The Gender War (The Gender Game #4) by Bella Forrest (read novel full TXT) 📗

sparing a glance back at the house. Another minute passed, and then the door closed up and the ship was airborne, heading toward the city—and the palace that sat overlooking it all.

Nelee had not boarded the escort ship, although she had conferred with some other Matrians as they ushered Ashabee on. She stood, peering into the sky and watching the heloship go, before turning back to the house, moving to the base of the steps. She seemed to consider something, her eyes narrowing. I could see the cold calculation in them, and I grudgingly recognized something of a kindred spirit in her—I could practically feel her mind moving, calculating all foreseeable outcomes.

A warden holding a rifle approached her. “I informed Command about the refugees,” she announced, her voice low but within range of the microphones.

Nelee said nothing, but her jaw twitched. “And?”

“They recommended the bravo contingency,” the woman supplied. “It was confirmed.”

Nelee still hadn’t stopped staring at the house, but I could see her mouth tighten further. I realized I was holding my breath, waiting for her decision.

“Then we should carry out the command,” she replied, almost tiredly. “Round everyone up. I want this clean: round them up to be detained only. Tell them it is routine and separate men, women, and children. Select the top sixty percent of the men for execution, but don’t do it in front of the others. We have our reputation to protect, after all.”

I looked over at Violet, and watched her face morph back into the diamond hardness from earlier. Her eyes met mine.

“Hide or fight?” I asked softly.

Violet clicked the safety off her gun and held it up. “Owen,” she whispered, and the blond man moved closer. I was surprised to see him—I hadn’t even noticed his arrival.

“What do you need?” he asked.

Violet’s eyes were on the monitor, watching as the wardens began to move closer together, presumably going over their plan to enter the house and passing out orders. Most of their voices were too far away to hear. “Make sure everyone is on the second floor,” Violet said. “I mean everyone. Then meet me at the top of the stairs. We don’t have a lot of time before they get in here.”

Owen nodded, then turned and ran for the stairs.

25

Violet

“C’mon,” I said to Viggo, turning away from the screen and heading swiftly toward the stairs. I heard his accompanying footsteps as he moved with me, synchronizing his pace with mine.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

I swallowed hard, trying not to be overwhelmed by the fact the Matrians probably outnumbered us four to one, if not five to one—who knew how many of them could fit inside that heloship?—and to focus instead on the essence of the problem. “We have to give them the first floor,” I said as we skirted a table holding a crystal vase filled with sweet-smelling flowers. “Too many windows and entryways for us to cover them all.”

I caught his nod from the corner of my eye. “But there are what… four stairwells?”

“Yeah—the two servants’ stairs, the grand staircase, and the one for the guests. So with you, me, Owen, Ms. Dale, and Henrik, we should be able to cover them all, and our position will be more defendable.”

I waited for his response as we climbed the steps together. I wanted his approval, because then I would know it was the best plan we could hobble together on such short notice. Finally, Viggo nodded. “It’s sound—but we need to assign someone to keep an eye on the king.”

“Henrik, then,” I replied automatically. “He’s the best choice,” I added when I saw Viggo flash a curious look at me. “Owen would probably be good too, but then again… maybe not.”

Viggo paused, mid-step, and frowned. “Do you think Owen would kill the king?”

I shrugged. It didn’t seem likely—but I couldn’t explain it, I just felt that Henrik was a better choice for this particular job. “No,” I admitted. “I just think we should use Owen on the stairs.”

“What about Jay and Tim?” he asked, and I felt my heart race at the thought of involving the boys in an actual battle.

“They need to remain hidden.” I saw Viggo’s slight surprise, and I stopped, pulling in front of him. “These are trained Matrian wardens. I don’t want to put the boys in this kind of danger. I won’t be able to concentrate if I know they’re out there.”

Viggo was about to object—I could see it in his eyes. I knew he thought we should involve them more, but my heart just couldn’t take it. I had already put Tim in so much danger since I had found him. I couldn’t do it again. Especially in a fight like this.

“Please don’t,” I said. “We don’t have time for this argument. The only way for the boys to stay safe will be with the refugees and Maxen.”

Viggo said nothing, but nodded. We both started moving again at the same time.

Ms. Dale, Henrik, and Owen were waiting for us at the top of the stairs. I stepped back, and Viggo outlined the plan, as rail-thin as it was. I turned my mind to finding other ways out of this mess. As if by afterthought, I turned and stared out the huge windows opposite the staircase. They opened onto a massive balcony, which Ashabee must have used for parties and extravagant galas. All three walls were glass—allowing people a view of the inside as well as the grounds outside.

I kept one ear on what was being said, just in case someone offered up any other ideas, but stepped closer to the glass, watching as the drive began to come into view from my position. The closer I got, the better the view was. From here, I could see the heloship, and the Matrian wardens, dressed in brown with red armbands, moving in and out of it, hauling crates marked with words too far away to make out.

But