“Hm?” the man responded, his eyes never leaving the computer screen.
“Why not?” He opened his mouth, and I cringed, hastily adding, “Simplest language!”
The reply on his lips died and he cocked his head, seeming to think this over. “Data doesn’t move quickly enough—there are restrictions to it—I time out and have to start all over again. It’s impossible from here.”
“If we crossed the border, could you do it from over there?”
“Of course I could… o-over there, you said?” Thomas spun in the chair, his eyes wide and almost childlike with alarm. “In Matrus, you mean?”
I nodded, and Thomas immediately began shaking his head. “Oh no! I’m not going over there! That’s where Desmond is. Do you have any idea what she’ll do if she finds me? I’m not going there, no thank you!”
I scratched the back of my neck and grimaced. “You might not have a choice. We need to find any stockpiles she might have there first, because that’s the closest to where she’s keeping the boys.” In our exhaustive planning meeting several nights ago, the group of us had finally figured that this was our best bet.
Thomas was unmoved. “You need to find those stockpiles. I need to stay here.”
“But more and more people will die if we don’t do this!” I argued, appalled by his blasé attitude.
Thomas gave me a cold look. “Better them than me,” he retorted. And with that, he turned back around and began going through things again. I opened my mouth to explain to him that there was a ‘we,’ and that yes, he was going to help us, like it or not, when a knock sounded on the door.
I turned and saw Owen standing in the doorway. “Everything okay in here? I thought I heard… bickering?”
I stood up, relieved beyond words that Owen was there. “Excellent timing,” I said, standing up from where I had been perched on a desk behind Thomas. “I need you to explain to Thomas that if we go into Matrus, he’s coming with us.”
Owen just sighed resignedly, not surprised by the situation at all, and I clapped him on the shoulder and pushed past him, leaving him to deal with the Thomas situation. I wasn’t sure what Owen had done to earn that level of consideration from Thomas, but I was prepared to create and award him a medal for being able to endure what I could not.
“Thomas,” I heard Owen say as I left the room, “do you have any intel about Amber? And what’s all this about not coming to Matrus with us?” I quickly tuned out the reply.
I paused in the dining room, taking a moment to collect my wits from that very trying and irritating conversation. Then I noticed Ms. Dale sitting in the corner, perched on one of the serving tables. Her eyes and nose were red, and I could tell she had been crying.
I stood up and moved over to her, her sniffle tearing me apart a little inside. It wasn’t that she was crying; I knew her well enough by now to know she had the capacity to show real emotion. No, it was from the fact that she was trying to hide it.
“Hey, Melissa,” I said softly, as I settled in next to her. “How is he?”
Ms. Dale looked down at the floor, her hands grasping hard at the edge of the table. “Don’t know,” she said after a moment. “Doctor chased me out.”
I sighed and reached over, putting my arm over her shoulder. She gave me a confused look, and I rolled my eyes, but drew her closer in to my side. “It’s a thing people do to offer comfort, Melissa,” I chided her teasingly.
She gave me a glare out the corner of her eye, but didn’t push my arm away. “I know,” she murmured, dabbing at her eye with the shredded remains of a tissue. “I used to be a pretty good spy, remember?”
“Yeah… whatever happened with that?” I joked, and then winced when she playfully punched me in the shoulder. “Not the face,” I said, holding up my hand in defense when she pulled back for another blow. “It’s Violet’s favorite part!”
I lowered my hand enough to see that Ms. Dale was again crying, and I squeezed her closer, wrapping my arm around her. I wasn’t sure what I had said that had set her off, but it was probably to do with mentioning Violet. Maybe it was that Violet and I still had each other, while she had just started to feel that way for somebody that she might be about to lose. Whatever it was, I couldn’t help but feel bad for her.
“It’ll be okay,” I whispered, and she jerked away a little, a mulish stamp of incredulity on her face.
“No, it won’t,” she retorted harshly. “There’s so much damage, Viggo. We thought it was one and done, but the damn bullet ricocheted. Inside him.” Her voice broke then, and I pulled her closer to me again, until she was sobbing onto my shoulder.
“I’m so sorry, Melissa,” I whispered. “I really hope he pulls through. He’s a tough man.”
She sniffled, her shoulders stilling under my hands, and I felt her pull away again. “I hope he does too,” she said. “I was just… I was just getting to know him. God, I never thought I’d feel this way about a P…” She trailed off, her eyes meeting mine in alarm, and I had to smile, remembering how far I had come with this hostile woman.
“Patrian?” I teased, amused even more when she flushed bright red. “It’s all right—he’s still a Patrian, and so am I.”
“I know,” she sniffed. “I just… I always thought your kind were so…”
“Arrogant?” I supplied. It was her favorite nickname for me, after all.
“Presumptuous,” she replied tartly. “But Henrik… he was just so… kind. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I was kind of leading him on when he was supposed to be guarding me in the cell. But… he was just so respectful, you know?”
I chuckled, but the image of Ms. Dale leading anyone on was so foreign that I couldn’t imagine it. And in some ways, it was better that I didn’t. Then the weird image would have just popped up at any inopportune moment. “Just goes to show that we all can’t fall for that Matrian propaganda,” I teased.
She blew out a sharp breath as her eyes narrowed at me. “Shall we compare the literature, Mr. Croft?” she asked, and I smiled, relieved that somewhere under all this vulnerability, the woman with hard edges was still there.
“Not today,” I replied wryly. “But… are you feeling better, at least?”
She sniffed, dabbing her eyes again with that tattered tissue, and nodded. “I’ll pull through,” she whispered, and I felt my heart break a little. On impulse, I wrapped my arm around her, and placed a kiss on her forehead.
“Good,” I replied, letting her go. She was looking at me in confusion and wonder as her fingers touched the place my lips had just been. “I’d be lost without you, you old bird,” I added.
Ms. Dale narrowed her eyes again, but I could see an amused gleam surfacing there. She blotted her eyes once more, and, no longer able to stand her using the same abused piece of tissue, I opened one of the nearby drawers and pulled out a napkin, handing it to her.
“Thank you,” she said, dropping the wad of tissue on the table.
I nodded and crossed my arms, taking her in and deciding that now it might be helpful to move on to less sensitive topics. “How are the preparations going?” I asked.
Ms. Dale had volunteered to go on today’s recon mission—she was going to check out a location that Ashabee had recommended before he was taken. He had claimed it was an abandoned farm about two hours away. It was supposedly isolated and difficult to find, so we were hoping to use it for a base.
Ms. Dale straightened her back and nodded, some of her old confidence flowing back into her. “They’re going okay—I’ve got a few people willing to go with me, and they’re loading up some extra fuel and food into the truck. I figure two hours out, two to three hours to make sure the area is viable, another two hours back.”
I nodded again. “I was thinking of going out on a recon mission as well,” I admitted. “Did you get to see Ashabee’s secret stash of weapons yet?”
“Oh, did I.” There—another gleam of Ms. Dale’s old self. “I think we could run several revolutions with all that equipment.”
/> I sighed darkly. “Let’s hope we don’t have to. Anyway, Violet’s busy packing, but Owen and I are probably going to take one of those smaller, less conspicuous cars out for a test drive and see if we can spot any more groups of refugees before they head our way. And if we go the opposite direction from you, we can watch out for possible new locations in that area, too.”
“Efficient,” Ms. Dale noted. “And an excellent way to get out of this house for a while.” I knew she was thinking of her own mission as well as mine.
We sat there in comfortable silence for a little while longer. “I should be going,” she said finally, sighing a bit. “One can only cry in the corner for so long.”
I looked her in the eye. “Be careful, okay?”
Ms. Dale gave me a smile as she slowly eased herself up from the table. “Did you know I was never in this much danger until I met you? No? Must be a coincidence.” Her tone was light and airy.
I chuckled then, unable to stop myself as I felt the familiar stinging presence of my old enemy-turned-friend finally returning. It was a nice moment of normality, one I desperately needed.
And from the look of it, one that Ms. Dale needed as well. I just hoped I had cheered her up a little bit. If it was the only thing I wound up accomplishing today, then it would be worth it just to chase away her tears, if only for a moment.
30
Violet
A couple hours after my conversation with Owen, here I was again, back in the kitchen. Still organizing food, although, thrillingly, I’d moved on from cans to packaged starches. Viggo had pecked me on the cheek a little over an hour ago, announcing that with Tim, Jay, and Jeff overseeing the refugees, Ashabee’s staff supervising the king, and Thomas manning the security system—and, of course, me there to hold everybody together—he and Owen felt okay about taking one of Ashabee’s cars out on a short scouting mission of their own.
I hadn’t argued. We couldn’t exactly spare Viggo and Owen from our defenses if there was an attack, but at the same time, the quicker we found a place to relocate, the quicker we could move. If Viggo and Owen found a suitable place before Ms. Dale did, the risk would be worth it. My mental timer of how long we had before the Matrians returned was quickly running out, and I was anxious. If worst came to worst, I figured, all of us could hole up in Ashabee’s secret room, where we might easily escape notice, and defend ourselves for days if we were found.
And after all we had gone through in this house in the last forty-eight hours, it made me happy to see Viggo excited again, even if it was just about getting to drive one of Ashabee’s high-tech vehicles. It was good to see Viggo turning his mind forward—keeping busy was the best way to keep from dwelling on what was lost. His robotic mannerisms still lingered, but getting away from the house would help, I hoped. After giving his motorcycle to Amber, he could use another distraction.
I was most of the way through the extensive ‘rice’ section of my inventory when Tim rushed in, his eyes wide. “Amber here,” he announced. I stalled, food package in hand, and turned toward him, wondering if I’d heard him correctly.
“Amber? She’s… here?” I repeated. That didn’t make the slightest bit of sense. She and Quinn were supposed to be far over the border by now, heading toward The Green and the Liberator base.
Tim nodded, his hands tensed at his sides. “Scared. Wants you. B…blood.”
My hand fumbled with the package, letting it fall to the counter as his last word registered, my stomach clenching with dread. “Let’s go,” I said shortly, and followed him.
Both of us broke into a run halfway across the house, and within a few minutes we were outside in the front yard, heading toward the massive truck Thomas had left parked in the driveway. As I rounded the corner, I became aware of panicked breathing.
“Please,” Amber begged, her voice hollow, dry and cracked. “I need Violet.”
“I’m here,” I said, pushing past Jay and grabbing Amber’s shoulders. She sagged in my hands, sinking down on the bumper of the truck, as if her legs wouldn’t hold her upright anymore. Dried blood splattered her plain t-shirt and smeared her jeans, and I felt it under my hands as I held her shoulders.
“Violet, we were grabbed,” she said, staring straight ahead, her lovely violet eyes wide and reddened, tear tracks streaking her cheeks. “Interrogated. Quinn… they…” Her voice broke, and her shoulders jerked under my hands as she sobbed.
I looked at Jay and Tim, wondering if they had any context for this at all.
“We don’t know,” Jay whispered quietly. “She used her code to get in, and grabbed us to get you. She said she needed to talk to you specifically.”
I turned back to Amber, trying to be gentle. “Amber, I need you to tell me what happened. As clearly as you can. Where’s Quinn? How did you get hurt?” The blood looked like it was at least a few hours old, but if she was hurt, we had to get her medical attention right away.
“It isn’t mine,” Amber breathed. “It’s Quinn’s. Oh God, Violet… they cut him… cut into him.”
“Cut him?” Agonizing images rushed into my mind, along with a blinding fear. “Who did? Is he… is he dead?”
Amber gave me a pained look and took in a shuddering breath. “I don’t know,” she said. “He was unconscious when they let me go. I don’t know if he’s still alive now.”
I pulled her up to her feet, forcing her to meet my gaze. “Why did they let you go?” I asked, one huge fear standing out in my mind. “Are they following you?”
Amber’s face fell, and she shook her head, the blood draining from her face. “They don’t have to. I told them where we were. Once they… when they started to hurt him. I told them everything. They know where you are.”
I breathed in sharply at her answer, my eyes jumping from her face to scan the wall, the gate, the sky, my ears straining for heloship motors.
“They aren’t coming—not yet, anyway,” Amber said softly, and I turned, giving her my full attention once again.
“Why… why not? Amber, who was it? Why did they let you go?”
The next word out of her mouth sounded like it came straight from a nightmare. My right hand throbbed as if in memory, and I had to fight down a wave of panic.
“T…Tabitha,” Amber sniffed, her voice going low with anguish. She met my gaze, her face reflecting her shame. “She wanted me to deliver a message,” she whispered.
I stared at her as she reached into the pocket of her pants, withdrawing a folded piece of paper, the edges stained with blood. Wordlessly, I accepted it, my left hand trembling slightly. As I unfolded it, I realized it wasn’t just letter paper. It was a photograph. I stared at the picture, my heart seizing as I looked at the family portrait of my aunt, my uncle, Cad, and presumably his wife and two children—a boy and a girl. I met Amber’s gaze, my hand shaking.
“What… what does she want?”
“You,” Amber rasped, “the egg, and… King Maxen.”
I shook my head, unable to comprehend what was happening. I had been prepared for a war, for wardens arriving at our doorstep, for tactical procedures and troop placement. I hadn’t been prepared for this kind of blow. I closed my eyes, trying to calm the churning of my stomach and the accelerated beating of my heart. This wasn’t supposed to have happened. Alejandro was supposed to have warned them. They should have run, dammit.
“Was Alejandro there? Did you see them? How were they?” I asked, the questions pouring out of me in rapid succession.
Amber’s lips parted at the intensity in my voice, and I realized I had taken a step toward her, my fury and panic washing over into her eyes. Tim and Jay both looked at me, alarm growing on their faces, and I took a step back, trying to maintain my calm.
“Sorry,” I breathed. “But… please, Amber. Just tell me what you can.”
Amber nodded and visibly pulled herself together, one ragged breath at a time. When she was ready, she straightened up and spoke, almost robotically.
“The place where we wer
e supposed to cross the border was going to add an extra six hours to our travel time, which meant six hours of riding in enemy territory. Quinn knew there was a closer spot, and we decided to try crossing there instead. We knew it was a gamble, but we figured… with the motorcycle…” She trailed off, her eyes drifting away, filled with shadows. “They caught us. Took the tires of the bike out—I was knocked out… Quinn must’ve broken his arm. When I came to, we were in the palace. Tabitha was there. We… we were facing each other, and she just started… cutting Quinn. In front of me. He kept crying out, begging her to stop… and she kept asking me where you were and where the egg was…” She looked at me, her eyes filling with tears again. “I had to give her this location, Violet,” she pleaded.
“Amber,” I said, looking her into the eyes, “I get it. Completely. If it had been Viggo… or even Owen… I would’ve told Tabitha whatever she wanted. This isn’t your fault.”
Amber sniffled and wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. “Tabitha taunted us about Desmond,” she admitted, between clenched teeth. “She called us blind underlings… She was right.”
I shook my head. “No, Amber. It’s not your fault. It’s nobody’s fault. Just… tell me? About Cad and… and the rest of my family.”
“Right,” she rasped. “She showed them to me… after. They were… They were scared, but they hadn’t been hurt. Tabitha will hurt them, though. And… And there’s more.”
I gaped—what more could there possibly be? I didn’t want to hear any more, but I had no choice. “What?”
“I don’t think she wanted us to hear this part, but… there’s going to be an announcement on the news channels and via the tickers soon. I heard… I heard it being discussed in the hall when she was speaking to one of her soldiers. Two other people—I think one of them was from the press… Tabitha and Dobin… they’re going to be announcing their engagement.”
I almost swallowed my tongue. Engagement?
Amber continued. “They made… a deal together, to decide the future of Patrus. If Tabitha bears him a boy, she will divorce him and leave Patrus in the care of Dobin, but with a new trade agreement on… produce or something. However, if she bears a girl… Tabitha will be given the rights of regency over the heir, and rule in her name until her daughter comes of age… and becomes the first queen of Patrus.”