The Gender End (The Gender Game #7)

“Aren’t you ready yet?” shouted Viggo from the closet, and I ignored the question, staring at myself in the full-length mirror and adjusting my dress. I turned to one side, then the other, and sighed, running a hand over my stomach and pulling the loose yellow fabric down so that the small bump was more noticeable.

“Honestly, Violet, we need to be in the car in ten—” I looked up in the mirror and saw Viggo emerging from the closet, his hands busy tying a black bow tie around his throat. He smiled fondly at me and dropped the untied ends of the fabric, crossing over to me. I exhaled and leaned into his chest as his arms came around mine, his large hands pressing against my stomach.

“You look beautiful,” he breathed in my ear. “And frankly, I love that you’re starting to show. I couldn’t be more proud.”

I smiled and tilted my head to one side, and he planted a soft kiss to my cheek.

“I love you,” I told him.

I felt his smile as he pressed his lips to my cheek yet again. “I love you.”

He slid around to my side, pulling us together and looking at the image we presented in the mirror. It was hard not to see the subtle changes in both of us. We were both a little fuller—even though this past year had been rough—and a bit more rounded out. I had more flesh on my bones, but I was still fit, just… healthier. My skin was better, my hair growing in thick and shiny, my gray eyes luminous.

It didn’t change the fact both of us still had nightmares that would tear us from our sleep in a panic. But we talked about them, described them to each other, and it helped soften them over time.

The last nightmare I’d had was when I found out I was pregnant. I had been too stunned and surprised to bring it up with Viggo immediately, and had fallen asleep waiting for him to come up from one of his late-running council meetings.

In the dream, I had been back in The Green, lying there, unable to move as all the creatures closed in. And then pain began radiating from my abdomen, and when I looked down, my stomach was flayed open, with massive black centipedes that somehow bore resemblances to Tabitha, Elena, and Desmond climbing out of my womb and heading out into the world, beginning a whole new cycle of destruction and terror… and it was all my fault.

I woke from the terror with a cold sweat drenching through my clothes, feeling frozen to the core, afraid to look down at my belly in case I would see that my nightmare was a reality. But Viggo had been there. As always, he was right by my side to comfort me and chase away the shadows.

It hadn’t exactly been the ideal way to tell him about the baby, but, of course, he had made it feel perfect, soothing me with his words and his hands.

A sharp rap on the door leading to the hall jarred me out of my recollections, and Viggo shouted, “Come in,” as his hands went back to the tie.

“Everyone is waiting for you and Violet, and I’m afraid they’re growing quite impatient,” Jeff announced as he stepped in. “Should I tell them you are ready, or will you need a few more minutes?”

“We’re ready,” I announced to Jeff with a smile. He gave me a small bow, and I resisted the urge to shake him. “Jeff!”

He smiled, his eyes twinkling. “So sorry. Habit, you understand.”

“It’s been a year, Jeff, and frankly, I still feel weird about you serving as our butler,” I told him. “You’re not our butler, you’re our friend.”

Jeff’s face softened as his lips curled up into a smile.

“Violet, I’m not merely your butler—I am your secretary and bodyguard, and I consider it a distinguished honor to serve you in that capacity. Besides, this is my skillset. And, may I remind you, I would be hard-pressed to find a position better suited to my own needs in my field. So please, I beg of you, allow my attempt to preserve tradition.”

I glared at him, but I couldn’t shake the smile from my lips.

“Fine,” I said in mock exasperation. “Keep bowing! At least tell me—”

“Tim and Jay are both waiting for you in the atrium,” Jeff answered me smoothly. “I’ll be coming behind with the other state officials, but you have to be there first, Violet. You’re in a critical role.”

“I know, I know,” I breathed. “Viggo?”

“I’m ready,” he announced as he turned, bow tie neatly tied. “Let’s go.”

He took my hand, and the three of us exited the bedroom, heading down the hallway toward the stairs. Morgan had changed the palace quite a bit in the year she’d been queen—for the better, I thought. The carpets were a deep blue, while the walls were painted a bright, warm yellow. It seemed like nothing bad had ever happened here—it felt like nothing bad had ever happened here. It was only when I thought about it too much that a pang of loss caught me off guard.

I missed Ms. Dale and Thomas. I thought about them every day, and I remembered every day what they had sacrificed so that we could change our world. I still wasn’t sure it had been worth it to lose them, but our world was improving. Especially after the harvest this past autumn—we’d had more than enough fresh food to feed Patrus and Matrus both, and Viggo had worked out a great trade agreement with Morgan.

We followed Jeff outside to the car that was waiting for us. The city streets slid by as we headed for our destination, the sun still out but hanging low in the sky, giving us a brilliant view of orange and pink skies over Matrus.

Viggo shuffled through some papers next to me—it seemed like he was always working these days, and the reports were endless—and made a pleased noise. I looked over at him.

“What is it?”

“It’s Alejandro’s report on The Green and the effectiveness of the filtration device we created for the river.”

“Oh?” I sat forward, instantly excited. “And?”

He gifted me an exuberant smile. “It works—King Patrick’s filters can effectively remove eighty-nine percent of the toxic materials, even upriver in The Green, where the toxicity is greater. Unfortunately, we don’t currently have a delivery system big enough to accommodate the whole river, and we will definitely need to set up two facilities to ensure that all the water is treated, which would mean another adventure with the MPJC.”

I grinned at the groan in his voice. Even though it had been his idea to form the Matrian-Patrian Joint Council, he couldn’t stand it now. Mostly because it would be him and Morgana ready to get it done, while fifty statesmen and -women argued this way and that, and, more often than not, devolved the conversation into insults and name-calling. Progress, right?

I, however, was relieved by the news, and intended to let him know.

“That’s fantastic! Does that mean we’re scrapping the plans to go back to the Tower?”