The Gender Fall Page 14

  “What?” exclaimed Violet. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why wouldn’t they stick with the Daughters of Patrus as a scapegoat? Or even point a finger at me?”

  “That does seem like it would be easier…” I agreed.

  “Well, perhaps identifying a single individual wouldn’t help them maintain a state of fear, but other than that, I really don’t know,” Jeff responded, clearly also baffled by the news. “The only thing I can think of is they couldn’t fabricate a good enough reason. The Daughters are touted as a pro-female-rule organization, and with the news that Princess Tabitha was to assume control with Chancellor Dobin by her side… Well, maybe they thought it likely that the Daughters would approve of a female ruler.” He gave a shrug, but by the look on his face, he thought it was a bit of a stretch as well.

  I thought about it. Maybe the bad cover story was good news—it showed Elena was grasping at straws to maintain control over the population. Then again, this new terror threat only added to the level of fear among the populace. They had been used to hearing about the Porteque gang in the past, and now, with two terrorist groups, public demand for the violence to end would be high. Any actions Elena took to eradicate them on behalf of the people of Patrus would be considered a great win, and at least the Porteque gang was a real target for her to show off her firepower.

  “What’s the last bit of information?” Violet asked, leaning forward.

  Jeff smiled then, genuinely. “Matrus is having a day of mourning for the death of Princess Tabitha. It was revealed that she did die in the palace, along with several key advisors—both Matrian and Patrian—and Chancellor Dobin.”

  “So Dobin was in the palace?” Violet asked.

  Jeff nodded. “Apparently, he was in a portion that collapsed. They recovered his body early on, but with all the dead… it took a while to identify him.”

  Violet’s face fell, and I recognized immediately that the news wasn’t as uplifting to her as maybe it should have been. But I couldn’t blame her. A lot of people had died during her attack on the palace. I knew she hadn’t wanted them to; I also knew that if Tabitha had accepted Violet’s deal, nobody—not even Tabitha herself—would’ve died. I reached out and took her hand in mine, knowing she needed the reassurance.

  “Thank you, Jeff,” I said. “But how are the people taking this news? There’s gotta be some concern that with no leaders readily available, the Matrians are trying to seize control, and I know the people of Patrus won’t accept that lying down.”

  “I’m glad you asked. The follow-up to that announcement was that Elena is asking for there to be a general election of a leader to represent the country’s interest during this time. The message remains the same—the Matrians are only here to help restore order, not to assume control.”

  I exhaled. “And in the meantime, while we’re waiting for the election to take place, Elena’s in charge.”

  “She’s making a show of working within the Patrian legal system, but refuses to execute women in cases where they would traditionally be executed while men would not—the only exception being the women who have been accused of being part of the Daughters of Patrus. Nobody is making a fuss about her refusal, though, because at least looters and criminals are being caught and held accountable. It’s gaining her a lot of support, to be honest.”

  I nodded. “Thanks, Jeff, I think that’s all I have to ask. Someone will contact you tomorrow. How does six o’clock sound?”

  “It sounds good. See you then.”

  I clicked off the handheld, ending the call, and turned to Violet. “Thoughts?”

  “Will Jeff have a problem getting registered?”

  I shook my head. “He shouldn’t, but I might encourage him to find an alternate identity, in case Ashabee has dropped his name.”

  “Have we heard anything about Ashabee?”

  “No, nothing since he was taken to the palace. It could’ve been that he was in the palace when everything went down, but he also could’ve been anywhere. To be honest, I’m not sure we’ll ever know what happened to him.”

  She nodded and swallowed. “Elena’s certainly good at manipulating the people. She’s trying to respect their laws and keeps encouraging them to take control over their own land. Maybe eventually they’ll just vote to have her assume command, especially if their leaders keep getting murdered.”

  I didn’t agree, but it wasn’t a farfetched conclusion to draw, especially for someone who still only had a limited understanding of Patrus. I could see why she would think that: with Elena manufacturing or capitalizing on the disasters, assigning blame to a familiar enemy, and promising results, she was giving the people an idea to rally behind, the idea that they could trust and rely on her. Still, the inferiority of women wasn’t just an idea to Patrians—it was a hard-held belief. I didn’t think that was going to change soon enough for the people to ever vote Elena into power, definitely not in her lifetime.

  Either way we looked at it, it wasn’t looking good. But I had to admit I was still hopeful. With the video, we had a starting point to create our own propaganda, and hopefully turn the tide against Elena.

  I looked up and smiled, drawn out of my thoughts, as I saw the familiar form of Ms. Dale heading toward us. I nudged Violet and raised a hand in greeting.

  18

  Violet

  Viggo and I watched Ms. Dale approach, her feet tearing through the soft grass, heading up the little hill toward the tree we sat beneath. I started to rise, but she motioned me to stop with an imperious wave of her hand. “Don’t bother getting up on my account,” she announced. “Right now it’s much easier for me to come down to you.”

  Smiling in bemusement, I complied, remaining seated as Ms. Dale dropped down on one knee and gave me a quick, gentle hug. I hugged my former mentor back, relieved to see she was all right, in spite of the chaos of the last few days. “Hey, Ms. Dale,” I said fondly, and she squeezed me slightly, still taking care not to upset my injuries.

  Afterward, she leaned back, her hands in her lap, and studied my face closely, tsking under her breath as she took in the still livid bruising on the side of my face. The swelling around my eye had gone down, but other than that, the bruises remained, turning interesting shades of purple and green. Ms. Dale’s hand stretched out, and she gently took my chin between her fingers and turned it slightly so she could get a better look.

  “You brave, sweet girl,” she murmured under her breath, and I resisted the urge to both beam with pride and flush with embarrassment.

  “It’s nothing,” I insisted, gently removing her hand. “The worst is over.”

  She nodded, but her face reflected her doubt. “I’m sorry I didn’t pop by sooner to check on you. I did while you were… um…”

  “Unconscious?” I suggested, giving her a little smile, and she nodded.

  “Yeah. But the past thirty-six hours have been a little hectic, what with the scouts returning from the refugee camp Thomas located, and coordinating with Viggo and Owen regarding the plans for tonight.”

  I cast a glance over at Viggo and raised an eyebrow. “The plans for tonight? Oh, really?”

  Ms. Dale picked up on my tone and speared Viggo with a look of her own. “He didn’t tell you.”

  Viggo idly picked at a blade of grass and gave a shrug. “I just haven’t had a chance to yet.” I studied him closely and then smiled.

  “I’m sure he was going to tell me, he just hadn’t gotten to it yet,” I said dryly, winking when he shot me an indignant glance. I was rewarded by the sight of his face melting, and he shook his head and leaned back on the palms of his hands, clearly bemused. I turned back to Ms. Dale, confident I would get the plans for tonight out of Viggo at some point soon.

  “How goes training of the new recruits?” I asked, curious.

  Ms. Dale gave a huff and crossed her arms. “About as well as can be expected, I suppose. I can’t speak too highly of them yet, but we’ll get them there. Some of them—the women, of course—have
taken to guns like birds to flight, so there’s some hope.” She gave Viggo a sly look, and he rolled his eyes at her.

  “Well, not all birds can fly, so…” He trailed off, and I had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing as Ms. Dale’s amusement soured. I always loved it when Ms. Dale and Viggo teased each other. At first it had been truly hostile, but now it was just quintessentially them. It was reassuring to see some things never changed.

  I ran my left hand over the springy grass, turning back to Ms. Dale, who was staring at my face again, and frowned—was that a glimmer of guilt in her eyes? That was weird. Why would she feel guilty looking at my face? It must have been some sense of responsibility. Maybe, as my former martial arts teacher, she felt responsible for my having lost the fight with Tabitha so badly. Well, technically I’d won in the end…

  The expression I was pondering was gone in an instant, as Ms. Dale’s face returned to its normal impassive state.

  “On that note, I have to get back to preparations,” she said, standing up. “Viggo, I will see you tonight.”

  Viggo inclined his head in wordless acknowledgement, and I leaned back onto the trunk of the tree behind us as Ms. Dale moved off to other parts of the camp. My thoughts drifted to Tim, and I felt a deep ache in my heart. Still no word, no sign, no intercepted report… nothing. That was really why I would have agreed to anything to get out of bed. When I wasn’t sleeping, my brother was always on my mind; even when I slept, my dreams were troubled, his voice and his face making appearances in places that had nothing to do with him. Doing something else—anything else—was the only way to keep the worry from becoming impatience and making me want to do something drastic.

  Viggo’s arm dropped over my shoulder, and I looked up at him, shaking off the dire thoughts. His mouth was pressed into a thin line. “Tim?” he asked. I nodded, and he tugged me closer, holding me tight.

  “We’ll find him,” Viggo breathed against my forehead. I nodded again, but the doubt still lurked in my mind, racing over the dozens of possible outcomes, none of them good. “Actually, we have a bit of a lead…”

  A grin formed on my lips as I put two and two together and cast a gaze up at him. “You mean… Does it have something to do with your mysterious mission tonight?”

  Viggo nodded, and I straightened slightly, brushing invisible lint off the pants I was wearing. They were borrowed—probably outfits recovered from Ashabee’s manor, or donated by some of the refugees—and a bit large, but serviceable. “Spill.”

  He chuckled and began explaining the camp Thomas had found, the one where the Matrians were shipping most, if not all, Patrian males. “They will have records,” he said. “Possibly even computers we can hack into.” He hesitated, meeting my gaze with a wary flick of his eyes. “I’m hoping we might find some sign of Tim… If he’s been picked up, they might have taken him there.”

  I fidgeted as a sliver of hope threaded its way into my heart. I sternly reminded myself there were no guarantees. Viggo reached over and took my hand, squeezing it gently. We sat there for a few minutes, Viggo comforting me while I fretted, worried about what they might find at this camp—and, even worse, what they might not.

  I was so deep into my musings that when Viggo spoke again, it took a moment to register. “Look who’s over there…”

  He pointed, and I followed the direction of his finger, my eyes finding a man standing a fair distance away, near a group of people standing in line by the shooting range set up some ways behind the barn. He was peering directly at us. Even at this distance, it took me less than a second to identify Cad, and I straightened, self-consciously tugging my cap down over my bald head. Cad seemed to realize it was me, and gave a little whoop, loping over toward us.

  This time I did try to stand, using the tree and Viggo for help, and was on my feet by the time my cousin reached us. “Violet!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms open wide. I stepped gingerly into them, just relieved to see him, and he hugged me extra gently, his arms barely brushing my healing ribs. We held each other like that for a moment, and he pecked me on my forehead. “I’m so happy to see you up,” he whispered.

  “Me too,” I whispered back, releasing him. He stepped away, and I saw his eyes were brimming with gratitude.

  “Violet, seriously, words can’t even express how grateful I am to you for what you did for my family,” he gushed, and I looked away, embarrassed by the praise. “I mean, I don’t know if I ever could’ve done what you did for us. What you sacrificed for us.”

  I frowned, thinking of my brother, and then shook my head. “That’s not true,” I reminded him softly. “You already did—you went back to the palace and went searching for Tim. I can’t even tell you how much I appreciate that.”

  Cad rubbed the back of his head awkwardly and gave me a sad smile. “I just wish I had found him,” he replied.

  I wanted to say “me too” again, but I didn’t. Cad already knew that—and, obviously, he didn’t need to be reminded of his failure. The two of us stood awkwardly, uncertain what to say next. The sound of gunfire punctuated the moment, and I looked over at the range, watching Ms. Dale marching up and down the line of trainees, before looking back to Cad.

  “So… how’s training?” I asked, fumbling for a conversation topic.

  “Eh. So-so. I’m not so good with a gun, but my wife…” He trailed off, his eyes going wide. He looked around for a second, and then held up a finger. “Hold that thought—I’ll be right back.”

  I watched as he raced back toward the group on the range, and exchanged baffled looks with Viggo, who shrugged. Cad approached a woman in the firing line, and, when she put her gun down, tapped her shoulder and began speaking to her, his hands gesticulating wildly. After a moment, the woman smiled and nodded.

  “Looks like you’re about to meet the family,” announced Viggo from beside me, and I felt my eyes growing wide.

  “Right now?”

  Viggo chuckled and nodded. “Right now,” he agreed.

  I fidgeted, smoothing my hands over my clothes, suddenly stupidly self-conscious. I felt Viggo’s eyes on me. “They’re going to love you,” he said. “Especially after what you did for them.”

  My expression soured. “Just because I saved their lives doesn’t mean they’re obligated to love me,” I muttered.

  “Why not? It worked for me.”

  I squinted at him. “Didn’t you save my life first?”

  “Case in point,” he teased, nodding his head toward the unfolding scene. It took a few minutes for Cad and his wife to trudge around behind the house, out of our view. Then they reappeared and headed toward our little hill, now followed by two children and a shaggy brown dog.

  “Is that Samuel?” I asked incredulously, glad that in all the chaos, the dog hadn’t been left behind.

  “Yeah,” Viggo said, smiling a little at my astonishment. “It’s funny, actually. There’s kind of a little refugee daycare going on—especially with the parents training all the time at the firing range—and the kids all love Samuel, so now they’re looking after him, too.”

  Come to think of it, it was odd seeing Cad’s children here; it was strange they were only a few minutes away while their parents trained for war. Knowing they were playing in the house’s backyard, being monitored by one of the refugees, comforted me.

  “Violet,” Cad said when they reached us, while Samuel ran up to Viggo and attempted to jump on his knees, “I want you to meet my wife, Margot, and our children, Alice and Henry. Everyone, this is Violet, our cousin.”

  I felt myself smiling naturally as I took in the taller woman. She was almost Cad’s exact height, statuesque, with warm brown skin and deep brown, almost black, eyes. The corners of her full mouth held smile lines. Her round face was framed by black, curly hair tied under a blue kerchief. I had seen her picture before, but it had barely been able to capture her radiant beauty.

  “Hello,” I said softly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  Henry, the little boy hidi
ng in Margot’s skirts, smiled shyly, then hid his face, while Alice peered at me from behind the small fist she held up against her mouth, sucking her thumb. I waved, and she blushed, looking away, absently putting a hand on Samuel as he pushed his nose into her shoulder.

  “Violet!” Margot exclaimed, taking my left hand in hers and squeezing. “I’m so happy to see you doing well, all things considered. By the look of your face, you really went through the wringer for us, and I can’t even begin to tell you how grateful we are. That Princess Tabitha was a real piece of work, right? Can’t say I’m sorry to hear she died—served her right. What kind of a monster kidnaps an entire family—even two innocent children?” She paused only for a moment before continuing with the answer to her own question. “The evil kind, if you don’t mind me speaking out of turn. Ugh, if she were here, I’d claw out her bloody eyes for scaring my babies—God, and for hurting you.”

  I smiled as Margot spoke, barely taking a moment to draw in a breath. Cad gazed at her while she talked, his eyes warm with affection, and I could feel the love radiating from him. He caught my gaze and winked. “Isn’t she wonderful?” he said.

  “Absolutely,” I agreed with a smile, and Margot’s cheeks grew dark with a blush. I realized she had been nervous too, and that comforted me. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but… are you sure you were raised in Patrus?” I asked.

  Margot laughed heartily. “You mean ‘cause I talk so much? Well, my father was convinced I’d never get married because of it, but I can’t help it. I seem to lack that filter between thought and mouth sometimes. I was pretty certain he was right, but then this one came along, and for some reason, he couldn’t get enough. At first I figured he was just another jerk with ideas about ‘taming’ me or some other kind of nonsense they like to go on about, but he persisted.”

  “Couldn’t your father have just married you to him without your approval anyway?”

  Margot gave me a knowing smile. “Yeah, he would have, too, ‘cept Cad wouldn’t tell him he was interested until I agreed. That’s when I started realizing he was sincere.”