The Gender War (The Gender Game #4)(67)

“I see I’ve said too much,” Nelee interjected coolly, cutting him off. “Mr. Ashabee, I hope you can understand—we don’t want to give anyone false hope. Just because his body hasn’t been recovered doesn’t mean it won’t be soon. We’re simply trying to explore every possibility, no matter how remote. I can assure you, the Matrian government is here to help your people recover from this terrible affair.”

“I completely understand,” Ashabee replied smoothly. “Please—whatever I can do to help, I am at your service.”

I had to admit, I was impressed. Ashabee had given the performance of a lifetime. His reactions and responses appeared so genuine. It might even have convinced me… although I still would’ve searched the place.

I held my breath, waiting to see if Nelee was that smart. “I appreciate that, sir. I have a second heloship waiting to carry us away, but may I have your permission to leave these wardens here, so that they can hand out food, water, and blankets? As well as give medical attention to those who need it?”

She was not just that smart. She was smarter. That was an amazing ploy, one that kept the Matrian bottom line while allowing her to work on her primary objective: locating the king. I saw Ashabee falter for a moment, surprise lighting up his features.

Then he smiled earnestly. “Of course,” he exclaimed. “I’m sure they would be most appreciative—we have food and water, of course, but it won’t last for long, I’m sure.”

“Well, it was very gracious of you to take them in,” Nelee said. “May I ask, how many refugees are there? Do you have specifics?”

“My valet Jefferies had the good mind to take down names, although to be honest, I have been dead asleep since our altercation.” He gave a self-depreciating laugh, which, surprisingly enough, caused Nelee to smile.

“Of course, I understand. We can speak with him to get the particulars.”

Ashabee nodded, and Nelee turned slightly, pressing a finger into her ear. “Bring the escort ship,” she ordered. Within moments, we could hear the sound of a second heloship’s engine drawing closer.

We waited for several more moments, watching the grass and bushes whipping around in the wind generated by the propellers. The ship landed, and Ashabee was escorted in by several wardens, not even sparing a glance back at the house. Another minute passed, and then the door closed up and the ship was airborne, heading toward the city—and the palace that sat overlooking it all.

Nelee had not boarded the escort ship, although she had conferred with some other Matrians as they ushered Ashabee on. She stood, peering into the sky and watching the heloship go, before turning back to the house, moving to the base of the steps. She seemed to consider something, her eyes narrowing. I could see the cold calculation in them, and I grudgingly recognized something of a kindred spirit in her—I could practically feel her mind moving, calculating all foreseeable outcomes.

A warden holding a rifle approached her. “I informed Command about the refugees,” she announced, her voice low but within range of the microphones.

Nelee said nothing, but her jaw twitched. “And?”

“They recommended the bravo contingency,” the woman supplied. “It was confirmed.”

Nelee still hadn’t stopped staring at the house, but I could see her mouth tighten further. I realized I was holding my breath, waiting for her decision.

“Then we should carry out the command,” she replied, almost tiredly. “Round everyone up. I want this clean: round them up to be detained only. Tell them it is routine and separate men, women, and children. Select the top sixty percent of the men for execution, but don’t do it in front of the others. We have our reputation to protect, after all.”

I looked over at Violet, and watched her face morph back into the diamond hardness from earlier. Her eyes met mine.

“Hide or fight?” I asked softly.

Violet clicked the safety off her gun and held it up. “Owen,” she whispered, and the blond man moved closer. I was surprised to see him—I hadn’t even noticed his arrival.

“What do you need?” he asked.

Violet’s eyes were on the monitor, watching as the wardens began to move closer together, presumably going over their plan to enter the house and passing out orders. Most of their voices were too far away to hear. “Make sure everyone is on the second floor,” Violet said. “I mean everyone. Then meet me at the top of the stairs. We don’t have a lot of time before they get in here.”

Owen nodded, then turned and ran for the stairs.





25





Violet





“C’mon,” I said to Viggo, turning away from the screen and heading swiftly toward the stairs. I heard his accompanying footsteps as he moved with me, synchronizing his pace with mine.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

I swallowed hard, trying not to be overwhelmed by the fact the Matrians probably outnumbered us four to one, if not five to one—who knew how many of them could fit inside that heloship?—and to focus instead on the essence of the problem. “We have to give them the first floor,” I said as we skirted a table holding a crystal vase filled with sweet-smelling flowers. “Too many windows and entryways for us to cover them all.”