The Gender End (The Gender Game #7)

Only then did I break down fully, sobbing uncontrollably at the injustice of it all, and the bitter truth of their words. The loss of Ms. Dale was too fresh for this as well, but there was nothing I could do to change it. Still, I let myself wallow in my grief, using Viggo as my anchor and spinning out into the void. Missing her voice, her confidence, her wry wit. There was a permanent hole in my heart, an absence of her, and I felt every millimeter of the wound, feeling it bleed out.

Viggo kept it from festering—he mourned with me, but not as deeply, knowing that now, more than ever, I needed him to be strong for me. He held me tightly, whispering to me reassuringly, long until the sun had drifted low into the horizon. He made me eat the stew they brought down for dinner, making me focus on something practical and ordinary. I was glad the fare was simple—I didn’t think I could hold much else down. Later, he helped me bathe.

He took such gentle and tender care of me throughout it all, never complaining or growing angry at me. Viggo let me grieve, and it made everything, even in this dark, horrible place of loss, so much more okay. By midnight I slept, and for once, I did not have nightmares.

By morning, I felt better. Tired, but better. I woke, rolled over, and saw Viggo looking at me, exhaustion evident on his face.

“Did you stay up all night?” I asked softly, my voice still rough from crying the night before.

He nodded and reached up to touch my face. “Of course I did. I was worried.”

“I’m sorry,” I breathed, looking down. “I just…”

“I know,” he replied. “It isn’t right. I hate it too, but it’s too late to do anything now. We’ll… We’ll just have to move past it.”

“What do you think the others think?” I asked.

“We should ask them. The guard who delivered dinner said breakfast would be communally served down the hall. Feel up to going down there to see who’s there and getting their input?”

I nodded and drew my tired body up, slipping from the bed. Viggo got up as well, and within a few minutes, we were dressed. I held his hand as we left the room, following the guards as they led us to the dining room.

I was surprised to see that almost everyone in our group was inside. Then again, there hadn’t been very many of us on the mission in the first place… and there were fewer of us now. I felt like I was never going to forget that fact. Of the survivors, the only one not at breakfast was Tim, but that didn’t surprise me. He was still at the stage of wanting to sleep the day away. And, in my opinion, he’d earned that right.

“Hey,” Owen said from the buffet-style table, smiling gently at me, a heaping pile of toast on his plate. I saw it and my mouth watered—but then I thought about the people in Patrus, and how they were probably dining on protein rations, and my appetite deserted me. I helped myself to a small bowl of cereal and some tea, sitting down at one of the four small circular tables where Amber and Logan were already sitting. Owen finished loading his plate up, while Viggo got a cup of black coffee and sat down next to me.

“So,” I said, breaking the strained silence. Amber looked up from where she picked at her own food, her eyes blank and empty.

“Ms. Dale?” she asked, and I nodded.

“It sucks,” she declared, pushing her fork away and crossing her arms. “They didn’t even take our statements!”

“Alyssa acted as our advocate,” Viggo replied. “Morgan backed her up in that she told the truth—it wasn’t our intention to kill Elena, but Ms. Dale went against the plan and killed her.”

“I would have done it if she hadn’t,” I said numbly. “Do you think they would’ve executed me?”

Viggo reached out and took my hand.

“Over my dead body,” he said evenly, squeezing my hand.

“Ms. Dale would’ve wanted it this way,” Owen said after a pause. “Put yourself in her shoes. You’re saying you wouldn’t have done the same thing for all of us? Even if it came at the price of a tainted memory?”

I stared at him blearily, trying to decide whether I should feel angry. It took me the length of that stare to process what was going on in my heart, but eventually I sighed and placed my hands in my lap.

“I already thought of that,” I admitted. “And you’re right. It wouldn’t matter to me, and if it could keep all of you safe, I don’t think I’d care.”

“Exactly. Besides, that makes Ms. Dale a hero twice over: not only did she stop Elena, but she spared us from getting executed for regicide.”

I exhaled slowly. “It still hurts,” I said numbly.

“That’s because Ms. Dale was a hell of a woman,” Logan said softly, and I looked at him. He gave a sad smile. “I know it’s not really my place to say it—I didn’t know her as long as you all did—but I could pick up on it the moment I met her. She was just… calculating and fierce, y’know? I haven’t met many people like that in my life, man or woman, and… I kind of admired her.”

“Me too,” said Amber, her lips quirking. “Not just ‘kind of.’ Hell, I want to be her. She was so pragmatic, but underneath that hard spy exterior, she had a heart. A living, feeling heart.”

“She was courageous,” Viggo added with a nod, and I smiled. “When she found out the truth, when she learned what was really going on? She decided to do something, even if it meant going down as a traitor. That made her brave, and that made me respect her.”

“She never let us down,” I whispered. “Not once, not ever. I’m going to miss her guidance.”

“We all are,” replied Viggo. “But we’ll remember her like this. Not how they tell everyone else to remember her, but how she was. And we’ll tell our children the truth about her.”

I sniffled and smiled, his words like the first bit of sunshine poking through a mostly overcast day. I rested my head on his shoulder and slid my hand under his, lacing our fingers together.

“Oh God. Henrik,” Amber breathed, and instantly that moment of joy vanished, deflated under a heavy stone. “Do you think he knows?”

Before I could tell her about our conversation with him yesterday, the man’s own voice cut through the silence.

“He knows,” Henrik said gruffly, and I turned to see him leaning on the door, watching us—and my heart gave a leap to see Solomon standing solemnly behind him.

Henrik’s eyes were rimmed red, and he still looked exhausted. The two men moved into the room, and I once again threw my arms around Henrik. He accepted the hug stiffly, with a soft pat on my back.

“I’m okay, Violet.”

I let him go, but only because I needed to move on to Solomon, relieved to see him well. He was already hugging Amber, patting her gently atop her red curls. I thought about waiting patiently, then thought Screw it, and simply threw my arms around both of them.

I felt Solomon adjust his grip to include me as Amber and I squeezed him and each other, then eased back.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” I told him. “I figured you would be, but…”

“I’m okay. Alyssa’s friends took care of us. We didn’t meet with much resistance—I assume you all drew them off…” He trailed off, then looked away, swallowing hard. “I… I regret even going with her. Maybe if I had been with you, we could’ve…”