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

In spite of the warden's hardened and usually brooding demeanor, I picked up on a leeway with him that I doubted existed in many other men here. The only way I could think to explain it was the fact that he had been married to a Matrian girl. Marrying her must say quite a lot about him. That he liked a woman who could think for herself. A woman who could challenge him. One whose nature wasn't to be a doormat.

"Do you have any friends?" I found myself asking, interrupting his work again.

"Depends on what you define as a 'friend'," he replied.

"Well, someone you can trust, I guess. Someone you feel comfortable around. Someone you know has your back."

There was a beat before he answered, "Does that really matter to you?"

I shrugged. "Nope."

He clenched his jaw. "Then I'll ask you to keep quiet while I finish this paperwork."

I stopped annoying Viggo at his request. I moved to the window and sat down cross-legged on the floor. I gazed out at the city and what I could see of the palace for the next half hour. When I got bored with that, I took the liberty of helping myself to a few spare sheets of paper and a pen. Resuming my position by the window, I sketched the city out of boredom until Viggo announced that he was done.

As we headed out of the building and returned to Viggo's motorbike, the sun was on the verge of setting. He stuffed a couple of papers he had carried with him from the office into the compartment beneath the seat before retrieving two guns and stowing them into his belt. He covered them with his trench coat and then set his sights on the parking lot exit.

"We'll walk from here," he said. "There's a major fight on tonight. A 'big league' fight," he added, using air quotes. "So there may be some accompanying rowdiness."

"Where does the fight take place?" I asked, thinking back to Lee's scientist friends' conversation outside the restaurant. I didn't recall them mentioning the venue.

"Starkrum Stadium. We'll head there now."

We headed to the river bank and walked along the promenade before turning into a street and winding our way toward a giant dome-shaped building. Its walls were white, and at its base was a long set of glass doors, outside of which was a square where a crowd of people had already gathered to wait in line.

"Rosen versus Cruz" was the headline fight, according to the poster that hung above the entrances.

"How often are there big events like this?" I asked Viggo, my eyes running over the long line of people.

"Sometimes as many as five in a month," he said.

Approaching the building, Viggo led me around its wall, away from the crowd. We stopped outside a back entrance, a single, solid metal door. Viggo pressed a button on the intercom board and a voice crackled through it a few seconds later.

"Your name, please?"

"Croft."

"Okay. Come on in, sir."

The door clicked open and we moved inside. A staircase stood directly in front of us, which took us up to the first floor of the stadium. Surrounding us on either side were row upon row of red seats. I wasn't even sure how to start guessing how many were in here. The stadium held seven such levels altogether.

We moved to the barrier and gazed down toward the center of the building, where a huge cage was fixed. Employees in blue shirts ran about the floors like mice, scurrying to make final preparations before the doors opened. There were food vendors set up strategically, causing a scent of frying oil and fresh bread to pervade the arena.

According to the poster I'd spied outside, the fight was due to start in about fifty minutes. So I guessed that meant people should start being allowed in right about now…

Sure enough, the sound of heavy doors drawing open drifted up from downstairs, followed by thundering footsteps and chattering. There were large groups of men, but also a fair number of couples and families.

I remembered I had to be careful not to make myself too visible, in case Cad was here. I reached into my jacket pocket, where I found the cap I'd been wearing earlier while in my manly disguise. I pulled my hair into a bun before placing the hat on my head and tucking my hair beneath it. Then I lowered the cap so that it shaded my eyes.

Viggo noticed, and gave me an inquisitive look. I didn't need to explain my every action. I let him go on wondering…

He soon repositioned us so that we stood directly opposite the main entrance. I imagined he looked quite intimidating from the ground, in such clear view of everybody entering… this big, towering figure, face stern, eyes sharp, like some kind of presiding deity of the cage.

After about half an hour, Viggo moved us again. He led me down to the ground floor, where he moved with purpose, his eyes fixed in one corner of the room, near the men's restrooms. The next thing I knew, he was running forward toward a bearded man in a faded brown coat, who also suddenly sped up.

The man yelped as Viggo's hand closed around the back of his neck and shoved him up against the wall. Viggo's hand dove into the man's right coat pocket where he pulled out a black wallet.

"I don't think this belongs to you, does it?" Viggo asked, his voice dangerously low. He opened up the wallet, revealing cash and an identity card which, indeed, pictured an entirely different man.

The thief's eyes bulged.

Retaining his grip on the man, Viggo pulled him away from the bathrooms and back toward the exit. Two other wardens were waiting outside the doors. Viggo shoved the thief toward one of the wardens and said, "Thief." He held up the wallet. "Take him downtown."

The warden nodded grimly before taking charge of the man.

Viggo returned with me to the