The Gender Fall (The Gender Game #5)

“It’s nothing,” I insisted, gently removing her hand. “The worst is over.”

She nodded, but her face reflected her doubt. “I’m sorry I didn’t pop by sooner to check on you. I did while you were… um…”

“Unconscious?” I suggested, giving her a little smile, and she nodded.

“Yeah. But the past thirty-six hours have been a little hectic, what with the scouts returning from the refugee camp Thomas located, and coordinating with Viggo and Owen regarding the plans for tonight.”

I cast a glance over at Viggo and raised an eyebrow. “The plans for tonight? Oh, really?”

Ms. Dale picked up on my tone and speared Viggo with a look of her own. “He didn’t tell you.”

Viggo idly picked at a blade of grass and gave a shrug. “I just haven’t had a chance to yet.” I studied him closely and then smiled.

“I’m sure he was going to tell me, he just hadn’t gotten to it yet,” I said dryly, winking when he shot me an indignant glance. I was rewarded by the sight of his face melting, and he shook his head and leaned back on the palms of his hands, clearly bemused. I turned back to Ms. Dale, confident I would get the plans for tonight out of Viggo at some point soon.

“How goes training of the new recruits?” I asked, curious.

Ms. Dale gave a huff and crossed her arms. “About as well as can be expected, I suppose. I can’t speak too highly of them yet, but we’ll get them there. Some of them—the women, of course—have taken to guns like birds to flight, so there’s some hope.” She gave Viggo a sly look, and he rolled his eyes at her.

“Well, not all birds can fly, so…” He trailed off, and I had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing as Ms. Dale’s amusement soured. I always loved it when Ms. Dale and Viggo teased each other. At first it had been truly hostile, but now it was just quintessentially them. It was reassuring to see some things never changed.

I ran my left hand over the springy grass, turning back to Ms. Dale, who was staring at my face again, and frowned—was that a glimmer of guilt in her eyes? That was weird. Why would she feel guilty looking at my face? It must have been some sense of responsibility. Maybe, as my former martial arts teacher, she felt responsible for my having lost the fight with Tabitha so badly. Well, technically I’d won in the end…

The expression I was pondering was gone in an instant, as Ms. Dale’s face returned to its normal impassive state.

“On that note, I have to get back to preparations,” she said, standing up. “Viggo, I will see you tonight.”

Viggo inclined his head in wordless acknowledgement, and I leaned back onto the trunk of the tree behind us as Ms. Dale moved off to other parts of the camp. My thoughts drifted to Tim, and I felt a deep ache in my heart. Still no word, no sign, no intercepted report… nothing. That was really why I would have agreed to anything to get out of bed. When I wasn’t sleeping, my brother was always on my mind; even when I slept, my dreams were troubled, his voice and his face making appearances in places that had nothing to do with him. Doing something else—anything else—was the only way to keep the worry from becoming impatience and making me want to do something drastic.

Viggo’s arm dropped over my shoulder, and I looked up at him, shaking off the dire thoughts. His mouth was pressed into a thin line. “Tim?” he asked. I nodded, and he tugged me closer, holding me tight.

“We’ll find him,” Viggo breathed against my forehead. I nodded again, but the doubt still lurked in my mind, racing over the dozens of possible outcomes, none of them good. “Actually, we have a bit of a lead…”

A grin formed on my lips as I put two and two together and cast a gaze up at him. “You mean… Does it have something to do with your mysterious mission tonight?”

Viggo nodded, and I straightened slightly, brushing invisible lint off the pants I was wearing. They were borrowed—probably outfits recovered from Ashabee’s manor, or donated by some of the refugees—and a bit large, but serviceable. “Spill.”

He chuckled and began explaining the camp Thomas had found, the one where the Matrians were shipping most, if not all, Patrian males. “They will have records,” he said. “Possibly even computers we can hack into.” He hesitated, meeting my gaze with a wary flick of his eyes. “I’m hoping we might find some sign of Tim… If he’s been picked up, they might have taken him there.”

I fidgeted as a sliver of hope threaded its way into my heart. I sternly reminded myself there were no guarantees. Viggo reached over and took my hand, squeezing it gently. We sat there for a few minutes, Viggo comforting me while I fretted, worried about what they might find at this camp—and, even worse, what they might not.

I was so deep into my musings that when Viggo spoke again, it took a moment to register. “Look who’s over there…”

He pointed, and I followed the direction of his finger, my eyes finding a man standing a fair distance away, near a group of people standing in line by the shooting range set up some ways behind the barn. He was peering directly at us. Even at this distance, it took me less than a second to identify Cad, and I straightened, self-consciously tugging my cap down over my bald head. Cad seemed to realize it was me, and gave a little whoop, loping over toward us.

This time I did try to stand, using the tree and Viggo for help, and was on my feet by the time my cousin reached us. “Violet!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms open wide. I stepped gingerly into them, just relieved to see him, and he hugged me extra gently, his arms barely brushing my healing ribs. We held each other like that for a moment, and he pecked me on my forehead. “I’m so happy to see you up,” he whispered.

“Me too,” I whispered back, releasing him. He stepped away, and I saw his eyes were brimming with gratitude.