The Gender War (The Gender Game #4)(68)

I caught his nod from the corner of my eye. “But there are what… four stairwells?”

“Yeah—the two servants’ stairs, the grand staircase, and the one for the guests. So with you, me, Owen, Ms. Dale, and Henrik, we should be able to cover them all, and our position will be more defendable.”

I waited for his response as we climbed the steps together. I wanted his approval, because then I would know it was the best plan we could hobble together on such short notice. Finally, Viggo nodded. “It’s sound—but we need to assign someone to keep an eye on the king.”

“Henrik, then,” I replied automatically. “He’s the best choice,” I added when I saw Viggo flash a curious look at me. “Owen would probably be good too, but then again… maybe not.”

Viggo paused, mid-step, and frowned. “Do you think Owen would kill the king?”

I shrugged. It didn’t seem likely—but I couldn’t explain it, I just felt that Henrik was a better choice for this particular job. “No,” I admitted. “I just think we should use Owen on the stairs.”

“What about Jay and Tim?” he asked, and I felt my heart race at the thought of involving the boys in an actual battle.

“They need to remain hidden.” I saw Viggo’s slight surprise, and I stopped, pulling in front of him. “These are trained Matrian wardens. I don’t want to put the boys in this kind of danger. I won’t be able to concentrate if I know they’re out there.”

Viggo was about to object—I could see it in his eyes. I knew he thought we should involve them more, but my heart just couldn’t take it. I had already put Tim in so much danger since I had found him. I couldn’t do it again. Especially in a fight like this.

“Please don’t,” I said. “We don’t have time for this argument. The only way for the boys to stay safe will be with the refugees and Maxen.”

Viggo said nothing, but nodded. We both started moving again at the same time.

Ms. Dale, Henrik, and Owen were waiting for us at the top of the stairs. I stepped back, and Viggo outlined the plan, as rail-thin as it was. I turned my mind to finding other ways out of this mess. As if by afterthought, I turned and stared out the huge windows opposite the staircase. They opened onto a massive balcony, which Ashabee must have used for parties and extravagant galas. All three walls were glass—allowing people a view of the inside as well as the grounds outside.

I kept one ear on what was being said, just in case someone offered up any other ideas, but stepped closer to the glass, watching as the drive began to come into view from my position. The closer I got, the better the view was. From here, I could see the heloship, and the Matrian wardens, dressed in brown with red armbands, moving in and out of it, hauling crates marked with words too far away to make out.

But what drew my gaze was the small corner of the trailer-truck that I could barely see beyond the balcony. It was parked too close to the house for me to see more than that, but it didn’t matter. I strode back to Viggo and the group.

“What if we let Solomon out?” I asked, cutting through their words. Silence met my declaration, and I waited.

“That’s crazy,” Owen whispered, meeting my gaze. “He’s not immune to bullets. And he has no way of distinguishing friend from foe.”

It was crazy—I knew that—but I also knew our plan was predicated upon none of us, not even one person, catching a bullet. Which seemed unlikely, considering the number of guns that we were up against. I hated to think of Solomon getting injured in his unstable state. But there had to be a way we could win this fight.

“How can we even get out there?” Ms. Dale asked—a good question. I took a deep breath and looked over my shoulder, back at the glass wall separating us from the outside.

“I’ll go over the balcony,” I said quietly. “I can stay low on top of the truck, and open it from the top. If I do it right, no one, not even Solomon, will see me.”

“No, Violet,” Viggo said, stepping on my words. “We need you at the stairwell. They’re going to ingress at any moment.”

“But, I—”

“No,” he replied sharply. “You’re still injured. And we can’t afford to lose you on a chance like this.”

Grudgingly, I realized that Viggo was right. Now was not the time to go rushing headlong into some rash idea. Especially not for a wildcard like Solomon—he could get hurt, or he could even hurt one of us.

“We can do it,” chimed in Jay’s voice. I turned to see Jay and Tim, who’d appeared out of the hallway to our left, watching us with grim faces.

Before I could open my mouth to say “no,” I could see the group of people around me responding positively to their idea. Heads were nodding around our little bunch. Viggo looked at me, his eyes assessing, as Ms. Dale murmured to the boys, “You two are probably the best people to do that, given your abilities. We really need all our options.”

“It would keep them out of the brunt of the fighting,” Viggo said, and I let out the breath I had been holding. I couldn’t stop this tide of assent, and time was against us.

“Okay,” I murmured. “Wait until the Matrians have moved in and started their attack. Move fast and don’t let them see you,” I told the boys, my heart heavy at their eager, determined grins. “And whatever you do, stay out of Solomon’s way. Make sure that truck can be closed up again. He isn’t in control of his own actions, and he’s incredibly dangerous.”