The Gender Plan (The Gender Game #6)(27)

“Walk. But lost. Took time. Find, and then hide. Wait for you.”

I bit my lip. “Tim, I am so sorry we didn’t find you sooner. We thought if you had found your way back there, the wardens would’ve grabbed you.”

“I smart. More smart than wardens.”

My smile was sad. “But Tim, you were there for so long. I should’ve looked for you, should’ve come back sooner.”

Tim frowned and then shook his head. “No. You hurt. In palace. Head and hand. You sick. I find you.”

“That’s not your responsibility!” I insisted. “I’m supposed to take care of you.”

Tim smiled crookedly at me, and shook his head. “No. Take care Violet, take care me. Team.”

I gave him a doubtful look, and he shifted his hand over, resting it on mine. “Team,” he repeated, his eyes stern.

I smiled softly under his scrutiny, and then nodded. “Team,” I said back to him, and he relaxed visibly, leaning back into the pillow. “I love you.”

He smiled back. “Love you too.”





10





Viggo





I was so glad Violet had told me about Owen’s confession before he had given it. Although, sitting there in the kitchen at our noon meeting, it was hard not to act upon my initial instinct and get up to punch him. The only things holding me in place were the fact that Violet had begged me not to hurt him, and the tiny voice inside me, still whispering that all of this was my fault.

The room was tense and unhappy, people’s expressions ranging from shocked to disenchanted to faces that said this couldn’t get any worse. We’d already had one conversation, the night before, when Ms. Dale and I had brought back four unconscious people—Violet, Owen, Tim, and Desmond. I was glad Violet had been asleep for the argument that had followed. Nobody liked Desmond being here, but try as we might, none of us could think of a solution that didn’t end in the possibility of disaster. We were stuck with her. And we all hated how she’d played us, even if her story was true.

Now, as Owen’s story emerged, it felt like just another blow to our group’s tight-knit dynamics and carefully made plans. I tried to remind myself that everything wasn’t falling apart—that we were not terribly worse off than we’d been before.

Owen stood in front of the room, his expression flat, his words bare. “When I got the coordinates for Tim’s location from Thomas, I didn’t think we would actually find Tim there. I realized how close the coordinates were to Ashabee’s mansion, and, despite knowing it was a bad idea, I reached out to Desmond.”

Everyone in the room gasped except for Violet and me. She reached out under the table to take my hand, squeezing my fingers, but her eyes remained locked on the table surface in front of her. I squeezed her fingers back, knowing how difficult this was for her to hear.

“I told Desmond that I would take her up on the deal she offered Viggo on the night… on the night that Ian died. If she let the rest of the boys go and promised never to hurt them, I would give her the king’s location, the real egg, and… Violet.”

The shocked silence spread across the room like oil and water, broken only by Amber saying in a voice that was half snarl, half whisper, “You told her about the egg?”

Owen looked down, and I saw Violet’s face tighten, but she murmured, “Amber, let him finish.”

Owen swallowed, and it seemed that everybody in the room could hear the sound. “I bargained with her. I told her she had to promise not to hurt Violet, and she could only bring a few guards, even though I knew she wouldn’t honor the first promise for long. I thought—” He stumbled, then his voice grew clear again, and he looked up at the crowd with a frankness I couldn’t help but respect, albeit grudgingly. “I was being reckless, but I thought that if the two of us got her to come out to a remote location with only a few guards, we could take her down once and for all. End all of this. But I knew that Violet would never agree. Desmond taught me well, it seems.” Owen’s tone was a strange kind of soured wistfulness, his admission tainted by whatever guilt was tearing at him. “I knew that if I drove Violet around, and pointed out how close Ashabee’s manor was, she’d want to go. I even resisted at first… I played her.”

He looked at Violet, and then at me, and I met his gaze head on, the urge to hit him temporarily silencing the voice of reason. Violet squeezed my fingers again, and I released Owen’s gaze and shifted my attention to her, noting her watching me from the corner of her eye. Her face was impassive, but her shoulders stooped.

“I know what I did was wrong. I see that now. But it doesn’t change what I did. And I know what you’re thinking. You think that… that Ian’s… that what happened was affecting my judgment, and you’re probably right. But it doesn’t matter. I have to own what I did. So please, just don’t let that affect your decision. I deserve whatever punishment you decide.”

He fell quiet, and the silence grew. I risked a glance around the table, trying to get a read on the room. Ms. Dale’s face was twisted with a scowl, her brows down, her eyes glued to the table. Amber’s cheeks were flushed red, and she was leaning slightly away from Owen, distinctly uncomfortable. Thomas, on the other hand, was staring at Owen, his face in a surprising configuration of openhearted compassion and understanding. I envied Thomas that—so quick to forgive, to understand, even in the face of betrayal.