“You sure you don’t want to do this for me?” he asked, giving me a look from under the spectacles perched on his nose. He needed them for reading now —we weren’t entirely sure why—and I never complained.
“I’m just your bodyguard,” I replied. “You got elected chancellor—you even got to run in the official election! Clearly, you wanted the job.”
He smiled, taking off his glasses and putting the papers down, sliding over to close the distance between us.
“Want me to quit?” he asked as he drew closer, his voice a low rumble that still had a devastating effect on me. I let out a shuddering breath and turned toward him, my hands going to his shoulders as he leaned closer.
“You’re going to wrinkle my dress,” I murmured, and he smirked.
“Good—you shouldn’t look so gorgeous in your dress. You’re going to take everyone’s attention off the main event, and if I know Morgan, she’s not going to like it.”
He took my hips and pulled me over, his mouth dropping to my neck and placing soft kisses against my sensitive skin. I couldn’t help it—a moan escaped me, and I flinched when I saw the driver’s eyes flick to the mirror and look directly at me, before turning back down.
“Viggo,” I giggled and squirmed, pushing against his shoulders. “Please! The driver!”
He grumbled and pulled back, an irritated expression on his face.
“I never should’ve become chancellor. We could be alone in our mountain cabin right now, minding our own business and—”
“Oh, come on, you know you love this,” I chided him. “Not being in charge—but you like helping people, and this is the best way of doing it. So calm down, my love. Besides… we’d still be here today, even if you weren’t the chancellor.”
He opened his mouth, and then shut it. “Fair point,” he said, returning to his seat.
On impulse, I leaned across the seat and grabbed the lapels of his suit, pulling his face to mine for a slow, loving kiss.
“I do wish we were in the cabin too, though,” I murmured softly, for his ears only, and I was rewarded with a smoldering look, promising that when we got back to our rooms later that evening, we were going to finish what he had started.
The rest of our drive took place in comfortable silence, and I started collecting my things as the car turned and began heading up a slight incline, the houses and shops stopping a few hundred feet away from the entrance of the temple.
I didn’t wait for the driver to let me out—I never did—and came around the car to Viggo’s side just as he was stepping out. Even though he didn’t like it, I was still his bodyguard. I was going to be his bodyguard for at least another month or two, before my pregnancy became too obvious and the council put in the request for me to go on leave. But that was for another day.
It didn’t matter—I was also his wife, which meant I went with him everywhere. I was the best suited to keeping him safe for that reason alone, and they would just have to deal with the fact that I was more than comfortable in both roles. And when I became a mother, I would be comfortable in three.
Viggo took my hand as I slid around the car, and we walked up the smooth stone steps toward the cave mouth. We were early, but people were already forming in massive crowds. I kept close to Viggo, my eyes scanning the crowd, looking for any sign of hostile movement.
My gaze passed over a familiar face in my scrutiny, and I paused, dragging my gaze back over and staring. It couldn’t be her.
Then she saw me looking, and her eyes went wide, a broad smile crossing her freckled face. She lifted her hand slightly, and I couldn’t stop myself.
“Josefine?” I said, taking a step over to where the crowd of people were standing behind a cordoned-off line. The general masses would be let in soon, but for now, only state officials and royalty were allowed into the caves.
“Violet!” she shouted, and after a moment of hesitation, she ducked under the rope and raced over to me.
I heard one of the wardens shout in warning as the young girl raced over, and I quickly held up my hands.
“IT’S OKAY!” I shouted loudly. “I know her!”
A man and a woman were calling Josefine’s name in panicked tones, but she ignored them, her small shoes clicking against the stone as she approached.
“Violet?” Viggo asked, giving me a questioning look.
“It’s Josefine,” I reminded him. “She was… a girl I knew at Merrymount Mill. I didn’t think I’d ever see her again.”
Josefine stopped just short of me and pushed a hand through the curly ginger hair on her head. Her bangs had grown out, and she was definitely taller. She cast a glance up at Viggo, a polite smile on her lips, and then stuck out her hand.
“My name is Josefine Rankin, Chancellor Croft,” she said formally. “And I’m so happy you are here! I hoped you would be! Oh, Violet!”
I smiled at her enthusiasm and reached out to place a hand on her shoulder.
“It’s awesome to see you again. Are you waiting to get into the temple?”
She nodded, her face beaming with joy.
“Yes. Me and my parents are… That’s my dad.”
I looked up to see an auburn-haired man with his hat in his hands, turning it nervously between them as he watched me and his young daughter. I glanced at Viggo, who shrugged, and then looked back at Josefine.
“Would you… Would you like to come into the temple a little early? You can return to your parents before the ceremony.”
“So I can meet Morgan and Amber?” she asked, her eyes growing wide.
I suppressed a groan as I recognized the hero worship. Someone—and by someone, I meant Owen—had turned to art and taken to making our story into an adventure comic, one distributed in monthly episodes on both sides of the river. It was accurate, mostly, but definitely designed for children, a move I understood, but still resented in some ways. It had glossed over the violence and the pain, making the story seem more whimsical than it actually was.
“Queen Morgan,” I corrected her, needing to put a wedge between the image of Morgan from Owen’s comic books (and it was very flattering) and the real person I knew. “She’s your queen, remember.”
“Not for much longer,” Josefine said with a cheeky smile. “Papa accepted a job in Patrus to help in the construction. Soon, you and Viggo will be our king and queen.”
“Patrus is no longer a monarchy,” announced a steady voice from behind us, and I turned to see Mags moving toward us, her thick hair braided on top of her head and then artfully disheveled. She was wearing black slacks and a white dress shirt. A vest pulled the outfit together beautifully, and she smiled as she saw me. “Hey, Violet, aren’t you late?”
I looked at the watch on my wrist and sighed. “I am, but I’m waiting for Josefine’s answer.”
“She can go,” her mother announced loudly, and I looked up and saw her smiling at me. Beaming, really. “You’re her hero,” she added.
I felt the pang of guilt, knowing Owen’s stupid comic books had once again been blown out of proportion, and sighed.
“I get that a lot,” I commented as I reached out a hand to the young girl. “Shall we?”
“Mags will escort me down,” Viggo said from behind me, and I raised my hand as I continued up the steps. Mags would escort him down—she was the head of his wardens now, a bold and stunning move for Patrus that had been one of the first positions he had announced.
Oh, there had been pushback, but it didn’t matter, because it had the intended effect of recruiting women to the wardens when Viggo had opened up jobs to both genders. No Patrian woman had believed she would get a fair shake with a male in charge, and the rest was history.
“Was that really Magdelena?” Josefine asked, her eyes widening. “She stopped that revolt six months ago. With the Porteque gang. Without a single shot fired!”
I smiled. She talked about it so casually, as if there hadn’t been several lives threatened. She was right—Mags had handled the situation b
eautifully, planning and executing the rescue operation down to every minute detail, but it didn’t change the fact that the gang members had taken an entire school hostage for forty-eight hours in an attempt to draw Viggo and me out.
“That was her, yes. Head Warden Magdelena.”
“Oh wow,” said Josefine wistfully. “I’m just so excited to see you all. I hoped I would. I wanted to tell you how—”
“Excuse me, Mrs. Bates?”
I turned away from Josefine to see an olive-clad warden climbing the steps leading down, one hand on the wall, and I recognized Edi immediately. I checked my watch and winced.
“How mad is she?” I asked.
Edi gave me a weathered smile and shook her head.
“She’s not mad, she’s… concerned. Will you and your guest accompany me down?”
“Duty calls,” I announced in a conspiratorial whisper to Josefine, and she giggled. “We’re on our way down, Edi.”
The elderly woman nodded and peered over my shoulder.
“Where’s that eye candy you call a husband?” she asked, her eyes gleaming, and I rolled my eyes.
“On his way with Mags,” I informed her, resuming our descent down the steps. “He’s cutting a dashing figure in that suit he’s wearing—just remember, he’s my husband.”
“I’m too old for that sort of thing,” Edi called after me. “I just enjoy looking.”
Josefine flushed as I shook my head with a chuckle, continuing down the stairs toward the temple.
“I get that a lot,” I told her, and she looked up at me, a shy grin on her face.
“I can’t believe you’re letting me come with you!” she squeaked. “You really… I mean… You’re sort of my...”
I let her stammer for a second, and then paused on the steps and turned to face her.
“Josefine, you were my friend before all this happened. Can’t I persuade you to be my friend again?”
Her eyes grew large as she considered it, and then nodded slowly.
“I guess I can? I mean… we only knew each other for a short time, and then you were gone. I thought they were going to execute you.”
“They tried to,” I replied. “In their own way.”
“But you didn’t die! You refused to give up! You were so brave!”
“I was afraid,” I told her bluntly. “All the time. Every choice, every decision… it meant the possibility that someone would die. People did die. What I did… it wasn’t anything special. You could’ve been right there too, if circumstances had been different, but I’m glad you weren’t. When did you get out of Merrymount?”
“Shortly after you left,” she replied. “But my mom was still in prison, and they wouldn’t let me go to my dad once… once everything happened. I was so scared he was dead. The way the ticker made it sound, it seemed like he could’ve been.”
“But he wasn’t, and now you have a family again, reunited and whole.”
She smiled up at me. “That’s why you’re my hero,” she said softly. “You and Owen both—you changed the laws, and now my family is together again. Mom got released after the bill you both wrote forgiving her and all those like her for their crimes. Y’know—the Broken Homes Act?”
I grinned at her. “I remember,” I said dryly, moving farther down the steps. “It took three months to write, another three to get ratified by both governments, and was a blinding migraine on both sides. That’s…” I paused and looked back up at her. “That’s why I’m your hero? Because I co-authored a law?”
To be honest, the only reason Owen and I had gotten roped into it was because of our experiences on both sides, and our connections to the leadership. Because it was going to be the first law to be enacted by both countries, Owen and I (and a team of lawmakers) had sat down and hammered it out as the first bi-national cooperative effort. It had been rough, and it wasn’t what we had originally wanted, but it was… better.
“Yes,” Josefine said, breaking me from my train of thought and reminding me I was in a conversation. “I mean, I read those comics, but I remember what happened at Merrymount, you know. I know a lot of the story is left out. I went to the library and checked out the transcripts from the investigation, as well as the oral history project you and the chancellor started. I accessed those and listened to what everyone on that side of the river went through. It was awful.”
I licked my lips, my mouth suddenly going dry.
“That’s, uh, pretty impressive, actually. I don’t think I’ve listened to all of that.” And there had certainly been some content that would be heavy for a… I wracked my brains, trying to do math… an almost ten-year-old girl.
Josefine looked up at me, her gaze heavy, and I was reminded that she had always seemed more than your average child. Growing up in the orphanages did that to some of us. But even so, I was beginning to suspect that Josefine was a very special case.
“Probably because you were there,” she said. “It was easier for me because I wasn’t, and even then, it was still painful. What was… What was Ms. Dale’s secret that she hid from you?”
I felt myself start to break, and I looked away, fighting back the tears.
“I never asked,” I admitted, cursing myself for even including it in the recording. It had felt important enough to include… but now everyone wanted to know. “Viggo offered to tell me, but… I never wanted to know.”
“Why not?”
It was a simple question, but there wasn’t a simple answer. How could I explain that I didn’t care what wrong she had committed against me? That it ultimately didn’t matter, because she was dead and all this was over? What would the knowledge change, save potentially tainting a memory of her that I wanted pure and pristine and whole? It didn’t matter—she was gone, and all I had was a memory of a woman willing to sacrifice herself to save me and both our worlds. Surely that more than made up for any past transgressions.
“We should go,” I said after a moment. “Morgan’s going to kill me.”
“Oh. Of course.” We resumed walking, but now the silence between us was a bit strained. I wanted to assure Josefine that she hadn’t upset me, but I was upset. It wasn’t her fault—she had just been curious—but every time I thought of Ms. Dale, I felt more than my share of melancholy. I wished she were there so I could ask her how long it would hurt for, but she wasn’t. And I felt that.
“Violet!” I looked up as we came down the last part of the stairs and saw my brother moving toward me, pushing through several official-looking people to reach me.
“Tim? I thought you were in the atrium.”
“I got bored,” he said. “Besides, Jay wanted to come down early to see if any… if there were any pretty girls.”
“I was just telling Tim it looked like a bust,” announced Jay from behind him, and I looked up to see him wheeling himself across the mosaic floor in his wheelchair. “But then you walked in.” He grinned smarmily at me, and I gave him a dry look. “My name is Jay Bertrand,” he said, holding out his hand to Josefine.
“Of course! You’re Desmond’s so—” Josefine broke off, her eyes drifting back to the wheelchair he was seated in, awkwardly pausing as she recalled who had put him there.
“Son,” he finished for her, his smile never wavering. “And yes, her parting gift to me was less than pleasant. But the ladies really dig the wheelchair.”
“No, they dig all the muscles,” Tim said, slapping him lightly on a solid shoulder. It was true—Jay may have lost the use of his left leg all the way to the hip, and his right leg all the way to the knee, but he kept active, and his chest and arms had grown significantly during his convalescence. With his enhancement, he could do pretty much anything with his upper body alone. What was even more incredible was how well he had taken everything, all things considered. “I stand next to him, and I can’t even get a hello!”
“You’re Tim!” Josefine chirped excitedly, a wide smile on her face. “Your speech has gotten much better than in the comics. Oh. Wait… Sho
uld I say hello?” Tim flushed bright red, looking mortified.
“No!” he said, clearly uncomfortable with the young girl’s faux pas. I bit my lip, trying not to laugh at his obvious embarrassment and subsequent backpedaling. “You’re too—I mean… What I mean to say is…”
“That he is looking for a girlfriend, but us injured guys get all the attention,” came Quinn’s voice, and I saw him turning around to face us, an eyepatch over one eye. His scars had faded significantly, but were still there, making his face resemble a patchwork quilt—and a messy one at that—but the impish smile remained. “Cry me a river, Bates. I’ll take whatever help I can get.” He squatted next to Josefine. “He might seem like boyfriend material, but trust me—you can do much better.”
“You’re a little old for her, grandpa,” I pointed out, though I couldn’t help but smile at the way they were all joking around just like ordinary boys… and how Josefine didn’t seem to be bothered in the slightest.
“Oh my God, you’re Quinn!” she exclaimed. “You’re…”
“The genius behind creating a linked network between Matrus and Patrus?” he asked, anything but humble. “Yes, I know. I built an informational bridge between our two countries, and gave everyone free access to it.”
“Settle a bet for us, Violet,” said Jay, ignoring Quinn’s bragging. “What do ladies like better—charm, smarm, or farm?” As he spoke, he pointed to himself first, Quinn second, and Tim third, and I cocked my head at him.
“Why is my brother the farm?” I asked.
“Because he’s just got that good ol’ farmer thing down, all shy and nervous. Not to mention, all of those speech classes go right out the window when he sees a pretty face. Goes right back to how he was before.”
Tim rolled his eyes theatrically behind Jay’s back, and Josefine’s hand leapt to her mouth as she covered her smile.
“I’m not answering that question,” I announced, fighting back a laugh of my own. “You three will just have to figure it out for yourselves.”
The Gender End Page 43
