The Gender War (The Gender Game #4)(17)

They went. The little outboard motor buzzed to life, and the boat took off at a sharp clip toward the Patrian side of the river. Then I turned back to Viggo, who was looking at me with a strange expression.

“What?” I asked.

He shook his head and just smiled. “Nothing. Just… you really are a remarkable woman, you know that?”

I felt myself flush at his compliment, and it sent me soaring, higher than I would think possible for someone on a sinking ship. Then I gazed down at the oncoming water, and felt weariness slice up through my elation.

“So… now what?” I murmured.





7





Viggo





I looked at the water slowly creeping up the deck toward us, not entirely sure how to answer Violet’s question. In true Violet fashion, she had set the stage for either our grand rescue, or our death. Not that I was complaining. Violet was certainly picking up on our own idiosyncrasies, and I had to admit she was right. There had been no way we were leaving this boat without each other, and arguing about it would’ve just wasted time.

It was… better this way. Come good or bad. I ran my tongue over my lower lip and looked back at the place where the helm had been. The roof we were standing on was tilting faster than ever now; only a few feet from us, the boat’s stern was rising out of the water as the bow plunged forward, the back of the deck still dry for the moment.

An idea struck me. “C’mon,” I said, grabbing Violet’s arm and pulling her toward the back. “If we jump back there, we can hang on to the railing at the stern. This thing is going to keep sinking nose first. But if we’re lucky, it’ll slow down, and air will be trapped in the back of the ship. That should keep us afloat long enough for them to get back to us.”

Violet nodded, her eyes surveying the area in front of us. I wasn’t entirely sure that I was right, but it was better than staying on this slippery roof as it grew more and more vertical. “I can make that,” she said, as if trying to convince herself of her ability to jump over the part of the deck submerged in water.

“I know you can,” I said. “And I’ll go first, so I can be there to catch you.”

That made her smile, like I’d intended, the kind of sweet, surprised smile that made me want to hold her. “How gentlemanly of you,” she said, mocking me a little—okay, I’d earned it—but the smile didn’t go away.

Without waiting for the ship to tilt more, I backed to the other side of the roof, took a running start, and leapt over the lapping waves to the slanted deck still above them. My first boot to touch the ground slipped, and for a moment I flailed. But the second boot landed solidly, and I turned and watched Violet follow my lead.

She’d given the bag containing the eggs to Tim in case we really did go down, and I was glad it wasn’t here to weigh her down. Her feet hit the slanted deck inches above the water line, and I reached out and grabbed her arm to steady her, not letting go as I led us to the railing at the boat’s stern and helped her climb over.

Within moments, we were both clinging to the rails of a sinking ship. It was the highest position we could reach, and it would have to do.

Violet looked out over the rolling water in the direction the raft had gone. The smoke had dissipated, but it was getting almost too dark to see without the electric lights that had decked the boat. But the life raft’s little red emergency beacon was nowhere in sight. “I can’t see a thing. Well, all this might have been in vain,” she announced. I could tell she was trying to be humorous, but it was a dark humor, one filled with the knowledge that in the next few minutes, we could be dead.

“Owen will find us,” I said, and she turned back toward me, her eyes sparkling with hope.

“You think so?” she asked, and I nodded.

“Well, as your other boyfriend, he’s obligated to—OW!”

I rubbed the spot on my arm that Violet had savagely pinched, frowning at her.

“Owen is not, nor will he ever be, my boyfriend,” she said tartly. “Since apparently I like them arrogant and Patrian. Who knew?”

I chuckled as I ran a hand through my hair. “Yeah, well, I knew my type from day one. The more difficult and headstrong…”

“The better?” she supplied.

“Exactly.”

Violet bit her lip thoughtfully. “So… any regrets?” she asked finally.

I looked at her for a long moment, then shook my head. “I’m not doing that, Violet.”

She frowned. “Why not? Seems like a good time to me.”

I pulled myself slightly up on the rails, looking at the oncoming water. It had risen rapidly, and the bow had sunk deep enough that I didn’t have to keep holding on—the outside of the boat was closer to horizontal than vertical. Still, it was safer to keep holding the rail, so I did, though I slid from standing to a half-crouching, half-sitting position. Violet eventually did the same.

I couldn’t explain why I wasn’t going to talk about my regrets, not exactly. I felt a keen discomfort thinking about it at all, because it felt like doing so would be like admitting defeat. And there was no way I was willing to do that.

My discomfort in that moment wasn’t even due to all the lives that were at stake, or the fact that our worlds, our cultures, were about to tear each other apart. It was because of her. Because I didn’t want to miss out on all the time we were going to have together. I didn’t want to admit that my one regret in this world was not getting enough time with her.