The Gender End (The Gender Game #7)

There was a long pause, and then Ms. Dale looked at me. “You sure about this?” she asked, and I looked up at Violet for a second.

“Absolutely,” I replied. “It’s smart, relies on only two agents. Violet and I are great at improvising when things go horribly awry. But best of all, with this solution, you three”—I indicated the Patrian rebel leaders, focusing on Drew, who needed the most convincing—“could work on the provisional government and get it off the ground faster. The people are looking for leaders to trust, and this is the time to show yourselves to them.”

“Not to mention, I have leverage on Elena. Leverage I can use to our advantage.” Violet looked around the room, her face and body exuding confidence. “If we are torn between these two things, then let Viggo and I handle Elena, while the rest of you take care of this place.”

“This is dangerous,” Amber said with a grin. “Which is why I think I should be the one to pilot you over there.”

“Hold your horses, young lady,” Henrik said. “I’m really not sure I like the idea of only a two-man team going into Matrus. We wouldn’t be able to back you up if you got in trouble.”

“A larger team could be more dangerous,” I said. “More chance of getting caught. Just think it over. But we’re happy to volunteer.”

Henrik sighed and looked around the room. “Any objections?” he asked.

Nobody raised their hand, and I felt a curious mixture of disappointment and excitement. We were so close to doing something about Elena that I could practically taste it.

I was glad Violet had suggested it, but I also knew the odds. I didn’t even have to ask Thomas. Chances were if the two of us went into Matrus, we would probably die there. Violet knew this, and still she wanted to go—she was willing to make that sacrifice for the good of everyone, and I was so proud that I could call her mine.

“No objections noted,” Henrik announced as the room filled with silence at his question. “Then let’s all get some rack time, all right?”





17





Violet





I slowed to a stop as we rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs leading away from the conference room, letting my arm stretch out as Viggo continued to pull away, my fingers still laced through his. He felt me stop and came to a halt, turning slowly, his expression inquisitive. I smiled, melting as I looked into the angular planes of his face, trying to make my love for him shine through my eyes.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.

I had to laugh—he sounded so baffled and confused, and I couldn’t blame him. I was acting weird, but… this was the time. It was right now, and it was going to be perfect.

“Because I love you,” I said, and he smiled, although the confusion on his face was still there. I’d told him that enough times, I supposed, that it had stuck. I took a step closer to him, holding up our interlocked hands between us. “And I’ve been thinking about this for a while now. Well, since The Outlands, anyway. I… I want to marry you, Viggo. Now. I can’t wait anymore. I am so hopelessly in love with you that it leaves me breathless and shaky, and I feel sick thinking about us not being married. It’s time, Viggo. Will you marry me? Today?”

As I spoke, Viggo’s face broke out into a smile, and then the smile merged into a thoughtful expression, his lips moving up and down with the gentle rocking of a body of water. When I was done with my proposal, he exhaled slowly.

“Violet, what brought this on?” he asked gently. He didn’t say it with alarm, just a genuine curiosity, which was good, because as excited as I was, I was also a little bit nervous.

“It was something Belinda said on the heloship,” I said softly, licking my lips. “And I realized she was right. Viggo, I don’t want to die having never been married to you.”

“Die? Violet—”

“Please don’t tell me that we’re not going to die. We’re going into Matrus. Soon. That’s where Elena lives, Viggo. We’d have to be idiots to assume this is anything short of a suicide mission. I am not going in there prepared to die—I am going to fight until my last breath to get us both out alive. But we know the risks, and you know as well as I do that if that’s the price we have to pay, then we’ll pay it. Just… give me this, please.”

“Violet… I want you to look at me.” He released my fingers as I spoke, reaching up to touch my cheek and place his other hand on my hip, gently coaxing me toward him. “We’re not going to die in Matrus, and this is not a suicide mission.”

“I want to believe that. But Viggo, war is—”

“Chaotic?” he cut in with a teasing grin, and I smiled, nodding my head. His expression grew thoughtful again, and he sighed. “Violet, we don’t have to rush this. There’s no reason to do it right this minute. We still don’t even have a fully formed plan yet—we need more intel on the palace, Alyssa Dawes, where Sierra might be. Even with Thomas finally in their system after the heloship raid, it could take days.”

“Which are days that I could spend as your wife, not as your fiancée,” I replied. “I understand what you’re saying, but I’ve thought about this a lot. I don’t want to wait anymore. I told myself I’d find the right moment, and it’s now. Not to mention—everyone is here! All of our friends and family, under one roof. I mean, who knows when that will ever happen again, or how long we’ll have that for?”

Viggo’s face fell, and he nodded. “That’s a good point,” he said, and from the pained look on his face I realized he was probably thinking about all the people we had lost so far. Those deaths were still fresh, still a hole inside me every time I stopped to look back, and I knew they tore at Viggo every day. Still, he met my gaze and offered me a small smile. “So have I completely shattered my masculine image yet by acting like a nervous bride?”

“You’re not nervous,” I pointed out. “You’re a traditionalist. But these are untraditional times, Viggo, and I’m ready. So unless you’re not…”

He gave me a droll look, and then dipped his head down and pressed his lips to mine. “You know I am,” he breathed. “But… ask me again.”

“Dork,” I teased. “So… will you?”

“Marry you?” he questioned.

I pressed my lips together to keep from screaming in frustration and looked up at him, bringing my hands up slowly to his neck and pretending to choke him—just enough to let him know he was driving me crazy.

He chuckled and took my hands in his, removing them from his neck. “Calm down—before I even say yes, which we both know I’m going to, I still want to know who you are planning to have preside over it. I mean… Maxen is really the only officiate who could be legally recognized at this point.”