The Gender War (The Gender Game #4)(25)

“Wow… is that…?”

“I really can’t say,” I said, stopping him. Most likely he’d recognized Violet from the public news announcements. It didn’t matter very much now. If the king believed us, he could clear her name without a doubt. And if he didn’t… I didn’t even want to think about that. The king had to believe us.

“I can’t imagine what they could’ve done, but judging by that look, they are about to get what’s coming to them. So uh… what’s with the kid in the front seat?” Mark asked.

I dropped the tarp and shook my head, manifesting an exasperated look. “You do not want to know,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I’m not even sure I can tell you what’s going on with that. But he’s harmless—after all this is over, I’m going to look into getting him his paperwork and Patrian citizenship. And get his dog proper registration. You know.”

“All right, then… Far be it from me to jeopardize your mission.”

I clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks. I’m not even sure I believe everything that happened out there myself. All I know is, I’m glad to be home.”

“I hear you. I can’t even imagine trying to rough it out there.”

Just then, the warden Mark had sent off to radio the palace returned, panting. “Mr. Croft is ordered to remain here. An escort is twenty minutes out. When they come, he is to follow them to a secure location away from the palace, where one of the king’s personal guards will be assisting him with the prisoners.”

Mark thanked him and turned to me. “All right, Viggo—I can imagine you don’t want to leave that boy alone too long in the cab, whoever he is. My men will be out here, so if anything happens, we’ll be ready to assist.”

I shook hands with him. “Thanks, Mark.”

“Just doing my job.”

Nodding, I turned back and climbed into the truck.

“Now what?” asked Tim.

Clearing my throat, I settled back in my seat. “Now we wait.”





10





Violet





After the truck began to move again, I leaned against the tailgate and gazed through the flapping tarp slit. I watched as we passed through the streets of the city, the orange streetlights chasing the shadows away. The view from the back of the truck was limited, and we were all too tense to talk. Truthfully, if anybody had wanted to talk, I wouldn’t have known what to say. We were heading into the lion’s den without any idea of what was going to happen. My hand throbbed at every bump the truck went over, and my eyelids felt like drooping, but my brain kept tumbling through scenarios one after the other, unable to stop.

I heard the high-pitched whine of the brakes as we slowly rumbled to a halt, and I held my breath, waiting to see whether this would be another brief stop, or if we had finally reached our destination. According to my watch, we’d been driving for twenty minutes after our wait.

The familiar shiver of the truck abruptly died as Viggo killed the engine. I heard his door open and close, followed by the sound of footsteps walking toward the back. After a few moments, the tarp was peeled back to reveal three wardens and Viggo. The three wardens had their guns drawn, and I found myself flinching away in alarm.

“Prisoners,” Viggo said loudly, giving me a worried look. Luckily, his back was to the wardens, so they didn’t notice. “Step out of the vehicle. One at a time. You first.” He pointed at me, and I slowly stood, my legs stretching after the bumpy ride. I walked over to him, my boots echoing loudly. As I approached the opening, I could see that the truck had stopped inside a long tunnel eerily lit by yellow running lights.

I squatted down and set one foot on the bumper, and Viggo grabbed my arm, helping me down. He staged it well—from the wardens’ perspective, it would look like he had gotten impatient and hauled me down. But he was careful not to hurt me, or irritate my hand, which was definitely beginning to feel swollen under my makeshift bandage.

“You three, take one prisoner each. There’s no need to keep your weapons pointed like that—they’re restrained,” Viggo ordered.

The three wardens didn’t question him, but they remained cautious as they ordered Ms. Dale, Owen, and Jay out one by one. Viggo looked impatient, and it was hard to tell whether it was genuine or just for show. Maybe a little of both. While the rest of the crew filed out, Viggo waved his free hand at Tim, who slowly got out, leaving Samuel in the cab.

Then, at some unheard command, we were moving forward, crossing the road—heading for some steps on the side of the tunnel leading to a single door. I looked around, trying to form an impression of this place in case we had to escape in a hurry. The two lanes in the center seemed to be clear, but construction signs, piles of lumber, and sand barrels loomed out of the yellow twilight in the other lanes closer to the sides of the tunnel. I looked back to see that we’d parked along the farthest edge, behind a low concrete barrier of the kind that I’d seen used to separate larger highways, when Viggo and I had been on patrol back during my mission in Patrus. It seemed like ages ago. Years ago.

The door in the tunnel, which looked like no more than a maintenance door and wasn’t visibly guarded, swung open as we approached, revealing a man waiting for us just inside.

“Mr. Croft,” he greeted Viggo, his hands behind his back. “I don’t believe we’ve met personally. I’m Guard Kellen—one of the king’s personal security force. Your prisoners will be searched before King Maxen will meet with them. Not that we doubt you, but we can’t take any chances.”