The Gender Plan (The Gender Game #6)

Once I was finished, I handed the plate over to Margot and stood up, brushing my hand over my lap and chest to clear away the crumbs. “Thanks, Margot. Do you know where everyone is?”


“Oh! Well, Viggo is in the house. Ms. Dale, Cad, and a team left this morning to go raid some of the weapons depots. We’re apparently running desperately low on fuel. Thomas is fiddling around with the silver egg thing that you had with you in the palace, and Amber is currently teaching some of the cadets how to fly the heloship.”

I blinked. “Wow. You are really well informed.”

Margot laughed and shook her head. “Nah. Your fiancé thought you would want to know when you got up.”

I chuckled and nodded. “That sounds like Viggo. Well, if you’ll excuse me, I want to go check in with him, and then go check on my brother.”

Margot nodded, pressing her hand against my cheek, her smile deepening. “Of course, dear. Cad and I looked in on him this morning. Dr. Tierney assured us both that he’s going to be fine, but I’m guessing you’ll want to hear it from her.”

“Yes. And also, I’m just worried.”

“Well, stop talking to me about it and go see for yourself. Unless you want some help getting there? You are looking a bit… stiff.”

I drew in a deep breath and nodded. “That’s a word for it. Another word would be bruised and battered.” She frowned, and I reached out and took her hand, inexplicably happy that I could do that, because she was family. “I’m okay,” I reassured her. “And I’ll take it easy. I promise.”

She gave me a long, considering look, and then nodded. “All right. But you hear me now, Ms. Violet Bates: if you do push yourself too hard, then I’ll make you go to bed myself, even if I have to carry you there. Don’t mess with me, either—I’ve already seen my children through toddlerhood.”

I laughed, remembering Tim when he was a toddler. “Message received, Commander,” I said with a salute.

I was bolstered by the sound of her laughter as I turned and walked down the lane between the rows of tents running along the tree line. The grass was worn down and muddy from all the foot traffic the last few weeks, so I picked my steps carefully, heading to the familiar brown, dilapidated farmhouse that had become our new home.

I was just leaving the row and crossing the yard when Morgan jogged up to me.

“Violet!” she said, coming to a stop just in front of me.

I frowned. Morgan and I didn’t talk much. In fact, she seemed to let Lynne handle most of the meetings between us and the Liberators. “Hey, Morgan. What’s up?”

“Have you seen Owen? I mean, is he okay?”

My frown deepened, and I shook my head. “No, I’m sorry, but I was just on my way to check on him. Do you want to—”

“No!” she said, practically shouting. She took a step back, and then looked around, fidgeting slightly. “Sorry,” she said after a second, looking chagrined. “I just… I know Quinn’s in there, and I heard… I heard about what happened to him.” She frowned, and met my gaze, her turquoise eyes haunted with shadows. “I don’t do well with stuff like that.”

I completely understood. It was hard seeing what had happened to Quinn. The wounds Tabitha had inflicted on him, in order to make Amber talk… they were difficult even for me to stomach. But still, that didn’t make Quinn any less of a person, and I was certain he would love a visit from Morgan.

“You should come with me,” I said softly. “Quinn’s injuries, they’re hard, but I’m sure he’d love to see you too.”

Morgan frowned and shook her head, her short black hair fluffing wildly around her face. “Lynne’s said the same thing to me, but you both don’t get it. It’s fine. Just… if you hear anything about Owen, let me know, okay? I gotta go.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but she was gone, running back over to the firing range. I felt jealousy pulse through me for a moment, envying the way she could just break out into a run like that, effortlessly. I shook the feeling off. I was on the road to recovery, bumps and all, and I would get back to fighting form. It would just take patience—something not entirely within my skillset, but I could learn.

Viggo was sitting at the dining room table, examining some papers, a radio sitting in front of him. He looked up as I entered, his green eyes meeting mine and a smile growing on his lips.

“Hey, you,” he said, making as if to stand up. I waved for him to stay in place and then moved over to him, risking the pain to bend over for a chaste kiss.

“Hey yourself,” I said. “Have you checked on Tim? Is he—”

“Before you go off with your million questions, Dr. Tierney says he’s going to be fine. He is in shock, however, so it might be a little bit before he wakes up. By the way, you were in shock too.”

“I was?” Surprise radiated throughout me for just a moment at his revelation, and then the obvious signs started to fall into place. It made sense, when I thought about it. Still, I felt fine now, in spite of the nightmare from this morning. Then again, it seemed like nightmares were a constant phenomenon in my life at this point.

He nodded, his smile faltering a second. “Intense emotional and/or physical trauma,” he said, sounding like he was quoting somebody. “Want to talk about it?”

I frowned, suddenly wary. I had dreaded this confrontation, dreaded telling him about Owen, but knew I had to. I just didn’t want to do it now.

“I do,” I hedged. “But I need to talk to Owen first.”

Viggo frowned, confusion making the green in his eyes darken. “Why would you need to—”

“As soon as I tell you, you’ll understand. I just need you to trust me on this.”

Viggo’s frown continued, the lines on his face deepening. He studied me closely, and then gave me a bewildered nod. “I always trust you, Violet. Owen’s in the back with Dr. Tierney.”

“He’s all right?”

“His head wound was mostly superficial. He’s got a mild concussion but nothing else, so he should be fine to get to work. Do me a favor and ask him if he intends to stick around, and if so, let him know about our meeting? It’s at noon.”

I smirked at him, crossing my arms. “And when was I going to hear about this meeting?”

“Just now,” he replied tartly, a smile on his lips. “Now go—I know you’re dying to see your brother.”

“Hey, I’m also dying to see you.” I paused, considering my phrasing. “And you know, no more using the word ‘dying.’ It’s beginning to sound too close to my daily life.”

Viggo sighed and then reached out and tugged me close, gently maneuvering me until I was sitting on his knee. He rested his forehead against mine, lacing our fingers together. “How bad?” he asked, his breath caressing my face.

I exhaled and closed my eyes, resisting the urge to just curl up against him and fall asleep. “Bad,” I replied honestly, and his response was to wrap his arms around me, holding me close. “I’m so glad you came for me. Did I thank you for that?”