The Gender Lie(63)

“I don’t know—what do you do?”

Desmond stood to her full height. “You get the two snakes to fight each other,” she announced. “And once they are embroiled in a war, you find your other mouse friends to watch and wait. It doesn’t matter who wins, because once one is gone and the other one is wounded, you and your mice friends can swoop in and kill the last snake.”

With that, she smiled and walked away.

I was frozen, watching her back, her words playing havoc on my mind. It didn’t take much to understand what she was getting at—she was planning on forcing a conflict between Matrus and Patrus, and then moving in afterward to claim what was left.

I felt conflicted. On the one hand, it was a cruel move, one that would leave innocent people caught in the middle. On the other hand… Desmond had demonstrated to me several times the tough calls a leader had to make for the good of her people. As I stared out at the boys, her words weighed heavily on me—which people were the right people to back? Those that lived blindly in the system, accepting it as divine scripture, or the people who had suffered at the hands of the very same system?

I spent a long time watching Viggo with the boys without paying much attention. My mind was alive with circular logic, trying to decide if I agreed with Desmond or not.





27





Viggo





I was just coming out of the shower in the locker room to the side of the playground when Violet came in. I was wearing nothing but a towel, but for once, Violet didn’t pay any notice, which only indicated her current state of mind. She was upset.

She had stayed with me all day, watching me with the boys. I had also noticed Desmond and her chatting a few minutes after my icebreaker lesson, their heads bent in a private conversation. Afterward, Violet had seemed… preoccupied. I had to repeat orders several times, seeing as I still hadn’t gotten the chance to ask Ms. Dale to help me. Desmond wouldn’t allow her to come to me—if I wanted Ms. Dale’s help, I had to go to her.

Violet would call me paranoid, but I still had my suspicions about Desmond, and her reticence to allow Ms. Dale out was troublesome. I was also worried that Violet was beginning to buy into what Desmond was telling her. Desmond had obviously earned some measure of Violet’s respect in the past month, but it was… disconcerting. I still didn’t know exactly what she stood for.

Violet sat down on a bench with her back to me, folding her hands and resting her elbows on her knees. Her gaze was fixated on the floor. Although her talk with Desmond had happened hours ago, I could still see the aftermath in her posture. There was an inner turmoil raging within her.

Sensing this was my chance to discover what was going on, I sat down next to her. She turned her head to face me, a small and hopeful smile lighting up her eyes for a few brief seconds before bleeding back into the darkness she was battling.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” she murmured.

“I, uh, saw you and Desmond earlier,” I commented.

Violet released a sigh and nodded. “She was impressed with your first day,” she said. “I was too, for the record.”

I couldn’t miss the pride in her eyes. “It was a good day,” I agreed.

“What you did with Cody was genius,” she added.

I shrugged. “It seemed like the right thing to do. The kid is strong though.”

Her expression morphed to concern. “Are you hurt? I hope you didn’t overexert yourself.”

I shook my head and laughed. “Relax. I didn’t hurt myself. It’s just hard not being in fighting form. If that kid had been smarter…” I trailed off, not needing to remind myself that working with these boys came with risk.

Violet leaned into me, resting her head against my shoulder. “Good,” she said. “Did you remember to do those exercises this morning?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, mother.”

Violet gave me a shove with her shoulder, forcing a laugh out of me.

“I mean, yes, dear,” I said.

She smiled ruefully, before crossing her eyes and sticking her tongue out at me. I was still amazed by her ability to turn the most unladylike actions into adorable mannerisms.

She gently pushed me back and looked deep into my eyes. “Speaking of parenthood… I have to say, I never saw you as the fatherly type, but…”

I froze, a small tremor of alarm rolling through me that was purely an instinctual reflex, one shared by most men when women started throwing words around like children and father.

Violet, being Violet, didn’t miss the flash of panic on my face and broke out giggling. “I wasn’t trying to imply that,” she gasped. “We’re not even in a position in our relationship to discuss that.”