The Gender War (The Gender Game #4)(88)

“Good luck, Viggo,” Jeff murmured, breaking out of his rigid role for a moment to stare beseechingly at me. “Please bring her back.”

“I will,” I said, and then terminated the call.

I turned to the man in the passenger’s seat, tossing him the handheld. “Owen, take a look at those maps of the farmlands we’ve been using. Find us the quickest route back to the city.”

“What are you going to do?” Owen asked.

I looked at the speedometer, which we’d just pushed past a hundred miles per hour on a backcountry lane.

“Drive.”





33





Violet





I stared at the three-dimensional computer model Thomas had rendered on the high-tech table in the middle of the heloship, my eyes wide as I took in all the aspects of King Maxen’s palace. Thomas had been delighted to see what he called a ‘hologram projector’, and he’d worked his magic with the graphics coming out of the glowing tabletop, changing the color of certain rooms to reflect each individual’s role in our plan. The palace was set aside from the rest of Patrus city, on its own little island—Crescent River acting as a moat in front of it, the mountains looming behind it. It was designed as a group of turreted square buildings and walls interlocking around a series of outdoor courtyards, each one fitting inside the last. I was trying to memorize every last bit of it.

I straightened up and ran my hand over my face. I felt a pang of longing for Viggo—I wanted him here, if only to reassure me that this plan was going to work. The pang quickly turned to one of regret and worry, and I was forced to push it aside, keeping my mind on the task ahead. I had chosen this. And it would work, I reminded myself.

It had to work.

I looked over to where King Maxen sat, still bound to one of the command area’s drop-down seats, still glaring at me. We’d tried removing his makeshift gag at the beginning of the flight, but he’d started screaming obscenities and useless commands at us as soon as we’d freed his mouth, so we’d had to tie the gag right back on again.

Looking over to Thomas, I gave him a nod, and he shut off the holographic part of the table, causing the glowing lights on the tabletop to flicker and grow dark, reverting to a black onyx screen. Amber sat in the pilot’s seat of the heloship, although currently her back was to the wide vistas of land that drifted in front of us, far enough away that Patrus looked like a quaint quilt, not a nation being torn apart by bombs and treachery. Looking down for too long gave me vertigo, but on the whole, the flight felt too smooth for all the tension that had me wired—smooth enough that Amber had allowed the craft’s autopilot to guide us for the last ten minutes.

“What are our chances, Tom-Tom?” she asked wearily, her forehead and eyes pressed into the palm of her hand.

Thomas hesitated. “You don’t want to know, Amber,” he replied, disconnecting his heavily modified handheld from the console. “They’re better with me here to strategize, but worse because we’re so short-handed.”

I ignored his accusatory gaze and looked at Amber, grateful again that she’d decided to accompany me. “We really can’t do this without you,” I said, and she pulled her hand off her face and shot me a sharp glare.

“I wouldn’t let you do it without me,” she stated, her tone matter of fact. “I just like knowing the odds.”

“Oh, well in that case it’s—”

“Let’s not,” I said, interrupting Thomas. I checked my watch and sighed. It had been about half an hour since we left the compound. It had taken us too long to prepare at the mansion, but we were still ahead of schedule—a little less than thirty minutes from the palace. I remained restless, even though we were making use of our time by preparing our materials while we flew.

The hologram projector having been turned back into a regular table, we emptied our black duffel bags onto it, spreading out the items Amber and I had swiped from Ashabee’s stash. We carefully sorted the items, setting them up in accordance with Thomas’ instructions. We worked quickly and efficiently, and the silence was loud, punctuated only by the small sounds of us working. It was too quiet, in fact, and I found my thoughts returning to Viggo—wondering whether he’d gotten my message yet. And all those stupid mushy things I’d said… Maybe they felt hollow to him now. How could he accept that I had left without him, that I wanted him to stay behind? And yet, how could I have done anything different?

I set down the brick of explosives I’d been working with and leaned on the table, trying to even out my breathing. It was too late to turn back, I reminded myself. I exhaled slowly and straightened back up. Amber was staring at me, her gaze curious. “You miss him,” she said softly as she pulled a threaded needle through the button of one of my shirts.

It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t bother answering. Instead, I turned the conversation to her. “How’d you learn to fly?”

Amber grew still under my gaze. After a moment, she licked her lips and continued to work. “My father had a pilot—he operated heloships as well as helicopters. He’d been training to be a warden, one of the king’s guard, but he… he quit and ended up working for my dad. He rarely got to fly with all the restrictions, so he was always around, just waiting for an opportunity to get up there again. I used to ask him questions all the time about what it was like… He was brilliant. I could listen to him for hours.”