“Be careful, Violet,” she said and I nodded, pulling the hood of my stolen jacket up over my head.
“You too,” I murmured.
I watched as she too disappeared into the crowd, leaving me alone by the temple steps. Our plan was crude, but we had no other options. Viggo would patrol the area where the men were, and I would be down in the main part of the temple, keeping an eye out for Owen as well. Our plan was to confront Owen and try to draw him outside. I had been adamant about not hurting him if we could avoid it, and everyone had agreed.
It went unspoken that if we couldn’t get him to see reason, we would have to kill him. It was a harsh reality, but as I stared at the undulating crowd of women and children, I realized it was the only way. I couldn’t let Owen kill all these people.
I went in with the crowd, keeping my pace moderate and my eyes moving. Most of the women were wearing ceremonial robes—pristine white gowns that were modestly pinned together at one shoulder. At the steps of the temple, there was a growing pile of trinkets that women were placing into a small natural pool of water that flowed from the cracks of the cliff face, collecting at the base.
The tradition had been started during the first ceremony of the moon, when Queen Natasha had pulled a beautiful blue stone out and called it her hopes for the future of Matrus. She had placed it in the waters, and asked that the waters that had sustained them thus far to also help sustain her dreams for the future.
Now, many women participated in the ritual, dropping items that they had carried with them throughout the year. According to tradition and belief, if their hearts were pure and intentions good, the waters would find their greatest hope and grant it to them.
I watched as a little barefoot girl stepped up to the fountain and kissed a small porcelain doll she was holding. She placed it in the waters, bowed at the pool, and then skipped back over to where her mother was waiting. The woman took the little girl’s hand and disappeared into the temple.
Steel slid into my spine as I continued through the crowd.
The mouth of the cave had been widened during the years, painstakingly chiseled out by hand. It was now wide enough to fit ten people standing side by side. I made my way up the steps, moving around women who were chatting or waiting for someone.
The cave mouth stretched inward for ten feet, the sunlight from outside illuminating the brown and black stones that glistened. I could see the line of men standing behind a cordon of rope, waiting to be led down to the balcony at the back of the chamber. I couldn’t see Viggo, but I knew he’d be able to make it down all right.
I followed a group of women down the natural spiraling staircase. The light from outside quickly disappeared as we made our way down, but torches had been lit and placed in sconces, which helped illuminate our way.
I gave a brief glance to each woman who was wearing a more modern outfit, just in case Owen had somehow managed to slip in on the women’s side, but he wasn’t among them. Still, I didn’t let go of my hope that we would find him. We had to. I couldn’t bring myself to consider the alternative.
The stairs went down forty feet before ending in a circular chamber. As I moved off the last step onto the landing, I stared. I had forgotten how beautiful this room was. A massive chandelier hung almost twenty feet overhead, with thousands of candles illuminating the ceiling above. The ceiling was photo-luminescent, so the light being generated by the candles caused the ceiling to glow in soft blues and purples. Alternating red and purple tiles cut in a hexagonal pattern circled the floor. Inside of it, smaller, multi-colored tiles had been cut in creams, whites, grays, and blues, forming a mosaic of the Mother.
The Mother was a symbolic image of femininity, one that encapsulated the ideals of what made women great. I remembered when my mom had taken me up to the highest gallery and had me look at it from above.
In one arm, the Mother cradled her infant, while in her opposite hand, she wielded a stone. She stood resolute, determined, ready to destroy anyone who harmed her baby. She was strong, feminine, brave, and wise.
I made my way to the center of the room, standing over the Mother’s heart, and looked around. Suddenly, three large thumps sounded, and a bell chimed. Immediately, everyone dropped to their knees. I knelt down a second later, keeping my eyes low as the queen descended the steps. Each step she took was sounded by a chime and I could hear the whisper of the fabric of her long train as she moved.
We all kept our eyes down. No woman was to lay eyes on her from when she entered the temple until she waded into the pool just under the waterfall, stripping her dress off and allowing the waters that sustained her to bless her, which, symbolically, meant Matrus.
Elena’s arrival was a bad sign since it meant that Ms. Dale had failed to get her warning to her in time. I kept my eyes down, but didn’t close them in prayer. Instead, I looked around, studying each of the women who knelt around me, their eyes closed and their lips moving.
About halfway down the stairs, a high, undulating cry went up, and the women started to sing, their voices rising in the cave in a harmonious beseeching of the moon to grant all women blessings of good fortune. The song grew steadily as Elena made her way down the stairs.
Once she reached the bottom, the singing stopped, and a hush fell on everyone. There was another whisper of fabric as she slowly disrobed.
“Mothers, daughters,” she said, her voice ringing out like a bell. “As I step into the pool of water that sustained us during our exodus, I make my body into a vessel, ready to absorb the wisdom of the Mother.”
“The Mother,” everyone echoed reverently.
“The Mother who guides us, grants us strength, gives us patience, and teaches us to be brave. It is in her name that we beseech—guide us through the next year. Make us prosperous, dear Mother, and help guide us from the darkness of oppression to the light of freedom.”
“In her image,” the celebrants concluded.
There was a sound of water splashing. I could hear the water shifting as she moved to the waterfall. Then came several sounds of her grunting as she sought out handholds in the rock face, climbing up to a boulder that stood directly under the waterfall. She didn’t make a sound as the frigid water pelted her skin.
“Mother!” Elena cried, and I pictured her standing on the boulder, her arms uplifted and head tilted back as she beseeched the Mother on behalf of her people. “I am not a perfect woman. I have been in turmoil over those I have lost in the last year—my own mother and sisters have fallen in pursuit of your image. Please, grant me the strength to lead these great women in their stead. Please, grant me the wisdom to keep our enemies at bay. And if all else fails, grant me the bravery to stand up to those who would do us harm, so that I may serve my sisters in my duties to them.”
“Bless her, Mother!” the assembly cried.
Just then, an angry shout sounded in the hall and I opened my eyes and looked up toward the balcony containing the men. I could see a few bewildered faces as two men pushed through, grappling with each other.
I rose from my knees and gazed up, seeing Viggo and Owen struggling with each other over a bag Owen was clinging to tightly. Viggo said something to Owen that I couldn’t make out, and Owen shook his head, pulling harder. Other women were starting to stand, pointing at the fight between the two men. I, however, was fixated on the bag. That was where the bomb was.
“Bomb!” I exploded, pointing up at the balcony. “Bomb! Run!”
It took a moment for my words to register, but when they did, the room erupted in panic, everyone screaming as they fled for the stairs. I caught a glimpse of Elena as she was grabbed by several wardens and whisked up the stairs.
Viggo grunted and I switched my attention back to the gallery, watching the scene unfold. Viggo had managed to wrest the bag away from Owen, but Owen wasn’t giving up. Raising his hands in desperation, he shoved Viggo hard. Viggo stumbled toward the rail, his hip hitting it hard. Owen raced closer and shoved again.
“NO!” I
screamed as Viggo teetered on the edge, clutching the bag to his chest. I watched in horror as his weight shifted impossibly out over the balcony, his feet coming off the ground as he started to fall. I felt another scream building in my throat as I took a step toward him, when Viggo’s hand snaked out, grabbing a stone jutting out just below the banister.
He dangled by his fingertips while Owen cursed and turned to flee. I kept my gaze on Viggo and looked around for some way to help him get down. I ignored the cries and shoves of the women who were still fighting to get to the stairs and looked up, my eyes resting on the chandelier.
“Viggo,” I rasped. “Can you make it to the chandelier?”
Viggo grunted, his arm flexing as he painstakingly swung his body around to look at it. “Needs to be lower,” he called back, and I could hear the strain in his voice, which spurred me into action. Starting at the chandelier, I looked at the thick length of rope suspending it in the air and followed the line down. I raced over to the wall, grabbing several women and dragging them along with me.
“Help me,” I yelled at them, grabbing the rope. I held it taut while the women tentatively unwrapped it from the peg suspending it in place. Luckily, the chandelier was lifted and lowered using a pulley system, but I was glad that I had grabbed them—it was still heavy.
Together, we slowly let out the rope, dropping it down further and further. I shot a glance at Viggo over my shoulder, keeping an eye on him as he watched the chandelier. “That’s good,” he shouted. “Hold it there, and get ready for some more weight.”
The other women looked at me and I met their inquisitive gaze with a no-nonsense one of my own. “Just do it,” I ordered, and they nodded. Several other women noticed what we were doing and came over, grabbing lengths of rope and bracing themselves.
I heard Viggo grunt and the sound of shoes scraping on stones. The rope shivered from the impact of his body. “Go, Violet,” he shouted, and I gritted my teeth, nodding to the others.
“Slowly,” I commanded, using one foot to brace myself on the wall as we let the rope out a few inches at a time. My forearms were straining and my shoulders ached, but I felt relieved when I heard the sounds of boots hitting the ground. We lowered the chandelier the rest of the way to the ground before I whirled around and launched myself at Viggo, binding my arms around him. He held the bag away from his body, but wrapped one strong arm around my shoulders.
“We’re okay,” he wheezed. “And… we got the bomb.”
I snatched the bag out of his hands and opened it. The same material Owen and I had scraped off of the columns in the facility had been packed tightly into the bag, a silver detonator leading to a digital clock that was counting down. There were five minutes on the clock, much to my relief. I pressed the edges of the clay around the timer down and peeked under it, checking for any additional detonators or wires underneath.
“I’m going to pull the detonator,” I said, before looking up at him. “Just in case I’m wrong… I love you.”
His lips twitched in a smile. “Yes I know. Just pull it.”
I rolled my eyes at his arrogance and then slowly, carefully, slid the silver pin out. I exhaled in relief when nothing happened, and then looked at Viggo. “Okay, now carefully pull the timer out. Slowly.”
Viggo grabbed the timer and did as I asked. I pressed my cheek against the clay so I could triple check that there wasn’t a secondary detonator, and breathed a second sigh of relief when it came up easily. Viggo pulled it one way while I pulled the bag another, and we both carefully took a step back and lowered our respective items to the ground, several feet apart.
Once the bomb was out of my hands, I threw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his waist.
“We did it,” he said, nuzzling the top of my head.
I snuggled against his chest. “I knew we would.”
Viggo reached for my chin. Panning my face upward, he’d lowered his head for a kiss when something hard slammed into both of us, knocking us to the ground.
It took me a moment to realize that a pair of wardens had hit us, one of whom was now on top of me with a knee planted in the small of my back.
“What are you doing?” I exclaimed, trying to twist around to look her in the eye. “We stopped the bomb! We saved everyone!”
“Quiet!” the woman on top of me ordered, her hand going to the back of my head and gripping my hair to still me.
I looked over at Viggo, who was also struggling. But he didn’t get an order for silence when he started to break free. The warden on him made a tsking sound, stood up quickly, and kicked him in the face so hard his head snapped back and he fell to the ground unconscious.
I started screaming and struggling, trying to claw my way over to him. The woman who’d kicked Viggo looked at me, then back to him, and shook her head, pulling a pistol out.
“Sister,” she said, and my screams died in my throat as she aimed her gun purposefully at Viggo. “Come quietly or I will execute this man here and now, temple property be damned.”
I had no choice but to stop struggling and let the wardens take me.
40
Violet
Every part of my body was shaking as I paced the length of the cell I had been shoved into. I felt agitated, both mentally and physically, and pacing was the only way to keep in the screams that were building in my throat.
I had been in the cell for hours. Viggo had been taken somewhere else after we had arrived at the palace. He had been unconscious when I last saw him, blood streaming from a cut in his forehead. I had done my best to explain everything on the ride over, but the wardens were stone-faced, content to let me talk until my voice gave out.
I couldn’t be more grateful that we had convinced Tim and Jay to stay on the boat with Alejandro and the eggs. We’d known that there was a good chance we would get caught, which made it important to keep the eggs out of the situation. We’d kept them in reserve, as a backup plan if this didn’t go well.
The door swung open and a warden stepped into the prison chamber, making her way to my cell.
“What’s going on?” I asked as she slipped the key into the door. She looked at me, her blue eyes stoic and flat. I took a step back from the bars, turning around and dropping my arms behind my back.
The cell door swung open. Grabbing me just above my elbow, she marched me out and through the open door on the other side of the room.
We were in the royal palace, and as I stepped into the hall, I felt a tug of déjà vu. It hadn’t been that long since I had last been here, and nothing had changed. The warden guided me up several flights of stairs, to the very topmost level of the palace. I passed by the portraits of Queen Rina and her daughters, taking a moment to gaze at Elena’s profile, before I was shoved into a familiar office.
My stomach clenched at the memory of Queen Rina and Mr. Jenks’ lifeless bodies sitting in the now-empty chairs in front of the table. Instinctively, my eyes went to the table to see if Lee’s words were still there. Of course they weren’t—the surface had been sanded down and re-stained.
A solitary figure stood by a window, staring out at the city below. Queen Elena. She was clothed now, her blonde hair coifed in curling waves artfully pinned into place. I heard the wisp of skirts as she turned, her hands folded over her abdomen.
As I met the new queen’s gaze, I felt a rush of excitement. This was my chance to explain what had happened and try to get a way out for me and Viggo. Stepping forward, I offered her a bow, noting the look of surprised pleasure on her face.
“Hello, Ms. Bates,” Queen Elena said, her voice soft. “Please, have a seat.” She held out an arm toward one of the chairs on my side of the table, and after a moment’s hesitation, I sat down.
She moved over to her own chair, opposite me, and seated herself, smoothing the front of her dress with both hands before resting her arms on the table.
“You know, Violet, I have been thinking a lot the last few hours, and I have to say, you are a rather fascinating
subject to think about.”
“Your majesty, please… where is Viggo Croft? Is he… is he all right?”
Elena smiled and leaned back in her chair, watching me. “Such devotion to a Patrian… how I admire that.”
I frowned, unsure of what she was talking about. Leaning forward, I tried a different route. “Your majesty, you have to understand—he’s innocent. We both are. We saved the ceremony.”
“No, actually, what you did is what you have been doing all along—annoying me with setbacks,” she announced, standing up. “You see, I had a plan, but then you came along, and kept forcing me to adapt it.”
I gaped at her as she moved over to a rope hanging from the ceiling and pulled it once. The doors behind me swung open, and I stared as a woman with a familiar face marched in with an unconscious person slung over her shoulder. I watched as Ms. Dale was deposited on one of the couches with a grunt.
Straightening, the familiar woman rotated her neck and then looked at the queen. I recognized her as Tabitha, second in line for succession. She was muscular, her limbs and neck bulging, while Elena was slender, like a willow reed.
“Thank you, Tabitha,” Elena said. “And now… Desmond?”
My jaw dropped as Desmond appeared, seemingly from nowhere, in front of the queen. “As always, my dear girl, it is an honor to serve,” she said, bowing deeply.
Elena smiled and embraced the older woman, placing her forehead against Desmond’s in a sign of complete trust. Then Elena broke from her, coming around the table to sit back down.
I stared at Desmond as she moved behind Elena and leaned against a shelf.
“I… I don’t understand,” I said, shifting my gaze between the two women.
Desmond threw me a piteous look while Elena gave me a feline grin. “Violet, you’ve seen the facility,” the queen said. “You know what Mother and Mr. Jenks did to me and my sisters.” I nodded and she continued. “Do you know what gift I was given?”
The Gender Lie (The Gender Game #3) Page 25
