The Gender Game 2 Read online

  A few wardens had walked past me since I’d arrived, but all had refused to answer a single question—except for one of the younger recruits whose name I had forgotten, but who I knew saw me as a role model. If not for him, I’d be completely without information even now. He gave me the current body count: The bombing had killed thirty-two people in the initial blast. Of the remaining survivors, most had been critically injured. Another ten had died from the severity of their wounds. The king, however, had escaped relatively unscathed.

  The lad didn’t know why I was being detained, and as for Violet… he had no idea.

  So, I had no choice but to wait, though it was excruciating. It was the not knowing that was the worst. I would almost rather learn that Violet was dead than sit there wondering, hoping. I had no idea where in the building she had been when the blast went off—if she was anywhere near the events hall, chances were that she didn’t make it. It was a wonder that the king got out alive, and that was with bodyguards assigned and trained to protect him—he rarely went anywhere without at least two of them.

  A hollow feeling settled in the base of my stomach. The brief period that I’d known Violet had been a whirlwind. The evening Lee brought her to my cabin and requested for me to be her second guardian, I’d suspected I might be getting myself into more than I was willing. Violet was clearly a free-spirited and strong-minded young woman, but I never could have predicted that things would go so far so quickly, spiral so… out of control.

  I still wasn’t sure how I could have let that kiss happen between us. I replayed that fateful night over in my head, as I had done dozens of times since. Her hair and clothes wet and clinging to her lithe body, she’d stood in my living room just a couple of feet in front of me. Her dusky eyes had flicked to my face and before I could react, her arms had slid over my shoulders, her soft lips locking with mine. Then she’d pulled herself against me—I relived every detail now: the way her chest pressed to mine; her harried breathing; her damp-pinewood scent; the quiet moan that had escaped her throat when I had closed my lips around hers, no longer physically capable of containing the passion coursing through my veins. Every part of me had burned for her that night, and if her husband hadn’t interrupted when he had, I knew that Violet and I would have done something we’d later regret.

  That woman had awakened things in me I’d long thought I’d lost—emotions and impulses that I hadn’t felt since Miriam. She had reminded me what it was like to feel connected to another human being; to discover a kindred spirit in a world of meaningless interactions. Violet had made me break the single rule I was professionally trained to live by—never drop your guard.

  As painful as it was, I’d done the right thing by telling her that we needed to cut things off after that night. I wasn’t one to make a cuckold out of any man—though I couldn’t deny that a part of me had still hoped I’d be able to see her from time to time, even if we couldn’t be alone together. Spotting her in the audience at a fight or visiting the lab with her husband would have done something to brighten my day, relive the few memories of what we’d once shared.

  But now… now, in all likelihood, Violet was dead.

  I wasn’t sure where that left me.

  Hollow, yes. Hollow and numb. That was what I felt now. However else her death would manifest in me would be apparent soon enough, once the shock of the attack had worn off. My brain still felt shaken from the blast.

  Finally, the door to my room opened and a flint-eyed warden stepped in. I didn’t recognize him, which likely meant he wasn’t going to answer my questions. He slipped a key in the door, keeping his eyes on me.

  “Viggo Croft,” he said. “Come with me.”

  “Where?” I asked, standing up. At my full height, I towered over the man.

  He looked a touch intimidated as he eyed me over, but said nothing—he just held out his hand toward the door. Acquiescing, I strode forward.

  The warden guided me along an empty hallway and into another room, which held a table and chair. He sat me down and released my cuffs, allowing me to rub my wrists and lean back.

  “What is this about?” I demanded, my eyes trained on him. He still didn’t answer. Instead, he turned and left the room. But I was alone for only a few seconds before the door opened again.

  By now, I felt ready to snap at whoever it was, but as the visitor stepped inside, my voice caught in my throat. It was King Maxen, clad in a deep burgundy suit. His jaw-length hair and goatee were singed, his skin perceptibly red. He gazing at me, his face contemplative and unreadable.

  “Your Majesty,” I murmured.

  He inclined his head, his gaze never leaving mine. “Mr. Croft.”

  The last time I had seen the king face-to-face was when I had been brought before King Maxen and his father, King Patrick, for sentencing after my failed attempt to cover up Miriam’s crime. King Patrick had ordered me to work as a warden for four years without pay. I wasn’t sure why King Maxen had come to see me now; I couldn’t help but find his appearance ominous.

  He moved over to the opposite chair and sat down, his posture betraying his exhaustion.

  “The last twenty-four hours have been that of pure chaos, Mr. Croft,” the king said, placing a folder onto the table. I looked down at it, then back up at him.

  “I saw the damage,” I replied hoarsely. “Who did this?”

  The king tapped his fingers on the table. “Well, apparently, there are some who would have us believe that you are responsible.”

  I stared at him, half-believing that I’d misheard. “What?”

  The king waved his hand. “No need to be concerned—we know now that you weren’t. It just took us the better part of a day to realize that you were being framed… It seems that the culprits used your history against you to make it seem like your dissatisfaction with the government had brought you to a tipping point. But these terrorists got sloppy toward the end, and we were able to determine who they actually were.”

  My hands clenched as I leaned forward. “Who?”

  “Lee and Violet Bertrand.”

  I froze, my mind unable to comprehend his words, much less accept them. “What?” I fought the urge to protest under the stern eye of the king, but the words were already forming on the tip of my tongue.

  The king nodded and pushed the file in my direction. “It seems that Lee and Violet were originally sent here by Matrus, in order to steal something significant to our research. They succeeded in stealing the object. However, it turns out that one of them was even more radical than we thought—Mrs. Bertrand. It appears that, after completing the attack with her husband, she murdered not only him, but also Queen Rina and one of her advisors.”

  My mouth dried out. This can’t be real. “Your Majesty,” I managed, “Violet wouldn’t do that. She’s not—”

  The king arched an eyebrow. “Yes, we discovered what an adept little actress Mrs. Bertrand is. She had everyone fooled, including you; we have recovered documents about her true nature that are a little hard to ignore.” He glanced at the file. “I’ll give you a few minutes to take a look, shall I?”

  He stood up, his chair scraping across the floor, and walked out. For a minute, I simply stared at the file, my brain still unable to accept the king’s assertion. It wasn’t possible. Violet was… not that person.

  My mind suddenly flashed to the memory of her covered in the blood of the Porteque man, after she’d stabbed him to death. She had a tendency toward violence—that much I couldn’t deny. But…

  My hands snatched up the folder and ripped it open.

  Inside, I found an assortment of files and pictures. Violet… she was not a bakery girl, like she’d said. She had been in prison for the last five years and had murdered two females. The file even included pictures of her victims. It was… gruesome, to say the least. Her first arrest had come from attempting to smuggle her brother out of Matrus and into Patrus because he had failed the screening test. It seemed that after that, she’d snapped.

>   I sat back, a bitter seed growing inside me. I wanted to deny the information in front of me. I searched through the file again, looking for any indication that it had been fabricated. I couldn’t believe that Violet was responsible for all the death and carnage I had seen back at the lab. Yet the evidence didn’t change, no matter how much I tried to will it to.

  The door opened as King Maxen let himself back in, breaking me out of my thoughts. He sat down across from me. “Her history isn’t pretty, is it?”

  I was still struggling to process the information. It felt like I’d been hit by a ton of bricks. My brain moved slowly, unwillingly, toward the logical conclusion of these files. I shook my head. “No,” I rasped.

  “She fooled everyone, Mr. Croft. Not just you, but even that partner of hers. She used him to get what she wanted and then killed him without a second thought.”

  I nodded wordlessly, unable to speak. King Maxen allowed me a few more moments as I gazed down at the files again. Then, slowly, an icy grip began to coil around my heart, squeezing painfully tight. I could no longer deny that this was reality. The proof was before my very eyes.

  The Violet I knew was a lie.

  And there I had been, just minutes ago, mourning her death. Hell, I had walked through fire haplessly, pathetically, trying to find her.

  She was alive. Escaped, and alive.

  Rage and betrayal stabbed at me. I felt like an utter fool.

  Her so-called innocence had been a lie meant to seduce me. She’d even kissed me, wrapped her body around mine like she was drowning… all lies.

  My hands balled into fists.

  “What is your plan?” I grated out.

  The king made a show of collecting the papers, tapping them together until they were neatly stacked, and then placed them back into the file. I waited stiffly.

  “I want you to find her,” the king said finally.

  I nodded slowly, even as I swallowed hard. It made sense to send me, I supposed. I’d had the most contact with her, and was also the best suited to track her down.

  “And what do I do once I find her?” I asked.

  The king gazed at me, his eyes hard and flat. “Your priority is securing this.” He set a photo in front of me which depicted a silver egg. “This is integral for the continued survival of our society.”

  Internally, I seethed with suspicion and doubt. I couldn’t care less about the rhetoric and propaganda: I knew the dark underside of Patrian life, and I wasn’t about to be bought off with pretty lies. But in this moment, I couldn’t bring myself to care— Violet and her betrayal were all that occupied my mind.

  “I cannot stress the egg’s importance enough,” the king continued. “If it is lost, or if Matrus gets their hands on it, we will not be able to stand against them in the future… if it ever came to war.”

  The king’s dark tone made me stare at him. I couldn’t miss the solemnity in his worn face.

  “Again,” I said, “what do you want me to do with the girl?”

  King Maxen leaned back. “If you can secure her and bring her back to Patrus for questioning, that is preferable. But if you cannot… kill her.”

  Something in my chest rebelled at the thought. The thought of killing Violet was foreign and awakened feelings I wasn’t ready to process, so I pushed it down and nodded.

  With that, the king rose and so did I, bowing before him.

  “This will be a difficult task, Mr. Croft,” he said. “But if you succeed and return the egg, you will be reinstated to your full position of Chief Coordinator of wardens, with pay intact—that will be the least the kingdom can do for your continued loyal service.”

  As if any of that even mattered to me anymore.

  I didn’t know what did matter right now—all I could think about was the immediate task ahead of me.

  After watching the king leave the room, I glanced at the mirrored glass on the opposite side of the conference table, at the man who might soon have to kill a woman for her crimes.

  In spite of all Violet’s wrongdoings, somehow I couldn’t quite meet my own gaze.

  2

  Violet

  I shivered as the cool air blew past and drew my dress tighter around me. The motorcycle had been traveling steadily north for the past few hours, and I had been afraid to fiddle with any of the instruments for fear of plummeting to my death. The sickening splat of Lee impacting with Queen Rina’s garden path still echoed in my mind.

  It had been a while since I had fled the palace, and I was still undecided on what to do. I had to make a decision, but each option seemed equally hopeless. I had no idea where the coal mines were, so trying to set a path in my brother’s direction was risky, especially in a hang-gliding motorcycle that I was clueless how to operate. On the other hand, returning to Patrus to search out Viggo would only result in my death.

  My chest constricted at the thought of the warden. I had betrayed him, and I didn’t even know if he had survived the explosion. If he had, it was possible that he was either being blamed by Patrus, or that he knew about my involvement in it. All three possibilities tore me apart.

  The words I’m sorry hovered on my lips, but I bit them back. What was the point of saying them now? It was too late—Viggo wasn’t here, and I was.

  I needed to survive.

  I was frustrated, cold, and likely had been in shock for the past couple of hours. Lee’s betrayal, the egg, the murders… I was drained, both physically and mentally. I needed to sleep, but I couldn’t land, nor did I dare to sleep on this thing.

  I reached down to the basket between my legs where I’d placed the egg and picked it up, staring at it for the umpteenth time. What could be so important about the tiny embryo encased within it (assuming that’s really what it was)? What was so unique about this that people were willing to kill for it? Why had Lee done what he had done?

  I had been chasing these questions around in my head for hours with no answers. Letting out a breath, I maneuvered myself on the seat and clicked the button that opened it up. Standing on the motorcycle was one of the most nerve-racking experiences I’d ever had, but I needed to put the egg somewhere safe while I figured out how to operate the machine. Careful not to knock any dials or levers, I placed the egg gently into the backpack that contained some supplies and Lee’s letter. I’d already zipped the key to the egg in there—it was so small and delicate, and I’d had several terrifying moments when I was sure it was going to slip from my fingers into the foliage below.

  Once the egg was secure, I closed the compartment with a click and sat down quickly. The motorcycle swung from side to side at my movements, and I clenched my hands on the seat to remain as still as possible while it stabilized. For a second, I was convinced it was going to pitch too far to the left or the right and I was going to slip off, but thankfully, it leveled out. Though that didn’t stop me from feeling dizzy. I definitely did not like flying. My stomach did one final flip before calming down.

  I settled back onto the seat, turning my mind to the future. I needed a plan, and I needed it now. I was torn between going after Viggo and explaining, or going to find my brother. After some quick thinking, I decided my brother took priority. Matrian agents would likely be after me already, and they might try to use him as leverage. I needed to find the mines and rescue him before they got to him first. After I retrieved him, I would figure out the next step.

  The expanse of The Green stretched out beneath me, shafts of moonlight that escaped through the clouds illuminating the canopy. The Green looked peaceful from up here, but I knew that the whole area beneath the treetops seethed with danger. My defense teacher, Ms. Dale, had shown me that in the three days of training I had received from her before I set out on my mission to Patrus. It was certainly not a place I was excited to return to, but at least it was secluded and Lee had packed survival gear in his backpack.

  I mentally went through the items within the seat compartment: There was a flashlight, four knives, five cans of the aerosol spra
y that seemed to repel the wildlife in The Green, a mask to keep the noxious fumes out, several cans of food, a canteen of water, a letter from Lee that was apparently addressed to himself, and photographs of the messages Lee had etched on King Maxen’s vehicle and Queen Rina’s library table.

  My stomach took that moment to growl at me, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten anything for ages. I was starving.

  I looked down at the seat, biting my lip. I could open the compartment and go for a can of food, but given how shaky the aircraft had gotten last time I stood, I’d better wait.

  Just then, something caught my eye—a flash of white beneath the canopy. Holding my breath and frowning, I leaned over, but the flash disappeared too quickly for me to catch what it was.

  Leaning back in the seat, I looked at the controls. I was going to have to learn how to fly this thing at some point. Now was as good a time as any to start.

  I knew the right throttle controlled the speed—I’d twisted it already during my escape. What I didn’t know was how to make it soar higher or lower, or how to steer it.

  Rubbing my fingers together, I eyed the console. There were several buttons there, none labeled. The last time I’d triggered an unknown control, the boxes that were fixed in front of and behind the aircraft had flapped open to release four corpses. Hopefully this time when I touched something it wouldn’t be as dramatic.

  Nervously, I ran my fingers over the console and pressed the top button. The headlight and dashboard went dark under my hand, causing my breath to hitch. I feared for a second I might have just deactivated the entire aircraft, but no—only the lights. My fingers found the button again and I pressed it, reactivating the bulbs.

  I looked tentatively at the next button and clicked it. Nothing seemed to happen. Frowning, I shifted slightly in my seat and held the handlebars. They felt… looser in my hands. Before, when I had slowed it down, they were tight and rigid: the front end not seeming to swing in any one direction. Experimenting, I angled the wheel to the right.