Also, who was Desmond, the person the letter was addressed to? Whoever he was, it was clear that he and Lee were close. Maybe he was part of a terrorist faction? Lee was an anarchist against both countries, but would he go as far as to join a terrorist group?
It wouldn’t surprise me if he would.
“Viggo?”
Violet reclaimed my attention. She was sitting up, looking at me, her eyes wide behind her mask. An immediate flash of anger slid into me. How dare she look so innocent, I thought with disgust, my mind turning back to the bombing.
I leapt off the root, my legs bent to absorb the impact. “Mrs. Bertrand,” I drawled sardonically, offering her a little bow.
She grew pale and flinched. “Don’t call me that,” she whispered.
“Oh? Why not? It might have been a ruse, but you were legally married, after all.”
Violet shook her head. “It was for the mission,” she said hoarsely.
“You mean the mission where you planted bombs and killed people?” I asked. I was being intentionally cruel, but my anger needed an outlet, and the source of my anger was here in front of me.
“I didn’t want all those people to die,” she rasped. “Lee planted extra bombs that I didn’t even know about until it was too late. I had no choice. You have to believe me.”
“Believe you? After you set me up to go down for your crime?”
Tears were starting to form in her eyes. “I tried to talk Lee out of it! I swear I tried. I was trapped.”
I scoffed at her. “Like I should believe you. I’ve seen your file, Violet. I know about all the people you hurt or killed before you even started this mission.”
Violet swallowed, tears still spilling from her gray eyes. “I know,” she said. “I’m a murderer… and even those I don’t murder who are involved with me end up dying. The queen, Alastair, Lee, the girl in school and in the prison… everyone who touches me dies.”
I frowned, unprepared for her response. She continued, staring at her hands. “I’m toxic. I’m poison. Y-You need to stay away from me!”
I shook my head. “Oh no, Violet. I’m here to bring you back to answer for your crimes.”
Violet stood up, her knees shaky. “I’m not going back with you,” she exclaimed. “I may be responsible for those lab deaths, but I didn’t actually commit them. I’ve been a pawn in someone else’s game for too long. I’m not going back.”
“The hell you aren’t,” I growled.
She took a step back, raising her arm. “Don’t, Viggo! Please, don’t.”
I examined her. She was trembling, probably still weak from the venom and the lack of food. I hesitated, feeling a thread of disgust worm in through my anger. I was scaring her.
Instantly, I wanted to kneel down in front of her and comfort her. She looked so afraid, it was hard for me to believe that it wasn’t an act. I turned around for a second, collecting myself. My anger was overriding me. I needed to slow down and gain some perspective.
There was a long silence between us, and finally, I broke it, turning back around toward her. “Sit down. You need to eat something.”
I was surprised that she actually sat and I moved over to my backpack, pulling out a few tins. I used grabbing them as a distraction, so I could slip a pair of cuffs into my pocket without her noticing. She’d balk if she saw them, and I was not in the mood to overpower a girl who was recovering from the brink of death.
I handed her one of the tins, which she snatched out of my hands. I watched with a mixture of revulsion and fascination at how quickly she gobbled it down. I knew she’d be hungry waking up, but not that hungry. She asked for another one, but I shook my head. “Wait for that to settle. We have a limited supply and I want to make sure you’re not going to vomit it up before I give you the next one.”
I handed her the water and watched her take long pulls from it. Once again, I took it away from her before she was willing to stop. She accepted it though and, after wiping her mouth, she lowered the mask back to her face.
“Thank you,” she said. I nodded, setting the water canteen on the ground in front of me. Samuel decided to remind her that he was there, by placing his head in her lap. She made a cooing sound, and began rubbing his head. He squirmed into her lap, his tongue lolling, and I felt an irrational surge of jealousy toward the dog.
“How did you find me?” she asked as she rubbed Samuel’s belly.
“Tracker technology,” I replied.
“What? Via the tracker Lee put on me?” She frowned hard. “He said he removed that software from his computer.”
“It seems your husband couldn’t be bothered.”
She flinched. “Please don’t call him that.”
“Why not?” I taunted. “You were married.”
Violet narrowed her gray eyes as she looked at me. “I understand that you’re angry with me for my part in the bombing, and setting you up, but there is no need to be cruel, Viggo.” Her tone was icy. “Be angry, don’t be cruel.”
I considered her words and knew she was right. I tried to convince myself that I didn’t care if she found me cruel, but it didn’t work. I did care.
That was the whole damn problem.
“Fine,” I said begrudgingly. She inclined her head to me in a wordless thank you, and I tipped mine back at her. “So, explain to me what happened.”
Violet’s eyes met mine, her face guarded. “Well, it seems like you know a great deal. I’m guessing you read Lee’s letter?” I nodded. She pressed her lips together in a thin line. “Well, I had no idea about most of it. The bombs, yes, but I didn’t know so many people would get hurt. I never realized how good at lying he was.”
“Who’s Desmond?” I asked.
Violet shrugged. “That’s Lee’s middle name. Do you know Lee’s story?”
I shook my head.
“Lee’s mother was from Matrus,” she explained, “his father from Patrus, and he was born on a boat in the middle of Veil River. His mother gave him the middle name of Desmond. I think he was writing to himself.”
I frowned, mulling that over. “You think he had two personalities?”
“It’s the only thing I can think of—I think he went insane and was trying to punish the two countries that wouldn’t accept him.”
“But they did accept him,” I said. “Matrus trusted him to spy for them, and Patrus obviously believed his patriotism. He could’ve done anything for either of them.”
“He felt like a pawn, Viggo. I get that feeling, even if I don’t agree with what he did.” She cast me a sidelong glance. “So should you,” she added softly.
My jaw clenched at her declaration. I ignored her small jab, focusing on the task at hand. “Why did you come here, Violet?”
She sighed, and rubbed the back of her neck. “Lee and I… well, when I discovered he had killed the queen and Mr. Jenks, I went to confront him. He was already taking off on that stupid flying motorcycle, so I… I grabbed on. We fought, and then he tried to drag me off. I upset his balance and he fell. I killed him. After that… I just sort of… I don’t know. I was in shock. I had read his letter, and opened the egg, and –”
“You opened the egg?” I interrupted.
She nodded, pulling out the key that hung around her throat. “Yeah.”
I stood up, holding out my hand for the key. Violet eyed me warily, her gray eyes searching mine. Eventually, she folded, and untied the cloth securing it to her neck.
I walked over to the silver case, and fit the key to the hole. There was a hissing sound, and then it opened. I stared at the orange colored case, and at the small, barely formed embryo for a long moment, and then turned to Violet, who shrugged.
After several seconds of examining the strange embryo and the container, I pulled the key, sealing it up. Violet looked at me expectantly when I approached, and I returned the key to her, not wanting her to end her story prematurely.
She took the two ends of her makeshift necklace in her hands and began securing it
to her neck while she continued, “Anyway, Lee was heading north, and I didn’t know how to fly the damn thing. I crashed into The Green, got bitten by a centipede and… well… you know the rest.”
“Why were you heading back south?”
Violet shrugged. “I figured… I figured out the bite was venomous and I decided to bargain the egg with Matrus for a cure. And for my brother.”
“And if you hadn’t been bitten?”
She tilted her chin up. “I would’ve carried on north. To find my brother.”
I had heard enough. It was a pretty convenient story, but it was just that—a story. There were enough elements of truth to it to make it believable, but I wasn’t hearing them. She had betrayed me, and cost innocent people their lives, no matter what her regrets were.
I stood up and crossed over to her, ignoring the feeling of how wrong I was in doing what I was about to do. I’d been sent out here to retrieve her and the egg, and that was what I was going to accomplish. It was far easier than dwelling on what she had told me right then.
“Violet Bates Bertrand, you are under arrest on the authority of King Maxen of Patrus,” I announced, slipping the cuffs on her wrists before she could stop me.
14
Violet
The rope stretched between my cuffed hands and Viggo’s hand like a leash as we walked. Sweat poured down my skin in rivulets, and I was practically gasping for air as he marched me through The Green like a dog. Samuel gave a yip, bounding between us, reminding me that I was being treated worse than a dog.
Suddenly furious, I gave a vicious tug of the rope. Viggo’s grip was strong, so I barely moved his arm from where he clutched it. He turned, and from under his mask I could see the muscle in his jaw twitching. For a second, I wanted to punch him in that exact spot.
Since slipping the handcuffs on me, Viggo hadn’t said two words to me. Oh, I had struggled after he put the cuffs on me. I had tried to run, tried to fight, but I was still weak from the venom that had laid me out. There was no way I was getting away from him in this condition.
I was still baffled by his sudden change in demeanor. He had seemed to be listening to me as I told my story. I tried to keep it short and succinct, and he had still arrested me! He was still dragging me back to Patrus, where a noose would be waiting for me in the public gallows.
I was struck by how unfair the situation was. That feeling had intensified as the day went on, until I was practically seething with rage, like a teapot about to blow. I wondered if I had been a man, if Viggo would believe me. I dismissed the thought as soon as it came to me. The only reason Viggo was so mad was because I had kissed him.
Viggo tugged the rope, urging me to move. Defiantly, I tugged it back, my limbs shaking from the exertion from walking for the last two hours. Samuel ran through my legs and then lay down, panting, his eyes on Viggo.
Viggo took a long, hard look at us. Spitting out a curse, he walked the distance between us, pulling something out of his pocket and thrusting it into my hands. Looking down, I saw the canteen. Parched, I opened it. It was hard with my hands bound together, but I managed. Then, as I lifted the canteen up, I realized that it was next to impossible to take off my mask. If I did it while holding the canteen, all the water would spill out of it. If I did it with the canteen closed, I would be holding my breath for a long time in a toxic atmosphere.
Frowning, I looked at Viggo. I was going to have to ask him to help me and I really didn’t want to. My pride wouldn’t allow it—especially since he was acting like a domineering and arrogant… well… Patrian.
Defiantly, I replaced the cap, and tossed it back to him. He caught it out of the air deftly, frowning at me. I gave him my best rebellious face, even though my throat was desperate for water. He shrugged and began walking again.
This was the extent of our communication. He tugged the rope and I staggered on, cursing myself and him for being idiots.
I needed the water if I was going to get away from him. I needed to keep my strength up. Not taking it was only hurting me, not him.
Get it together, Vi, I told myself as I stepped over a log.
The wound on my leg twitched as I stretched too far to get over the log, and I gave an involuntary gasp at the twinge of pain as I felt the skin stretch under the bandage.
Viggo was immediately there, his green eyes blazing behind the clear plastic of his mask.
“What happened?” he demanded, his hands reaching out to steady me.
I gaped at him, as he uttered the first words he’d spoken to me for hours. It was tempting to ignore him like he’d been ignoring me, but I was too concerned about my wound. I put aside my pride.
“My leg, I might have…”
He immediately reached down and started unbuttoning my pants. Eyes wide, I jerked back out of his hands.
“What are you doing?”
Viggo gave a sigh, like his patience was being tried. “It’s not exactly the time to be prudish. I need to see your thigh. That means the pants come down.”
It was irrational, I knew, but I did not want Viggo taking my pants off. The fact that he had already done so while I was unconscious was upsetting. The logical part of my brain knew that it needed to be done, but the emotional part was unwilling to bend.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. Viggo’s face grew determined, and I took another step back. “Viggo, I said no.”
He advanced, his face a mask of grim determination. My heart started to pound as he stalked toward me like a predator. I knew I should be afraid, but the sight of him moving toward me like that made me feel… excited.
That scared me more than anything.
Without meaning to, I held up my hands to fend him off, turning my face away. “Please Viggo,” I said, my voice coming out high-pitched and shaky. Samuel suddenly appeared between us, his fur on end and a growl trickling between his lips.
He stopped a few feet away from me. I risked a glance at him, and I saw him looking down at the dog, and then his clenched hands. He looked up at me, and I could see the uncertainty in his eyes. I was trembling, unwanted tears forming in my eyes.
Viggo’s face softened—that was the only way I could describe it. It was like watching a massive storm melt away into a beautiful sunset.
“I’m sorry, Violet,” he said, his voice thick. “I shouldn’t have…”
I nodded, unable to force words out of the huge lump in my throat.
He took a step closer, his hands up with palms out. “I really do need to check your wound,” he said carefully, his voice calm and even. For a moment, I wondered if this was how humans sounded to wounded animals, until I remembered, I was a wounded animal.
I exhaled sharply, and inhaled, remembering how the simple act of breathing had helped calm me for the past few days, and nodded to him.
He let me unbutton my own pants. It was difficult, but it gave me a sense of control over the situation. Then he helped me slip them over my hip, pulling them down to the wound on my thigh. He went to one knee, examining the bandage, his fingers pressing on the edge to make sure it was still sealed.
There was something intimate about him being down there, his face inches away from my thigh, but I pushed it aside. I fixed my eyes on anything else. Samuel came up from the other side, and I reached down to pet him. It was awkward, but it kept me from seeing how exposed and vulnerable I was to Viggo.
He inspected the bandage for a few more seconds, and then helped me slip my pants on. All and all, the inspection lasted less than two minutes. It had felt like longer. I was allowed to button my pants back up, and re-tie my makeshift knot.
We stood there awkwardly for a few seconds longer and then Viggo handed me the canteen. I looked at him, but there was no challenge in his eyes. I opened the canteen, and when I wordlessly nodded that I was ready, he lifted the mask off my face. I drank the water quickly, trying not to breathe too much. Once I was finished, he replaced the mask and I closed the canteen, handing it back to him.
He
removed his own mask and took a long swig, and then poured some in his cupped hand, offering it to Samuel. After our water break was finished, he straightened up.
“C’mon,” he muttered, picking up the rope from where he had dropped it on the ground. “We need to keep moving.”
I frowned, but started walking behind him. As we walked, my mind churned over what to do with Viggo. I had tried for honesty, but it was clear he didn’t believe me. But then he had shown genuine care for me.
His behavior was contradictory and confusing, and it was very frustrating to try to understand, especially since he wasn’t talking to me. The truth was that I was angry. Furious really. I had never expected to see Viggo again, but now that he was here, with the truth in front of him… I didn’t even know what he was thinking.
I’d taken all that I could stand. I planted my feet and stopped as we neared the slope of a dip in the forest. Viggo didn’t notice my pause, initially, until the rope swinging between us pulled taut. I held my ground, pulling back against it. He spun, irritation across his features.
“Why are you stopping?” he demanded.
“I want to talk,” I replied in a manner that I hoped sounded calm and collected.
“You’ve said enough, Violet.”
“I’ve only told you the truth, Viggo.”
He rolled his eyes and closed the distance between us until he was looming over me. I kept my face expressionless, which was hard considering how imposing his size really was.
“The truth,” he said mockingly. “And what am I supposed to believe? The crazy story that Lee betrayed his country even though he had no reason to?"
“You read his letter—”
“Or a girl who’s a criminal? Who betrayed me!?” he barreled on, his face in a sneer. “Which one is more believable to you, Violet? What is the more likely scenario?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You arrogant, egotistical, misogynistic… Patrian,” I spat. “Trained to believe that every word coming out of a woman’s mouth is a lie or a manipulation.”
The Gender Game 2: The Gender Secret Page 9
