The Gender Lie

  I felt myself softening, and finally, that small voice that had been in the back of my mind the past week roared to the forefront, reminding me that Violet had gone through hell to save me. She wouldn’t do that unless she cared. And I had chased her off.

  I felt guilty all over again, and I started to look away when she grabbed my jaw. “Nuh-uh,” she said, shaking her head. “You owe me an explanation. So talk—what was with the dismissal?”

  I hesitated. I had been carefully planning what I was going to say during our week apart, but now, looking at her, I wasn’t sure I could find the right words, and I was afraid that if I didn’t, it would chase her off again.

  I felt her hand slide into mine and squeeze gently. “Vi… I just felt like… I couldn’t keep up with you. I felt weak and… impotent. It made me worry about the future and my part in yours. I didn’t like the idea that I was holding you back. If we were on the run… the only thing I could possibly do to keep you safe is catch a bullet for you.”

  She frowned, squeezing my hand tighter. “You big dumb idiot,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re always worried about what you can give to me, or how you can help me… but it doesn’t work like that: We’re a team, and sometimes you need help just as much as I do. So keep your Patrian-indoctrinated testosterone out of our relationship, please and thank you.”

  I laughed in surprise at her words, and then pulled her back in for a hug, one that, I was pleased to note, she returned.

  When we broke apart again, Violet managed to look happy and sad at the same time. Reaching out, I touched her face. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  I listened as she explained what had gone down with her brother, and how he had opted to return to his cell. I recalled his words earlier today, and frowned.

  “Violet, how many boys are there?” I asked.

  “Over a thousand. There are fifty-five rows, each row containing twenty-six cells.”

  I did the math in my head and gaped at her. “Each one has a boy?”

  Her eyes drifted to the blanket, her mouth twisting downward. “No. Some of the boys… they died in their cells. Most from self-inflicted wounds, but a few starved themselves. I guess… I guess their suffering was too much for them to handle.” I grimaced at the news, my heart contracting.

  “That’s why I took the Benuxupane to Desmond this morning,” she added after a minute. “I didn’t think about it until today, but maybe it could help them contain these volatile reactions.”

  I listened intently, but the idea of drugging them seemed wrong to me. These were boys taken at a young age and told there was something wrong with them, and then subjugated to experimentation on their DNA. They didn’t need more experimental drugs… they needed discipline and camaraderie. They needed each other, and people to teach them.

  “You’re thinking of something clever, aren’t you?” she said, studying my face intensely, her words more of a statement then a question.

  “I… I don’t think giving the boys medication is the right solution,” I said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean… medication isn’t really what they ultimately need. What they need is discipline, and the opportunity to learn how to socialize again.”

  Violet’s eyes drifted upward, apparently in deep thought as she processed my words. I waited patiently for her response. “What are you proposing?” she asked finally.

  “These boys are cooped up. They have been for a long time. In a cell, barely big enough to even exercise in. Children naturally have more energy than adults, and when they are unable to vent it, they start to throw tantrums or get upset. What happens after that, though? They still have energy, with no way to expend it.”

  Violet nodded slowly, and I pressed on. “We’ve got to get the boys out of their cells and into mandatory exercise. Break them down—not like they have been before, but in a way that gives them a goal. A collective goal. Have the ones who are more stable help the ones who aren’t. Help them rely on each other—after all, only they know what they’re going through—we don’t. We don’t even have the words to help them, but if we can get them to start helping each other…” I trailed off, and Violet picked up the thread, excitement heavy in her voice.

  “Then they will start to improve!”

  I shrugged. “It’s worth a try.”

  “I think it’s a lot more than that. I know that when I was in martial arts classes, I felt closer to my classmates than anyone else, excluding my family. That’s really clever, Viggo! Much better than my idea.”

  I started to reply, before I realized she had bounced off the bed and was halfway across the room. “Where are you going?” I asked, and she cast a beatific smile over her shoulder.

  “I’m going to see if Desmond has time to hear your idea,” she called as she walked out the door.

  I frowned and opened my mouth to protest, but Violet was already gone.

  An hour later, Violet was sitting in the chair, watching Desmond’s face closely as I explained my idea. Desmond listened attentively to me as I spoke, and I kept a careful eye on her. After I finished, I waited patiently, curious as to how she would react.

  Desmond’s eyes shifted back and forth between us, consideration on her face. After a moment, she smiled. “There is a lot of merit in your suggestion, Mr. Croft, and I would love it if you took the lead on this. I’d like you to start off with a small group of children—the ones deemed the least dangerous—and send me a daily update. Are you amenable to that, Mr. Croft?”

  I eyed her warily, surprised at her rapid agreement. Every inflection of her voice, every change in her face, seemed genuine, and I was beginning to doubt my earlier assessment of her. I had no true reason to doubt her intentions, yet I still found myself feeling guarded and suspicious.

  “It is, with two conditions,” I said after a pause. I felt Violet’s gaze on me, but I kept my attention on Desmond, watching her reactions closely.

  She gave a small amused smile, but her eyes were wary. “And what would those be?”

  “The first is that Tim is in the first group.”

  Violet beamed at me, joy lighting up her eyes.

  “He can be,” Desmond said. “What is your second condition?”

  I braced myself before stating, “I want Melissa Dale to help me.”

  Immediately, dark shadows flooded into Desmond’s eyes, and her entire face tightened. “No,” she said flatly, her tone low and lethal. “She is not permitted to leave her cell without my permission, and I am not granting it.”

  I crossed my arms. “I find your reaction to her confusing,” I remarked. “After all, she did kill one of your enemies. Regardless of what her status was at the time, if there was anybody who ever needed a second chance, it would be her. Why do you distrust her so much?”

  Desmond’s mouth twisted in disgust. “Did you forget that she is a spy of Matrus? The instant we give her any freedom, she will use it to try to find a way to escape. If she manages that, she’ll bring the entire force of the Matrian wardens here, and the queen will probably assign some of her advanced sisters here. You nearly died the last time a princess came around. Are you so eager to face them again?”

  “Did you forget that you were also a spy of Matrus?” I shot back, and she frowned, a crease forming between her eyebrows.

  “It’s not the same. I changed. My loyalties changed when my son was taken.”

  “And hers changed when she pulled the trigger and killed a princess,” Violet interjected.

  Desmond stared at her, then closed her eyes. I could see her warring with indecision, her internal debate playing out in the way she moved and remained quiet. Violet and I exchanged glances while Desmond breathed steadily.

  She held that position until she cracked her eyes open. “All right,” she conceded through tight teeth. “I will allow Ms. Dale out of her cell, only when there is training. When she is not training, she is back in her cell, and when she is not in her cell, she is in chains. This is non-nego
tiable, and the only time I will offer this deal. What do you say?”

  I shrugged and looked at Violet, who also shrugged. “It sounds good to me,” I said, looking back at Desmond and giving her a broad smile.

  She narrowed her gaze at me, and then smiled back. “Good,” she said cheerily. “Now, I understand you’re in recovery, Mr. Croft, but you’ll need to get started quickly. Please send me a list of what you need and your overall plan when you get a chance today. I’m giving you a month before we review the results and decide to proceed.”

  “A month isn’t enough time to—” I started to argue, when Violet cut in over me.

  “A month will be fine. I’m sure we’ll have some positive feedback by then.” I glanced at her from the corner of my eye, and she met my gaze with an encouraging expression.

  I nodded, following her lead.

  “All right, you two,” Desmond said, glancing at her watch. “It’s time for me to move on… Enjoy the rest of your day.”

  And, without further preamble, Desmond walked out.

  Watching her walk away, I still felt unsettled by her, but only had a vague feeling to support it.

  More than once as I was speaking, I had felt like Desmond had been on the verge of denying all of my requests until Violet chimed in. It was odd—could it have been because I was a Patrian? I knew that Desmond had recruited Patrians, but maybe she just didn’t know how to interact with them well.

  I turned to Violet, feeling baffled. “I don’t think she likes me very much,” I said after a moment.

  Violet smirked.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” she said with a laugh. “It’s just that she said the same thing about you.”

  I furrowed my brows. “I guess it was the fact that I antagonized her when I first met her.”

  “What did you say?” she asked.

  I shot her a grin. “I called her gutsy for acting so blunt,” I responded cockily.

  “That does sound like you,” Violet replied.

  “A devilishly good interrogator?”

  She shook her head. “Paranoid is a word that could be used,” she said.

  “Hm… I prefer cautious myself.”

  “Suspicious?” Violet suggested.

  “How about vigilant?”

  “Disbelieving in a good thing?”

  “Could we go with attentive instead? I think disbelieving sends out the wrong message.”

  “Fair enough,” Violet conceded. “Listen… I know you have your reasons for not trusting her, and I get that. Oh, believe me I do. I was hard on her, too… Granted… I kept quiet until after the mission to get your laser, but I’ve gotten under her skin a few times.”

  “Really?” I asked. “Over what?”

  She gave a little shrug. “Philosophical ideas, mainly. But I have to say… I kind of like her now. She’s very… reasonable? I don’t know what word to use, but she did keep her promise to help you, and that earned her some trust points in my book.”

  “Do I have any trust points in your book?” I asked.

  Violet narrowed her eyes.

  “Barely,” she replied dryly and I chuckled, pulling her into my arms yet again.

  “Did I tell you I walked today?” I whispered into her ear. She leaned back, her face glowing with pride.

  “You did not,” she stated.

  I nodded. “Three whole steps before my legs gave out.”

  She pressed her nose to mine. “Guess that means you’ve got to make it to five steps before you earn a kiss from me,” she whispered, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

  “Oh really?” I said, widening my eyes. “Well… Challenge accepted.”

  26

  Violet

  I sat with my knees to my chest and my arms wrapped around them, watching intently as Viggo led the group of boys in the drill. The last week and a half had been a blur of activity: Viggo had taken the time to focus solely on getting stronger and preparing his training program for the boys, and I had been with him every step of the way. Today was his first day of training, as well as his first day walking all the way down six flights of stairs. I had been concerned, but Viggo had paced himself, and we took scheduled breaks. We were actually going to be staying in one of the interrogation rooms for an indefinite period of time, until Viggo was good enough to make it up and down the stairs once a day.

  I was proud of the progress he had made in the past eleven days. He didn’t complain, not once, and he was more reasonable with his expectations. But what made me the proudest was when he actually asked me to stop ahead of our scheduled break. It was a sign that his male-driven ego was taking a backseat, which made me feel closer to him than before.

  I watched him as he sat in a circle with the boys, trying to engage them in conversation. He was asking them what their names were and where they were from. Some of the boys were too shy or nervous to answer, their eyes wide as they stared at the much larger male in front of them in fear and awe. Yet Viggo wasn’t dissuaded in the face of their timidity—he kept his voice calm and even. I smiled as Tim spoke up, introducing himself to everyone, eliciting an encouraging nod from Viggo. After Tim, more boys started speaking up, earning a praising smile, a proud nod, or a congratulation for their bravery.

  Once they were finished, Viggo announced, “That was very good.” I was pleased to see some of the boys blushing. “My name is Viggo Croft, and I was born in Patrus. I served as a warden for King Maxen, but if I had been born in Matrus and subjected to the test, I would have failed it like you. Sometimes life isn’t fair like that, but I want to help you.”

  “I’m sure you can’t help us,” declared one boy, his eyes and posture that of pure hostility. He was around thirteen or fourteen, and stout for his age. As he spoke, I was reminded that the trauma of isolation had affected the boys differently. Tim was exceptionally quiet and slow to articulate, like he had locked away a part of his mind in order to survive. There were several like him, and there were also those who had regressed so far, they were downright catatonic. And then there were boys like this one, who could speak in full, confident sentences.

  Viggo looked at the boy and knitted his brows. “Why do you say that?”

  The boy scowled and looked around for support, but none of the other boys offered any.

  Viggo looked at the others. “Come on,” he encouraged. “You have every right to speak up if you feel the same way Cody does.”

  Cody blinked in surprise as Viggo called him by name. I was impressed as well—I didn’t know if I could have remembered his name either, but then again, Viggo had spent a good chunk of his recovery time vetting candidates for the first batch of boys, so I wasn’t too surprised that he had memorized their names beforehand.

  One of the other boys spoke up, shifting nervously. “The people… the Liberators said they would help us, but we’ve been waiting for a long time for them to do anything, and all they do is send strangers to try to talk to us.”

  I frowned—several of the Liberators had taken it upon themselves to try to visit the boys, to remind them they weren’t alone, but I hadn’t realized that weeks of it had begun to grate on the boys.

  “What makes you any different?” Cody asked Viggo loudly, and I saw several boys agree.

  Viggo met Cody’s gaze steadily. “You have to decide that for yourself, Cody. But I’d like you to give me a chance. I think this might have a lot of potential to help you, if you let it. And, at the very least, you get out of your cell for a day.”

  Cody looked unconvinced, but backed down. Viggo looked around the circle. “Anyone else have any concerns?”

  The boys shook their heads in unison, and he smiled. “Then let’s go over the rules, shall we?”

  There was a flurry of head movement around the circle, but they all seemed willing to hear him out.

  “Now, I know what you’re thinking: Rules are awful,” Viggo went on. “However, if this is going to work, we have to follow them. All of us, even me. The first rule
is simple—Wait.”

  The boys began whispering to each other, their confusion evident.

  Viggo held up a hand and the whispers died down. “See? You didn’t wait,” he said, and some of the boys chuckled.

  “I understand that one of the side-effects of what happened to you is intense feelings of anger or fear that make you do things you don’t necessarily want to do. When that happens, whether it is wanting to hurt someone or run away, I want you to wait before you do it.”

  The whispers started again, and Viggo let them run on for a moment. One boy stood up and the noise died.

  “What do we do after we wait?” he asked in a reed-thin voice.

  “I’m glad you asked, Matthew,” Viggo said, gesturing for him to sit back down. “Because after you wait, you need to go to the second rule to decide what to do next. That rule is: Look to your brothers.”

  Again, there was a flurry of whispers and confused looks.

  “Look to your brothers, meaning each other,” Viggo clarified. “If the other boys aren’t reacting the same way as you, then the emotions you are feeling were triggered by your condition. Hopefully, that will help you to calm down, and think about what made you feel that way.”

  Another boy, who looked far more confident than Matthew, asked, “What good is that going to do?”

  “Excellent question, Saul,” Viggo said, and the boy nodded and waited for Viggo’s answer. “You have to learn to rely on each other. Right now, your emotions aren’t in your control, and that scares people. If you ever want to live a normal life again, you have to be able to keep your emotions in check.”

  “It’s not so easy,” shouted Cody, his face going red. “You’re normal! We’re freaks.”

  “You’re not freaks,” said Viggo quickly, his voice thundering out loudly, cutting off the boys’ conversation before it started. “You’re not,” he repeated, meeting their collective gaze. “You’re still human beings, worthy of respect and admiration. But you have to earn it, and you never will, unless you have the courage to fight back—not just against those who hurt you, but against yourselves.”