The Gender Fall (The Gender Game #5)(44)

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…