The Gender Game 5: The Gender Fall Page 4

  My brother. I pushed off the wall and moved into the room. At first, no one noticed me, but I cleared my throat loudly, and everyone turned. I looked around at all of them, noting the alarm and surprise on their faces with a detached sense of curiosity. The ache in my ear pulsed; my ribs creaked as I breathed; my hand twinged; the walls of the room revolved around me gently.

  Amber stood up, her violet eyes wide. My eyes dropped to her lips, watching them move. I turned my good ear toward her, and her voice came through.

  “—okay, Violet?”

  I nodded, my hand searching for support and fumbling with a bookcase. “I’m fine,” I insisted. Viggo was already out of his seat, his expression concerned. I focused my thoughts. “Where’s Tim?”

  Amber froze and I looked around, turning my head slowly so as not to upset it, noting the expressions on everyone’s faces. They seemed… worried. Worried and sad. Well—most of them did. Thomas was wearing a strange expression, his eyes fixed pointedly on the table.

  “What’s going on?” I slurred.

  Viggo broke the silence, moving over to me. “Violet, Tim is missing,” he said, his voice level, his expression becoming carefully neutral. I cocked my head at him, confused. He paused, as if searching for words, and then continued. “He covered Jay and Thomas as they fled the palace after rescuing King Maxen and Quinn. Somehow, in the confusion, they lost him.”

  I turned my gaze back to Thomas, studying him closely. His expression hadn’t changed much, but his head had sunk a fraction of an inch lower. That was… guilt in his eyes.

  The expression was so absurd on Thomas that I felt a laugh bubbling up from my stomach and out of my throat. “Very funny, guys,” I said, smiling broadly, then wincing as my bruised face throbbed.

  No one laughed.

  “Tim?” I called. Amber looked away, clearly uncomfortable.

  I took a few swaying steps forward, knocking over Viggo’s chair with my hip as I reached for the table, my balance threatening to give out. I couldn’t hear it fall, but I noticed Owen flinch as it hit the floor. “Tim?” I called again, my voice pleading.

  “Violet, please—” Viggo said behind me, but I ignored him.

  “Tim, where are you?” I cried, moving toward the door, my heart pounding. “Tim, please! Answer me.”

  My breathing was coming in gasps, the pain in my ribs increasing, and I half heard Owen mumble something behind me. I tried to move closer to the door, tears streaking down my face and pattering onto my chest. I had to find my brother! He had to be here!

  I was reaching for the doorknob when the world gave up trying to make sense. My legs gave out. I would’ve fallen, but Viggo was there, his strong hands grabbing me before I hit the ground. He hefted me up with a grunt, tucking me tight against his chest.

  Still I stretched for the door, crying out for my brother. Viggo shushed me as he carried me back down the hallway and into my room. I protested, but he ignored me, gently setting me down onto the bed.

  I looked up at him, my vision hazy, and I realized I was still crying. Viggo snarled under his breath, though I wasn’t sure why, and then picked up the blanket and slid into bed with me, covering us both. Carefully, tenderly, his arms came around me, so lightly that my ribs didn’t even twinge. My entire body warped with pain, I still angled myself toward his warmth, wanting his comfort and strength.

  “I promise we will find him,” Viggo whispered in my ear, his hand trailing through my hair. I nodded, but still the tears poured from me. I cried against him, my tears soaking through his shirt, but he didn’t complain.

  Eventually, unconsciousness crept up on me, and I slept.

  6

  Viggo

  Violet’s deep, even breathing told me she had finally succumbed to sleep. I stroked her forehead, hoping that if she dreamt, the dreams would be calming, loving. I rested her back against the pillow and pulled the blanket over her shoulders, then stared at her for a minute, my eyes struggling between avoiding and seeking out the tear-stained, injured side of her face. My stomach twisted in knots as I took in the damage, searching her countenance over and over again.

  I knew the bruises would fade, and the cuts and broken bones would heal. But the bruising belied the bigger problem—Tabitha had punched Violet square in the face with her superhuman strength. I hadn’t seen all of it, but I had watched the video Violet had recorded using a button camera on her shirt. I had only seen Tabitha’s fist moving, followed by the sickening sound of flesh on flesh and Violet’s cry of pain. It was a miracle Violet was even alive after that hit.

  I sat for a minute, running my hand over my face. I was exhausted, my eyelids heavy. I needed to shave—nothing new there—and I was deeply worried about Violet. I had hoped that, unlike me, she would be able to sleep until we figured out some way to ease her suffering with more than just painkillers. Unfortunately, things hadn’t gone according to my plan. Her panic in the dining room, no matter how justified, was uncharacteristic of her, confirming what the doctor had feared: her concussion was much worse than we’d thought. He had warned me about this. If we didn’t get her to a hospital soon…

  I pushed the grim thought aside. I couldn’t dwell on that. It sent too much fear through me, which in turn made me frustrated and angry. I wanted to do something—anything—that would help her, but we were flying blind here. We barely had any information about what was going on; the tickers were still down, confirming Thomas’ assertion that the damage in the palace had affected them, and even with Tabitha likely dead, I knew with certainty Elena was not going to take this lying down.

  Not to mention, Tim was missing. That alone terrified me, not only for Violet’s sake, but for Tim’s as well. I had grown fond of Violet’s little brother. He was an apt student who had borne the brunt of his isolation and the experimentation he’d suffered with a resolve worthy of my respect and admiration. The young man was resourceful and smart, just like his sister, so I had to believe he was all right. I just needed to know where to find him. I hated not knowing almost as much as I hated knowing someone I was responsible for was missing, possibly injured… or worse.

  Behind me, there was a soft rap on the door. I turned, the bedsprings squeaking under my shifting weight, and saw Amber standing there, concern stamped on her features. Behind her was Dr. Arlan, the middle-aged Patrian man we had… coerced into helping Henrik, who had been shot during the battle at Ashabee’s with the Matrian wardens. Dr. Arlan was tall and lanky, with a thick brown beard and brown eyes. He kept his brown hair cut close to his head, so you could barely see the thick waves in it.

  Amber’s eyes flicked to Violet in a silent query.

  “She’s sleeping again,” I said as I stood up.

  “I guess that’s good,” Amber said, though her expression remained dark and weary. “People have been asking about her ever since you guys got back. Jay. Ms. Dale. What’s-his-face… her cousin. At least now I have a good excuse to keep them out of here.”

  I nodded appreciatively. “Yes… It might not be safe to bring a whole bunch of people in here just yet. We still don’t know… We don’t know…”

  I trailed off with the words if she’s going to make it hovering at the tip of my tongue.

  Dr. Arlen seemed to take that as his cue, and stepped into the room, moving over to the bed. He pulled out a penlight and shined it into her eyes, pulling them open one at a time. Violet groaned and twitched at the intrusion but, worryingly, didn’t wake.

  I crossed my arms and leaned against the desk, waiting and watching closely as the man took her pulse, then pressed his fingers against her skull, probing gently. After he finished his examination, he stood up and turned toward me, his expression stoic.

  “She needs to go to a hospital,” he said. He had been saying that since his first examination.

  “We’re working on it,” I replied with a tight nod.

  Dr. Arlan’s expression shifted from neutral to disapproving. “Stop working on it and do it. Or else this young lad
y will die. She has a severe concussion—that’s why her pupils are uneven, though it looks like there’s no major damage to her eyes. Her ribs are probably bruised, but they don’t look broken—that horse doctor you talked about wrapped up her wrist pretty good. The worst thing is, her skull is fractured, which means there’s likely bleeding into the brain. Depending on how fast the bleed is, her condition could deteriorate very gradually—she may lose functions slowly—or it could be over in only a few days. She needs surgery, and I don’t have the tools or the space to do it here.”

  I held back my frustrated reply, one full of colorful language, and nodded. “We’re working on it,” I repeated.

  He huffed, but didn’t say anything. His glare spoke volumes. I met his gaze, and eventually he looked away. “Whatever it is you plan to do, be sure to do it fast,” he said, striding to the door.

  I exhaled slowly, fighting for calm, and cracked my neck, releasing the tension there. I met Amber’s gaze as I straightened and moved toward the door. She backed up into the hall, allowing me to step out and close the door. I left it open a crack, just in case Violet cried out in her sleep, and started to move past Amber.

  Her arm shot out, her hand hitting the wall with a thump, blocking my path. I took a step back and arched an eyebrow.

  “You need to let us go to the Liberators,” she said, crossing her arms.

  I sighed—mostly out of exhaustion—and shook my head. “We’ve been over this. It’s too risky.” Which was true. Amber had been bothering me about this since she’d picked us up from the rendezvous point, and I’d thought it was a bad idea the whole time. Not only did the Liberators believe Violet and I were spies for our respective governments, but Desmond had likely informed them that Amber, Owen, Henrik, Quinn, and Thomas were all defectors, betraying their cause for ours. Granted, the Liberators had no idea Desmond was a treacherous snake who had been recruiting them for years, playing off most of their desires to rescue their lost sons, or, in the case of those like Amber, their desire to see meaningful change in the prescribed gender roles that separated the two countries. I doubted the group would look kindly on an unexpected visit from us. And they would probably show their displeasure by trying to kill anyone we sent up there.

  “Too risky?” Amber retorted, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “As opposed to trying to get Violet into the city and to a hospital, without her being seen?”

  I swallowed hard, trying to calm myself. Amber meant well. She was just as worried as the rest of us. Not just for Violet, but also for Quinn and Henrik, her two injured team members. I glanced at the room next to Violet’s, where the two men were sleeping on twin beds, and then back at her.

  “What makes you think it will work?” I asked, leaning a shoulder against the wall.

  Amber’s eyes lit up and she smiled eagerly. “Well, for one thing, we have the video.” I cringed as she mentioned it, my stomach roiling in disgust at what I had seen there. Namely, Violet, running for her life, bravely talking to Tabitha, getting her to reveal herself for what she truly was and confirming aspects of Elena’s plan.

  Not that the Patrians needed confirmation. Before they could even get to the stage of confirmation, they needed to be informed. In the eyes of the Patrians, Queen Elena had ridden in on a white horse to save her neighbors in spite of their ideological differences. She had sent in soldiers to help put out fires, doctors with medicine, and aid workers with food, water, and blankets. No one knew she was behind the fires that had ravaged a third of the city. Or that she was quietly having sixty percent of the male population exterminated.

  “There’s no guarantee the video will sway them,” I replied. “And, if Desmond is there, you’d be walking into a trap.”

  Amber waved her hand as if chasing away the thought. “Desmond’s not there,” she retorted. “I got new information from Thomas when we touched down. He’s been listening in on as many Matrian communications as possible, and he got some news of the Liberators.” Her gaze tightened angrily, but she continued her logical expression of the new information. “Can’t be sure, but he thinks the Matrians raided their facility in The Green. Desmond must have set them up somehow—I think the Matrians have taken control of the facility. And… and the boys.”

  “How is that good news?” I asked, a hollowness swelling in the pit of my stomach. The Matrians had full control of the boys again. It made me want to punch a hole in the wall.

  Amber blew out a hard breath. “One,” she said, “because it means Desmond is probably not with them. She wouldn’t risk being caught between the two sides. Besides, she’s probably too busy trying to help Elena clean up this mess.

  “And two, if the Liberators had to evacuate, then I know exactly where they all are. And it’ll be much safer to travel there than the Facility.”

  I stared at her and reluctantly took the bait. “Where would that be?”

  “Home base,” Amber said, a gleam in her eye. “It’s the original base, also in The Green’s region—the one where Desmond brought us all before she found… well, before she let us in on the Facility with the boys.”

  “Great,” I said, weariness making me snappy. “That sounds safe and easy.”

  “They have a doctor, Viggo. A good one… one who is well trained in mobile surgical care.”

  She was referring to Dr. Elizabeth Tierney, the Liberator doctor who had performed surgery on me, helping to repair my heart after I had damaged it in a fight to the death with the twin princesses of Matrus. Dr. Tierney had always struck me as a reasonable woman, but I still doubted she would help us.

  “What about the heloship? It—”

  “Is more than capable of getting to our home base, even on limited fuel,” Amber cut me off. “It’s fast, and it’s large enough to transport any troops we might take, or any equipment Dr. Tierney might need to help Violet.”

  “I was going to say it’s our biggest advantage right now,” I replied, “and it’s a bad idea to risk it—not to mention, we have no idea how heavily protected the border is.”

  Amber gave me a droll look, her lips quirking up in a smile. “Viggo, the Liberator home base is on the Patrian side of the river. We don’t even need to cross a border. Besides, the point of the heloship is that it can fly. I could fly due east, until we were over the mountains, and then head north, avoiding most of civilization altogether. Circle back around.”

  I considered this new information, but still found myself shaking my head, fighting back the weariness creeping up the corners of my eyes. “Just as easy to go to a hospital and steal the equipment we need.”

  “And lead anyone who might be following right back here? Trust me, the heloship is the way to go. It can’t be tracked from the air, and anyone on the ground would lose sight of it pretty quickly. Someone would have to be standing right underneath to know where it landed. And believe me, nobody is going to be standing where we’re going to land.”

  “Without the ticker, we are flying blind here! We have no updates on anything remotely helpful, and no idea what Elena is planning. Tabitha’s death won’t set her back. It might if she had a heart, but…”

  “Even with a super brain, it still takes time to coordinate things. Messages have to be sent, people have to be accounted for, troops have to move… We have a window of time here, Viggo. Let’s take the opportunity, the chance. We have to—the people we care about are going to die if we don’t.” Amber’s eyes shone with sincerity and determination. I could almost hear what she meant: Violet was going to die if we didn’t go.

  I looked into her eyes and exhaled slowly. “Are you sure about this? Do you think the Liberators will actually hear you out?”

  Amber nodded, her red locks bouncing atop her head. “Desmond told them we were traitors, but I know people in there. They’re my friends. They’ll hear me out. Me and Owen. We’ve just got to get them to watch the video.”

  “You’re placing a lot of faith in that video,” I replied, and she gave me a stern look.

  �
��Violet almost sacrificed her life getting us that video,” she said, her voice brittle. “Because of that, we have something tangible to show people. We have proof Elena is behind the attacks on Patrus. That counts for something.”

  I tilted my head up toward the ceiling. Amber was right. I was letting my own personal hatred for the contents of that video override my logic. Truth be told, I didn’t want anyone to see that video. I hated to imagine what they might think of Violet. After all, it also provided clear evidence that she was behind the bombing of the palace, and I wasn’t sure that would go over well with anyone from Patrus, no matter her rationale behind it.

  Yet I knew pictures spoke more to people than words ever could. I could shout at the top of my lungs that Elena was behind everything, and nobody would listen. But if we could show them evidence… then they might come around.

  Amber held her hands up, palms together, and gave me a big-eyed, pleading look. I rolled my eyes, but a smile crossed my face. “Okay,” I said, and she gave an excited squeal, clapping her hands rapidly together. I waited for her excitement to die down, giving her a sardonic look. “For the record, it was your well-thought-out and carefully reasoned argument that won, not the puppy dog eyes.”

  Amber shrugged. “Don’t care, still won,” she practically sang as she turned, heading back into the dining room.

  I rolled my eyes again, but I was still smiling. Amber had an infectious way about her, and I felt slightly revitalized as I headed back into the dining room, stifling a yawn behind my fist, ready to do damage control.

  7

  Viggo

  I bent over, picking up the chair Violet had knocked over in her panic, and then sat down in it. Ms. Dale looked up at me from across the table, and I gave her a small nod and a tight smile. Then I realized everyone else was also looking at me expectantly, waiting for news about Violet.