The Gender War (The Gender Game #4)(55)

Ashabee recoiled, as if he had been bitten by a snake, and fell into silence. Maxen, however, was a tougher nut to crack. “I believe that is the job you volunteered for, Mr. Croft. So forgive me if I lack any sympathy for your plight.”

I growled, about to open my mouth to tell him exactly what I would do with my plight, and offer a few graphic expletives about what he could do to himself. But Violet cut in, her gray eyes blazing.

“Enough,” she said. “Maxen, Ashabee—sit down. I think we would all like to find our beds again, so this whole process will go a lot faster if you sit down, shut up, and help us figure out a way to get ahead of this game.”

Maxen gaped, and I couldn’t contain my proud smile as Violet went around the large desk in the center of the room and sat down in the chair. She arched an imperious brow at the king, and his jaw clamped shut. But he gracefully sat in one of the chairs, and Ashabee, taking his cue from the king, found his own seat to perch on, one that allowed him to lift his injured leg off the ground.

I leaned against the bookcase and crossed my arms, looking at Violet, waiting to see what it was she had discovered that made her call an emergency meeting in the middle of the night. Knowing her, it was something game changing.

“We can’t keep doing this,” she said after a moment, bringing her hands together in front of her. “We’re only reacting to problems as they are presented—and we’ve been doing a rather bad job of that. We need to get ahead of them. Start a few of our own fires, and hopefully slow down Elena’s plan.”

I nodded in agreement, because it was true. Our situation was beginning to feel hopeless, stagnant, with no clear path on how to proceed. Even Henrik and Ms. Dale, when I’d gotten a chance to talk to them earlier, couldn’t seem to agree on any plan of attack. What was worse—they didn’t seem to have a clue where to start.

Neither did I. So if Violet had ideas, I was all ears.

Maxen gave Violet a look, the lines on his face smoothing out into an expression of passivity. “What do you propose?” he asked.

I could only stare at him. Whenever he took the time to quit acting like he was above all of us, Maxen seemed like a completely different person.

Violet seemed to take it in stride. “Well, for starters, Your Majesty, I think we need you and Ashabee to help identify every secret cache of weapons you two have hidden from the public—and the terrorists,” she announced. She settled back into her chair and rested her hands over her stomach.

The king revealed nothing, and neither did Ashabee, but the two did exchange a long look. “What makes you think either of us has anything like that, Ms. Bates?” Ashabee asked.

I smirked. Violet had ceased to be a harlot at that moment, and had suddenly turned into someone who deserved their respect. Or, at least, as much respect as these Patrians could muster—I wasn’t expecting too much from them.

Violet sighed, and the energy that she had carried into the room with her changed tone. “Now this,” she said, “is a discussion that is going to waste everyone’s precious sleeping time. So, let’s imagine, in the interest of time, we skip the part where we argue back and forth, and go right to the end, where you two admit you do know where they are. We may not be high class or royalty, but none of us are idiots. There’s been a semi-cold war between Matrus and Patrus the last few years. You’ve got to have some secrets.”

My respect for Violet doubled in that moment—something I hadn’t even known was possible. When had she developed this knack for down-and-dirty negotiating, for cutting through the rhetoric? A part of me worried she had gotten it from Desmond, until the rational side of my brain reminded me that… might not be so terrible. Violet wouldn’t become the type of person to cause collateral damage in the name of anything.

Maxen turned his gaze back to Ashabee, his mouth pursed. “No,” he growled. “I will not be sharing those details with a female Matrian upstart. You have no right to come here and tell me what I will and will not be doing. I am the king!”

Violet gave him a look, one of deep challenge. “That is your right, of course. But if you refuse to work with us to help you win this war, then you might as well just surrender. We might as well just hand you over to Elena bound, gagged, and topped with a big bow. And when she executes you and takes over both countries, I will be over here saying ‘I told you so.’”

I kept my face perfectly blank, but it was hard biting back the laugh that was struggling to get free. Especially seeing Maxen’s eyes bulge in anger, followed by the slow, probably worse, realization that Violet was not joking.

“Fine,” he said warily. “What’s your plan, then?”

“You’re going to have to use your stockpiles to arm and shelter your people,” Violet said simply. “Did you see the news? There are parts of the city that have been completely destroyed. Thousands of people have lost their homes and jobs. Those people will be heading this way out of the city—and those are the people you’re going to recruit. Men, women, anyone sixteen and up. They’re angry and scared and they’ll want to follow your lead once they realize you’re alive. Ms. Dale will help you, and I’m sure Henrik will want to be a part of it as well. Once you get them organized, you’re going to work in as much secrecy as possible. This will not be an upfront fight, but one from the shadows.”