The Gender Game 5: The Gender Fall(12)

Yes—there was Viggo, seated at the table, and something in my stomach settled to see him there safe. A redheaded girl was sitting next to him, peering at some maps in front of her. I took in the unique haircut—shaved on the sides with a riot of curls on top—and smiled. Her name was Amber, and she had helped me.

Next to her sat Owen, and across from him, a short man with a paunchy stomach and dark, beady eyes. His face was like a rat’s, sly and cunning, and I felt an odd echo of both distaste and trust. It took me a minute as his face wobbled in my vision; his name was much harder to find, but I eventually recalled that he was Thomas, and he had helped me, too. In fact… he had been with my brother.

My brother. I pushed off the wall and moved into the room. At first, no one noticed me, but I cleared my throat loudly, and everyone turned. I looked around at all of them, noting the alarm and surprise on their faces with a detached sense of curiosity. The ache in my ear pulsed; my ribs creaked as I breathed; my hand twinged; the walls of the room revolved around me gently.

Amber stood up, her violet eyes wide. My eyes dropped to her lips, watching them move. I turned my good ear toward her, and her voice came through.

“—okay, Violet?”

I nodded, my hand searching for support and fumbling with a bookcase. “I’m fine,” I insisted. Viggo was already out of his seat, his expression concerned. I focused my thoughts. “Where’s Tim?”

Amber froze and I looked around, turning my head slowly so as not to upset it, noting the expressions on everyone’s faces. They seemed… worried. Worried and sad. Well—most of them did. Thomas was wearing a strange expression, his eyes fixed pointedly on the table.

“What’s going on?” I slurred.

Viggo broke the silence, moving over to me. “Violet, Tim is missing,” he said, his voice level, his expression becoming carefully neutral. I cocked my head at him, confused. He paused, as if searching for words, and then continued. “He covered Jay and Thomas as they fled the palace after rescuing King Maxen and Quinn. Somehow, in the confusion, they lost him.”

I turned my gaze back to Thomas, studying him closely. His expression hadn’t changed much, but his head had sunk a fraction of an inch lower. That was… guilt in his eyes.

The expression was so absurd on Thomas that I felt a laugh bubbling up from my stomach and out of my throat. “Very funny, guys,” I said, smiling broadly, then wincing as my bruised face throbbed.

No one laughed.

“Tim?” I called. Amber looked away, clearly uncomfortable.

I took a few swaying steps forward, knocking over Viggo’s chair with my hip as I reached for the table, my balance threatening to give out. I couldn’t hear it fall, but I noticed Owen flinch as it hit the floor. “Tim?” I called again, my voice pleading.

“Violet, please—” Viggo said behind me, but I ignored him.

“Tim, where are you?” I cried, moving toward the door, my heart pounding. “Tim, please! Answer me.”

My breathing was coming in gasps, the pain in my ribs increasing, and I half heard Owen mumble something behind me. I tried to move closer to the door, tears streaking down my face and pattering onto my chest. I had to find my brother! He had to be here!

I was reaching for the doorknob when the world gave up trying to make sense. My legs gave out. I would’ve fallen, but Viggo was there, his strong hands grabbing me before I hit the ground. He hefted me up with a grunt, tucking me tight against his chest.

Still I stretched for the door, crying out for my brother. Viggo shushed me as he carried me back down the hallway and into my room. I protested, but he ignored me, gently setting me down onto the bed.

I looked up at him, my vision hazy, and I realized I was still crying. Viggo snarled under his breath, though I wasn’t sure why, and then picked up the blanket and slid into bed with me, covering us both. Carefully, tenderly, his arms came around me, so lightly that my ribs didn’t even twinge. My entire body warped with pain, I still angled myself toward his warmth, wanting his comfort and strength.

“I promise we will find him,” Viggo whispered in my ear, his hand trailing through my hair. I nodded, but still the tears poured from me. I cried against him, my tears soaking through his shirt, but he didn’t complain.

Eventually, unconsciousness crept up on me, and I slept.





6





Viggo





Violet’s deep, even breathing told me she had finally succumbed to sleep. I stroked her forehead, hoping that if she dreamt, the dreams would be calming, loving. I rested her back against the pillow and pulled the blanket over her shoulders, then stared at her for a minute, my eyes struggling between avoiding and seeking out the tear-stained, injured side of her face. My stomach twisted in knots as I took in the damage, searching her countenance over and over again.