The Gender Game 2 by Bella Forrest (positive books to read txt) 📗

about my wife. When she had come to me, covered in blood, she had begged me to believe her. To help her. And while I had done the latter, it had been hard for me to do the former. I blamed her for going out without me. I hadn’t put myself in her shoes.

It was my biggest regret, one that still haunted me. I didn’t want it to be that way with Violet. For all her faults, and regardless of what the future held, she needed my forgiveness, even if she hadn’t forgiven herself. I also needed to forgive her—I did not want to carry this poison pill of anger toward her anymore.

The biggest pill to swallow was that by joining Violet, I was essentially exiling myself. I thought of my future plans to move deeper into the mountains, isolating myself further from Patrian life and politics, and realized that while it wasn’t necessarily the way I wanted to do it, I was still doing the same thing, just in a different setting than I originally intended.

For a fraction of a second, I had considered doing the opposite. I could deliver Violet to King Maxen, get my back pay, and go back up to my home and close the world out. I could spend time on my mountain becoming completely self-sufficient, and all it would cost me was a girl. It was akin to selling my soul, and I despised myself for having that moment of doubt. I could never trade Violet’s life—any woman’s life—for something as selfish as a mountain view and isolation. The price was too high.

While I didn’t necessarily agree with the politics between Matrus and Patrus, I had come to terms with the flaws of both places a long time ago. Cruelty didn’t have a gender qualifier behind it—it was an ever unraveling human condition, cast out by pride, power, and indifference—and both nations had their fair share of it.

Yet this small woman curled up against me had reminded me that it was the masses who were cruel, not the individual. I had built a wall up to defend against the cruelties I saw day to day, so that they couldn’t affect me. It was self-preservation, pure and simple, one born from the conviction and death of my wife.

I had mourned her. And the tragedy of her loss still ran deep inside me. I had spent so much time wondering what I could have done differently, how I could’ve helped her adjust, when the reality was that I loved her, just the way she was. But there was no place that could tolerate us both as individuals and a couple. We were doomed from the start.

I stroked Violet’s hair before gently extracting myself from her. I hadn’t been able to make my wife feel safe—or even comfortable within Patrus—but I could do something for Violet.

It was time to go talk with Ms. Dale.

She was hiding something. As an investigator, I knew that. She was trained to avoid revealing her emotions in any way, but there had been a momentary flash of surprise on her face when she was reading Lee’s letter, and I wanted to know what it was.

As I climbed the stairs, I contemplated the interrogation techniques I had learned, and completely dismissed them. Ms. Dale had probably undergone training to be immune to that. It was in what she wouldn’t reveal that I would find answers, but it was going to be tricky to do. Odds were that I wouldn’t get anything out of her. I still had to try though.

Ms. Dale appeared to be sleeping. I watched her for a few minutes running over the brief outline of a plan I had formulated on the way up. It was the only way to proceed, but I still felt a moment of apprehension as I placed my hand on the door.

I took a moment to accept the possibility that she was all she claimed to be. That she knew nothing, and was only there because of her relationship with Violet in the past.

I opened up the door and let myself inside.

Ms. Dale’s eyes were twin slits, and I could see the faintest brown sparkling from them. She opened her eyes fully and sat up, her hands smoothing the thin blanket covering her, before clasping them together.

“Thought about what I said?” she asked carefully, her face a perfect mask.

I leaned against the door, studying her. “Not really,” I lied with a little shrug.

“Don’t be an idiot, Croft,” she said pertly.

I smirked at her. “Not intending to be one,” I replied. “You don’t know me, Ms. Dale.”

There was a small twitch, at the corner of her left eye. I wouldn’t have noticed it, if it weren’t for the fact I was watching so closely.

It took experience and practice to become a good liar, and even then, there were small tells that could give a person away. A trained liar developed perfect control over their face. Ms. Dale had that mastery over her facial muscles, but I had noticed something in our last interaction, and it was something I was hoping to exploit now.

“Unless you do know me?” I said, sauntering in the room. “Of course, that would be ridiculous. Why would a simple, humble defense teacher know anything about a warden from the other side of the river? There would be no reason for you to know me.”

She stared back at me, seemingly waiting. I continued to talk, anticipating silence as a ploy from her. “Then again, you might know if you were more than a simple, humble defense teacher. If you were a spy, you would probably know a lot more.”

There it was—that subtle tightness that pulled her face tight against her skull. Her eyes went flat and hard. I remained calm—her subtle reaction wasn’t necessarily an indicator of anything just yet.

“You know, Violet is really talented,” I said abruptly, changing the subject.

Brief flashes of emotion passed over Ms. Dale’s face—surprise and confusion—before disappearing under