The Gender End (The Gender Game #7)

“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.”

“Yeah, whatever, Violet,” Quinn quipped, his hands moving to his hair and mussing it slightly. “I just spotted the next target of my affections. Wish me lu—hey!”

“All’s fair in love and war,” Jay replied as he wheeled past Quinn, heading toward a pretty young woman wearing a soft coral dress—and not-so-accidentally running over Quinn’s foot in the process. I rolled my eyes. This was their latest pastime, competing for feminine attention, and I wanted nothing to do with it.

“I don’t know about you, but I think they need some alone time together,” I said to Josefine. “Maybe it’ll remind them women like more than confidence or arrogance—they like to be treated like people and not prizes.”

Quinn flushed bright red, stalling. “God, are we really doing that, Violet? Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“Because I love you and I know you didn’t mean any harm by it. But I really have to go—Morgan is waiting for me. Think you can tone it down some before we get back?”

“I’ll make sure they do,” Tim said, crossing his arms across his chest. “You and Josefine go. We’ll see you soon.”

I looked at my watch and cursed. I was now fifteen minutes late. Grabbing Josefine’s hand again, I began to push through the crowd. I spotted the small side tunnel that ran left of the fountain—the same one Elena had been in when we had supposedly thwarted the bomb meant to kill her—and moved into it, Josefine keeping up behind me.

It curved right and then left, ending in an archway that led into a smaller rounded cavern. I could hear Amber speaking softly as I approached, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying, just the tones she spoke in—calming and supportive.

“Is she freaking out yet?” I asked as I stepped in, Josefine in tow, and Morgan scowled at me through the mirror she was standing before.

“You’re… late…” she panted, and I realized the young queen was in the middle of an anxiety attack. Her hands gripped the wooden vanity she was hunched over—the mirror attached to the front—while Amber fanned her with a stiff piece of paper. Still, she looked beautiful. Her white dress was perfectly cut, cinching her waist and exposing her shoulder and collarbones. A simple black ribbon wrapped around her waist, forming a small bow on the front, while her skirt was full and voluminous.

“I’m sorry,” I said, letting go of Josefine’s hand and heading right over to her side. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Something. Oh, mother… Am I really doing this?”

I smiled and placed a hand on her back, rubbing small, gentle circles.

“I understand. I felt the same way when Viggo and I were getting married.”

“Oh?” She looked up at me, her eyes glittering with curiosity as she fought to catch her breath. “Really? I thought… you were… pretty composed.”

I laughed and shook my head.

“Is that really how I looked? I could’ve sworn everyone could see the whites of my eyes with how I was feeling inside.”

“Why were you scared?” asked Josefine.

“It was just nerves,” I replied, turning to her. “I was second-guessing everything, and frightening myself in the process.”

“How did you fix it?” Amber asked, looking pointedly at Morgan.

“I didn’t. Viggo did. The instant I saw him walking into the room… everything just settled. My heart went still. Everything fell out of focus. Everything except him. And in that moment, I just knew what we were doing was the right thing.”

“Problem solved, then,” Morgan said under her breath as she turned toward the door. “SOMEONE GET MY FIANCE IN HERE!”

There was a rustle behind one of the curtains, and a sky-blue warden stepped out from the alcove behind it. “Yes, my qu—”

“Ignore that order,” I said with a laugh. I knew I couldn’t actually order her, but there was a quick flicker of relief on the warden’s face, and she hesitated, looking at Morgan. “You’re not supposed to see him before the wedding—you’ll piss off the chamberlain lady.”

“Oh God,” Morgan said with a shudder. “She’s right, cancel that order. I’ll just go to him!”

“You can’t,” Amber said in exasperation. “They’ve only just started letting the public in. The wedding’s not for another hour!”

Morgan narrowed her eyes at us, her jaw set at a mutinous angle. “I’m the damn queen,” she snarled. “And it’s my damn wedding. They’ll get over it.”

Her spine straightened as she spoke, uncurling and becoming rigid. Unyielding. Commanding.

I looked at Amber and shook my head. “Can you let the chamberlain know the wedding has been moved up by fifty-five minutes? Tell the guards up top to use the Patrian wardens with us to help search bags for weapons, but get the public down here in a hurry.”

Amber gave me a dry smile. “Think you can keep her here for five minutes?”

“We need to double check her makeup is perfect. That’ll be at least a few minutes.”

“Why?” gasped Morgan, turning around toward the mirror. “Did you see something wrong with it?”

I gave Amber a pointed look, and nodded.

“I’ll relay the orders,” she said as she moved down the corridor. Turning to Morgan, I coaxed her into a sitting position.

“Calm down,” I urged her. “And focus on something else.”

“Like your new friend there?” she asked, her eyes flicking to Josefine.

“Old friend,” I said, carefully reapplying some of her makeup. “We were at Merrymount together.”

“The work facility?” she asked, blinking in surprise. “You met her there?”

“She did, but she wasn’t there long. I’m surprised she remembers me, to be honest.” Josefine’s voice ended on a diminished note, and I turned toward her.

“I could never forget you, Josefine. You were kind to me in a place where kindness didn’t exist. It meant more than you could possibly know.”

“But it’s my fault,” she blurted suddenly. “It’s my fault you went after Dina! That you… That you… killed her.”

“What?” I asked, my eyes widening in surprise. “No it’s not.”

“It is! I should’ve been braver! I should’ve fought Dina harder when she came in. If I had, maybe she would’ve run away, or—”

“Or she would’ve killed you,” I exclaimed loudly, cutting her off. “Her braces were removable, Josefine. She turned them into a weapon and tried to use them against me. That’s why I—Why she died. She tried to kill me. I killed her first.”

“It was self-defense,” Morgan said softly, and I shook my head.

“No, it wasn’t,” I breathed sadly. “I went into her room looking for a fight. I wanted to hurt her—and all she’d done was tear up Tim’s photo. In retrospect… that seems a very petty reason for someone to die.”