, I noticed that she seemed to care just as much about Solomon’s fate as I did.

  Ending the call, she gave the handheld back to Owen. “Turn left at the next road,” she said, and Owen nodded.

  We took the left, and drove for fifteen minutes through empty fields that had recently been harvested. The gray clouds hanging in the sky gave the whole thing a strangely desolate look—or maybe that was just the mood I was in.