The Gender Plan (The Gender Game #6)

“I do,” I said after a moment.

Viggo reached out and plucked the ring from my fingers. Examining it closely, he nodded in satisfaction. “I would have picked it out at a store for you,” he replied, taking my hand in his and slipping the ring over my ring finger. It hung lightly on my finger, but it was slightly too big, and I felt like it was going to slip off.

“We have to get it resized,” I said, pulling it off and dropping it back in the box.

“We will,” he replied. “In the meantime, do you know what this means?”

I adjusted my bottom, pushing back from the end of the bed, and then flopped back into my pillow. “Not really.”

Viggo stretched out beside me, propping his head up on his hand. “It means we are now officially ready to get married.”

I snorted and turned onto my side, presenting him with my back. He immediately slid up next to me, his arm coming over and around my waist and his legs slipping through mine. “After all this is done,” I reminded him, my eyelids already beginning to grow heavy and cumbersome.

“Of course,” he breathed into my ear.

And then I was out—sleep pulling me down and under.





18





Viggo





“Just remember that we have to convince…” Henrik trailed off, his head swiveling around to regard King Maxen, who was standing on the landing of the stairs to the basement, his eyes bleary from sleep. I couldn’t blame him. My eyes burned, and I felt like my head had been swaddled in coffee—the five hours of sleep we had tried to grab had ultimately turned out closer to three, but in batches. The ordeals Violet and I had faced were beginning to weigh on us both. Her nightmares woke me, and mine woke her. I was beginning to wonder what a good night’s sleep even meant anymore.

Maxen stood at the top of the stairs for a span of time, glowering down at us, and I sighed. I was not particularly eager for another interaction with the king of Patrus. He was a fundamentally selfish man, both entitled and arrogant. In retrospect, I kind of wished I had let Henrik, Amber, and Quinn shoot him instead of kidnapping him.

Maxen broke the silence by clomping loudly down the stairs, each sound making me fight off a wince. He’d gotten a bit thinner, there was gray blending in at the sides of his temples as well as his eyebrows, and he had exchanged his finer clothes for simpler ones, although I suspected that hadn’t been as much of a choice as a necessity. I could tell he was miserable—it was in every deep nook and cranny of his face not obscured by the beard that had fully grown in around his goatee. He was also angry—it was subtle and slow burning, but it was there, glimmering in his blue eyes, and it winked at us every now and then in every interaction.

He sat down at the head of the table and folded his hands atop it. “Good morning,” he said stiffly, not meeting anyone’s gaze.

Ms. Dale, bless her heart, didn’t even bat an eye. “Good morning, King Maxen. Thank you for joining us.”

“It’s not exactly like I had a choice,” the king snapped back, and I had to bite my tongue to keep myself from interjecting. It would only turn this situation from uncomfortable to worse. Maxen was clearly spoiling for a fight. Luckily, Ms. Dale wasn’t going to allow it to escalate.

“That’s entirely correct,” she replied cheerfully. “So sit down, shut up, do what you’re told, and maybe we’ll get around to finally restoring your kingdom. And if you do it quickly, there might actually be some of it left to save!”

“Like it or not,” added Henrik, leaning back into his chair and smiling broadly, “you need us and we need you. So why don’t you stop fighting us at every turn, and start helping?”

The king raised an eyebrow at Henrik. “Aren’t you dead yet?”

Ms. Dale literally growled, standing up so abruptly I was surprised her chair didn’t go anywhere. Violet leaned over.

“So much for not getting into a fight,” she whispered to me, and I nodded, and then stood up.

“Enough,” I bellowed. Whatever Ms. Dale had been gearing up to say stalled out. Maxen looked at me in surprise, but I ignored him. Turning to Ms. Dale, I gave her a stern look. “Ms. Dale, maybe we could all try to be sensitive to the king’s… predicament. I’m sure this situation, for him, hasn’t been without hardships.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw King Maxen give me a considering look, and then a congenial smile. I let him bask in that for a moment, before turning and spearing him with a hard stare. “And you. I know you still cling to this ridiculous idea that we kidnapped you to… I don’t even know what, but let’s be honest: every person here is your ally. We share a common enemy—one that wanted you dead and would’ve killed you had we not intervened, I might add—and we have kept you safe, fed, and housed. You owe everyone here for that, so you might want to be a little more civil.”

My voice ended in a growl, and the king stiffened, his eyes narrowing to slits. “Never presume to lecture me, Mr. Croft,” he sneered.

I didn’t reply. I just held his gaze for a long moment, trying to convince myself that punching him that one time hadn’t been that satisfying. Eventually, the king’s eyes flicked down and away, and I sat back down in my chair, satisfied that he had gotten the severity of the message. The tension was growing too high for any derision. We had to convince these rebels to join with us if we had any chance of stopping Elena from doing whatever it was she was doing at the water treatment plant. I just had to hope that showing them King Maxen’s face would be enough—if they were expecting much else from him, they were going to be woefully disappointed.

The screen on the table against the wall beeped, and Henrik gave a nod. “Game faces, everyone. It’s time to make these rebels think we got it all figured out.”

I bit back a smile at the truth in his words, and then Ms. Dale connected the channel on our laptop. Instantly, Tiffany’s face filled the screen, her wide eyes searching. “I got ‘em,” she said over her shoulder.

She moved out of view, the camera on her handheld shaking, tilting right and left as she adjusted it. Once it settled, I stared at the three people who were sitting a few feet away from the handheld, seated in what was clearly an apartment’s living room space. I took stock of each of them, finally putting some faces to the names Tiffany had briefed us on.