The Gender Plan (The Gender Game #6)(105)

“Do we have a deal, Desmond? Does Elena still want me enough to warrant taking me alive?”

Desmond’s mouth pulled tight, and I realized with a start that she didn’t agree with Elena about how to handle me. That was interesting, but not at all reassuring. If she just wanted me dead, she could shoot, but now that Elena’s younger sister was here as a witness, Desmond risked angering her queen. I could almost see the calculation in her eyes as she weighed the pros and cons.

Finally, she nodded. “Drop the bag and throw the gun on the ground,” she said with a wave of her own gun, clutched almost carelessly in the hand not holding her cane. “Walk over slowly.”

I obeyed, dropping all I carried and then moving over to her in the way she had asked, with both hands raised. The princess was closing in on her as well, and as we drew close, I slowed when I began to make out the details of her face, coming to a complete stop a few feet away, reeling from the likeness in front of me. The hair was different in style and color, but the resemblance was there.

“Desmond, what happened to you?” asked the princess, the husk in her voice making it surprisingly deep in spite of her slim, delicate form. Her turquoise eyes flicked over to me, and a smile licked the corner of her wide lips. “Is this her?”

The name dropped from my lips before I could stop it. “Morgan?”

Lena—or was she?—blinked at me in surprise, her lips popping open. “Morgana is here?” Her head snapped over to Desmond, her eyes blazing. “You said she’d been taken care of! Where is she?!”

The breath caught in my lungs as Morgan snapped into view a few feet behind Lena, her gun pointed at the princess’ blonde head. “Here,” she said calmly.

The next moment seemed as if it had been scripted somehow. Morgan pulled the trigger, the gunshot echoing loudly, but Lena had already sidestepped, her body spinning gracefully around as she leveled a fist at her twin’s face. By the time the punch would’ve connected, however, Morgan was out of range, her hands appearing out of nowhere to deflect the blow and deliver an attack of their own.

I could only watch, stunned. The fight was a graceful dance, their moves fluid yet strong. More often than not, they didn’t even touch, their limbs coming within an inch of each other as they anticipated and blocked one another’s moves. It looked effortless, but I could hear that each of them was straining as they let out grunts and harsh breaths. The battle was beautiful, but it was deadly, and the precision and ruthlessness of the two fighters was terrifying. The gun went off once, then twice more, to no effect that I could see—Morgan was not pulling her punches. She was trying to kill her sister.

I stared for what felt like too long, but must have been less than a minute. Then my eyes flicked back to Desmond. I saw her turning her eyes from the fight toward me at the same moment, and I lunged toward her, trying to take the advantage. But I was weaponless, and she swung her gun up toward me again, shaking her head like a teacher scolding a naughty child. “Are you reneging on our deal?”

I froze. “No,” I said, not bothering to hide the regret in my voice. “Just… testing your reflexes.”

Desmond took a couple steps and shoved the gun into my side again, dropping the cane and wrapping her arm around my good arm. “Best not to get involved in a family squabble,” she said with a flick of her head toward the sisters, pushing me forward. “It’ll be over soon enough.”

I stumbled forward as Desmond prompted, painfully aware of her gun in my side. My mind struggled to rework our plan, frantically improvising as Desmond pushed me closer to the pool, angling us toward the heloship. Two women clad in sky-blue uniforms—indicating they were royal guards—were already heading toward us, rifles in their hands, but they were still a fair distance away. I took them in, and then looked back over my shoulder to see the twins still intertwined in their delicate and deadly dance. Cody was trailing along behind us, and I focused on him.

“Wait,” I said to Desmond, coming to a sudden halt. “I told you I would come quietly… if you let Cody go! He’s still here. You’re breaking our deal!”

She started to scoff, but I stepped into her, bringing my face so close to hers that I could count every wrinkle. “Don’t you dare,” I grated out, meeting her eyes. She pushed the gun deeper into my ribs in warning, but I brought my left hand up to the muzzle, ready to push it away from me. “If you break your word right now, I will fight you tooth and nail. I know I’ll lose, but I don’t care as long as I do as much damage as possible. You’ve got a broken leg. And you’ve already seen what I can do.”

Desmond stared at me, and then gave an irritated tsk and turned around to look at Cody. “You heard Violet. Go.”

Cody’s eyes widened, and he frowned. “No,” he said, his voice high with alarm. “I want to go with you!”

Desmond watched him, bored and impassive, as tears welled up in his eyes and he began to cry. “Cody, you’re acting like an infant. You’re useless without Benuxupane.”

At her words, his tears turned to sobs, and she rolled her eyes and turned away. “Let’s go,” she said, nudging me forward. I tried to ignore the sickness in my stomach that was adding to my anger—if Desmond hurt his feelings, maybe Cody would finally believe us about her… Maybe it would be for the best…