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

I ran up to the room Viggo and I shared, staring around, trying to make a quick and rational list of things I might need. I hoped that Jeff could get in touch with Viggo. I wanted his advice on my plan, and I couldn’t, wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.

Of course, with the heloship, which could get to the palace in under an hour, there was a chance that I could wait to see if Viggo and Owen returned. I could push my luck until the last possible moment, just to get a glance at his face, then drag him—the one other person Henrik had said the whole group followed—into danger with me. Could this rebellion survive without both of us? I wanted to say it could, but I had no certainty. I had time to see Viggo again, if I waited.

But then I would have no time to set up my rapidly forming plan.

Tabitha had thrown down a challenge, threatened my family, taken her fight directly to what was closest to me. I was terrified, but more than that, I was angry. I was furious. I was tired of waiting for the next shoe to drop, the next body to fall lifeless to the floor. Tabitha wanted me? Fine. But if I was going down, I was taking her down with me.

I finished packing quickly. I threw the prototype egg—Mr. Jenks’ failed test—into my bag, along with a change of clothes, the bloodstained picture of Cad and his family, and a few spare clips for my pistol, which I had kept out of our shared stockpiles, just in case.

Looking around the room, my chest tightened. More than anything, I wanted to crawl underneath the covers of our bed and not come out until Viggo came back. I wanted him to find me there and tell me that it was all right, that Tabitha wouldn’t kill my entire family, that we would be able to go and take her out together.

But I couldn’t wait for him. I knew, deep down, that this rebellion couldn’t lose both of us. It would be better if he stayed here. Besides, then I would have something to come back to. I was definitely not thinking of this as a suicide mission, but I was preparing for the worst.

I placed the real egg in Viggo’s bag, which I was glad he hadn’t taken with him on his scouting mission, and then stared at it, thinking. The designs of the egg cases were identical, with one small exception. On the prototype egg, a small crack ran from the keyhole on the front up through the top. It was barely discernable, and I was reasonably sure Tabitha wouldn’t spot it. Or maybe she would attribute it to the egg’s rough journey back into her greedy hands.

I touched my neck, where the key to the real egg still hung, secured by a chain. Pulling it off my neck, I dropped the key into Viggo’s bag too, and then hesitated, running the chain through my fingers.

The door behind me creaked, and I started, a dozen possibilities flitting through my mind at once, so I didn’t know whether to hope or worry. Tim, coming to argue more; Jeff, coming to tell me that he’d gotten ahold of Viggo; Tabitha, tired of waiting and here to collect me herself… I shook the paranoia off. It was just Amber in the doorway. She stepped in quickly, closing it partially behind her.

“You ready?” she asked in a harsh whisper.

“Almost,” I said, holding up the chain. “Amber… do you know where we could get a spare key?”

Amber frowned. “Well, the servants would probably have some for the pantry and stuff… But most of our locks are digital…”

I shook my head. Did I want to risk bringing the original key? Or not bringing it, if Tabitha noticed? “Those would be too big anyway. We need a tiny one, one that would look like it would fit into that keyhole—” I indicated the one on the egg, glinting at the top of Viggo’s bag.

Amber stared for another moment, and then a low, wicked smile flashed across her face. “I think I’ve got it,” she said. “I’ll be right back.” I could hear her footsteps pelting away as she ran down the hallway.

I shoved clothes into the top of Viggo’s bag to cover up the real egg and then paced, restlessly going over my strategies for the other two missing pieces of my plan until Amber returned. She hadn’t been gone long, and she pushed through the doorway holding up a tiny silver key on a loop of pink ribbon.

My mouth dropped open. It was perfect. “What is…”

“It’s the key to my old diary,” Amber said, with a smile that looked both sheepish and fierce. “It’s probably better if nobody ever opens it again.”

I couldn’t help but smirk at the thought; Amber smirked back, and I was suddenly tremendously glad she was coming with me.

“Thank you,” I said. “It’s perfect.” We took the tiny key off the pink ribbon, which Amber tossed resentfully to the floor, and I threaded the key onto the chain on my neck.

“All right,” I said. “Next on the list.”

We made our way downstairs and hooked a left, heading for the dining room. There were people moving in and out of the house, but I remained cool, nodding at the mostly new volunteers as they went past. In some ways, it was better that most of the group members I was closest to were out at the moment. I had no reason to think that any one of the refugee recruits or Ashabee’s staff would find it unusual for me to be walking fast with a packed bag over my shoulder—though Amber’s dirty appearance, even after she’d changed her clothes, brought us a few stares. Still, my stomach tied itself into knots whenever I felt eyes on me, even casually.

I pushed open the security room