The Gender Plan (The Gender Game #6)(51)

“Then the call came. He’d failed. He was taken right from her arms, in spite of my Mathilda trying to resist. She called me on my handheld, distraught, begging me to come help her, but it wasn’t that easy. Permission takes time and patience. I put in my application, tried to get it rushed through… but before I had even made it through the process, the wardens called me. She and Edgar had committed suicide. Overdose.”

Henrik fell silent, his eyes glistening with tears, and before I could stop myself, I reached out and took his hand. He blinked, tears dripping down his face, and met my gaze. I squeezed his hand, and he exhaled shakily.

“I didn’t get to see them buried, but they left me their rings, at least. You guys know the rest of the story, really, but…” He broke off abruptly and stood up. “It doesn’t matter. Just, please accept the rings. I would consider it a great honor if you decided to use them as your wedding bands, but don’t feel obligated. You’re both like family to me, and because of that… well… I’ve said what I needed to say.”

Viggo broke the silence first, speaking softly. “I’m not speaking for Violet, but I would be deeply honored to use them.”

“I would too,” I said, finding my voice. I met Henrik’s gaze with a smile, and he smiled in return.

“Good,” he said, backing up toward the door. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to try and get some of that sleep stuff all the kids are talking about.”

I chuckled, a smile blooming on my face as I watched him turn and swing the door open. “Of course. Good night, Henrik.”

“Good night, kids,” he said, and pulled the door shut behind him.

Viggo and I sat there for a moment, still stunned by the unexpected gift and Henrik’s tragic tale. After a few minutes, I reached over and picked up the smaller, more slender ring, pinching it between two fingers and examining it closely. It was beautiful—gold, with tiny stylized flowers etched into the side.

“Do you like it?” Viggo asked.

“I do,” I said after a moment.

Viggo reached out and plucked the ring from my fingers. Examining it closely, he nodded in satisfaction. “I would have picked it out at a store for you,” he replied, taking my hand in his and slipping the ring over my ring finger. It hung lightly on my finger, but it was slightly too big, and I felt like it was going to slip off.

“We have to get it resized,” I said, pulling it off and dropping it back in the box.

“We will,” he replied. “In the meantime, do you know what this means?”

I adjusted my bottom, pushing back from the end of the bed, and then flopped back into my pillow. “Not really.”

Viggo stretched out beside me, propping his head up on his hand. “It means we are now officially ready to get married.”

I snorted and turned onto my side, presenting him with my back. He immediately slid up next to me, his arm coming over and around my waist and his legs slipping through mine. “After all this is done,” I reminded him, my eyelids already beginning to grow heavy and cumbersome.

“Of course,” he breathed into my ear.

And then I was out—sleep pulling me down and under.





18





Viggo





“Just remember that we have to convince…” Henrik trailed off, his head swiveling around to regard King Maxen, who was standing on the landing of the stairs to the basement, his eyes bleary from sleep. I couldn’t blame him. My eyes burned, and I felt like my head had been swaddled in coffee—the five hours of sleep we had tried to grab had ultimately turned out closer to three, but in batches. The ordeals Violet and I had faced were beginning to weigh on us both. Her nightmares woke me, and mine woke her. I was beginning to wonder what a good night’s sleep even meant anymore.

Maxen stood at the top of the stairs for a span of time, glowering down at us, and I sighed. I was not particularly eager for another interaction with the king of Patrus. He was a fundamentally selfish man, both entitled and arrogant. In retrospect, I kind of wished I had let Henrik, Amber, and Quinn shoot him instead of kidnapping him.

Maxen broke the silence by clomping loudly down the stairs, each sound making me fight off a wince. He’d gotten a bit thinner, there was gray blending in at the sides of his temples as well as his eyebrows, and he had exchanged his finer clothes for simpler ones, although I suspected that hadn’t been as much of a choice as a necessity. I could tell he was miserable—it was in every deep nook and cranny of his face not obscured by the beard that had fully grown in around his goatee. He was also angry—it was subtle and slow burning, but it was there, glimmering in his blue eyes, and it winked at us every now and then in every interaction.

He sat down at the head of the table and folded his hands atop it. “Good morning,” he said stiffly, not meeting anyone’s gaze.

Ms. Dale, bless her heart, didn’t even bat an eye. “Good morning, King Maxen. Thank you for joining us.”

“It’s not exactly like I had a choice,” the king snapped back, and I had to bite my tongue to keep myself from interjecting. It would only turn this situation from uncomfortable to worse. Maxen was clearly spoiling for a fight. Luckily, Ms. Dale wasn’t going to allow it to escalate.

“That’s entirely correct,” she replied cheerfully. “So sit down, shut up, do what you’re told, and maybe we’ll get around to finally restoring your kingdom. And if you do it quickly, there might actually be some of it left to save!”