The Gender War (The Gender Game #4)(66)

Violet had told me that news when we were out on our scouting mission. Supposedly, the Patrian elite were also there to greet the Matrian delegates in the diplomatic relief program—who were being led by Princess Tabitha, and had brought soldiers to help quell the fires and stop the looting. I scowled.

I was certain they were doing just that, and more, trying to buy the good will of the people—at least in the public eye. About what they were doing behind closed doors, I could only make dark assumptions and hazard terrible guesses. The news had disheartened us all, and I could tell the fact that Tabitha was in the country horrified Violet. But on the plus side, Henrik had told me that Maxen had taken to his room all day after reading it.

“Look at you, though,” Violet said to Ashabee, and I wrenched my mind back to the present. “Your black eye is going to tell them that something is going on!”

Ashabee’s fingers found his face, as though testing it, and he flinched slightly, but he was undeterred. “Then I’ll tell them that there are refugees here. They came in the night, and we got into a scuffle before I realized what was going on.”

Violet’s face was diamond-hard as she stared at him. “I still can’t trust you, not after what you did.”

Ashabee scowled back. “Then trust that I will do this for his majesty, and not for you.”

Violet considered this, and then pulled her gun up between their faces. “If you tell them anything,” she whispered, her voice eerie in its coldness, “I will put a bullet in your head, and then in ‘his majesty’s’ head. Do you understand?”

Ashabee paled, his eyes widening in alarm as he took in the sincerity of Violet’s threat. I knew Violet would never stoop so low as to kill someone in cold blood, but I had no doubt that at this moment, she truly wanted to. What had happened with the refugees hadn’t changed the situation of the world, but it had gotten us all in a dangerous mood.

Ashabee nodded hard. “I won’t say a word,” he replied, straightening his shirt. He reached past Violet, clicking something on the door. A panel lowered, revealing a computer screen that gave us a view of both the bottom and the top of the steps that led to the house. “These cameras have microphones,” he whispered. “You’ll be able to hear everything.”

Violet’s eyes took it in, and she gave him a tight nod. “Go,” she ordered.

Ashabee turned and grabbed the doorknob, taking a long, deep breath before stepping outside and pulling the door closed behind him.

I pushed in close to Violet, and she briefly moved her gaze to me before turning back to the screen, holding her breath. We waited in silence as Ashabee limped down the stairs, approaching a tall, well-built Matrian woman who was waiting patiently at the bottom, her hands clasped behind her back.

“Mr. Ashabee,” the woman said once he was down. The microphones picked up her voice faintly, but distinctly. “I am Maia Nelee, special advisor to Princess Tabitha.” My mood darkened. Tabitha’s name being dropped couldn’t be a good sign.

“Greetings, Warden Nelee,” Ashabee said graciously, dipping his head in an only-somewhat-wobbly bow. I was impressed at how calm and level his voice was, all things considered.

“Mr. Ashabee… before I begin, are you all right?”

Ashabee started, and then laughed, as if he suddenly remembered his limp and the condition of his face. “We had a bit of an incident last night. Several refugees from the city thought they could hide out here. They didn’t know anyone was at home.”

Warden Nelee’s face was impassive as she regarded him. “I see,” she said dryly, her tone blatantly reflecting her doubt. “Are you saying that these refugees are holding you prisoner?” she asked, arching an imperious eyebrow.

“No, no… nothing like that! We have made amends, and I didn’t feel right turning them away. Not after what happened with our defense system, anyway.” He coughed, clearly embarrassed. “Several of their people were killed.”

Nelee looked around, taking in the two trucks and the rigged gate. “It looks like a small battle occurred here,” she remarked, and Ashabee shrugged.

“I can see what you’re saying, but I assure you, they meant no hostility. They even helped repair the gate, and luckily their vehicles weren’t damaged too much.”

There was a span of silence, and then Nelee offered up a charming smile. “What a remarkable story,” she announced. “One I am sure you will be telling your grandchildren.”

Ashabee gave a polite chuckle, which turned into a cough. “I assume you are here to collect me, madam?”

Nelee inclined her head, confirming his words. “I am indeed, Mr. Ashabee. But before I do, I was wondering if you had recognized any other important officials among the refugees.”

Ashabee’s face reflected his confusion and he shook his head. “I did not,” he offered. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, with the explosions, several key members of the government have not been located—including, unfortunately, King Maxen. But… our teams have yet to recover a body, so we’re hoping that, if he did manage to survive the assassination attempt and the explosions, he might have turned to those he knew for help.”

“I see,” Ashabee stated. “So… no one is certain that the king is actually dead? Because the refugees were certain he had died, and—”