The Gender End (The Gender Game #7)

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 beautifully, 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.”