The Gender Game (6 page)

“Then what's the point of training?”

“Because it will push your comfort zone—something you need to get used to for your time in Patrus. Moreover, it's what Mr. Jenks wants, so let's start."

She set up a target—a rotting log—before picking up the nearest weapon to her, a handgun. She began demonstrating how to stand, aim and fire. She hit the target dead in the center, several times over, before passing the gun to me. It felt cold and heavy in my gloved hand. And so very foreign.

I spread my feet apart as she instructed, assuming a firm stance before taking my aim. I missed wildly.

She made me try again and again, until I got closer to the target. It took me all of two hours to hit the exact center.

"Good," Ms. Dale said. "Let's move on to something larger."

Great
. Larger and probably noisier.

I had been on edge the whole time, constantly glancing around the clearing, afraid that our noise would draw unwanted attention from the creatures of The Green.

Ms. Dale picked up the gun with the longest barrel and handed it to me after a brief explanation of the differing mechanisms between this and the previous firearm. Then she allowed me to fire. It didn't take me nearly as long to succeed in hitting the target with this. I was warming up, I supposed.

She made me try out a third gun, and then a fourth. By the time three p.m. struck, I was famished.

"We'll continue practice after lunch," she said, taking my gun from me and resting it on the dead trunk along with the others. "Let's head back. There's food in the trunk."

As she placed the backpack on her shoulders without the guns, I frowned.

"You're just going to leave those here?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. "They'll be here when we return. It's not like there are thieves roaming around in this place."

We traipsed back the way we'd come and returned to the truck. The wardens looked thoroughly bored. Judging from the bag of dirty napkins on the floor in front of the passenger's seat, they'd found something to eat already.

It was a quick lunch and we rested for another fifteen minutes before returning to the clearing for our afternoon session.

We resumed where we had left off, and by the time darkness began to close in—which was as early as six-thirty due to the denseness of The Green—I had worked with every single weapon Ms. Dale had brought with us. I'd definitely had my comfort zone pushed, but once I'd gotten the hang of the technique, it wasn’t nearly as difficult as I’d envisioned. Wielding a gun had started to come naturally to me. That didn’t make me any less afraid of the weapons, though—not so much of being shot at as afraid of the damage I could inflict with them myself. I had a hard enough time controlling my fists.

We packed everything up, headed to the truck, and journeyed back to the palace. It was late by the time I arrived in my room. We'd hit rush hour on the way back and been delayed. Ms. Dale told me she would greet me at nine the next morning.

Except for a chambermaid to bring me some dinner, nobody came to see me that night. I'd thought that Alastair might, but perhaps he wouldn't bother until the papers were ready—supposedly in two days.

With my arm muscles sore and body aching, I slept far more easily that night, though my slumber was punctuated with a nightmare involving echoing gunshots, red flies, and silver snakes.

* * *

T
he next two
days passed in much the same manner as the first, except that Ms. Dale varied the weapons she taught me to use. On the second day, we focused on crossbows and knives, and on the third, she brought along a sack full of more common objects. Every day items that could be turned into weapons, like pens, rope, and hair pins.

We met with a few more scares from the wildlife—like a pack of wolves Ms. Dale warded off with an explosion of gunshots, and a horde of venomous spiders raining from the trees. But otherwise, thanks to her experience in this environment, things went as smoothly as I could have expected them to go.

I could have sworn, though, at one point, that I actually saw the shadow of a person darting through the trees—or some other kind of creature that stood tall and upright. But it vanished quickly, before I could even point it out to Ms. Dale, leading me to conclude it was the mist playing tricks on my eyes.

At the end of the third day, we finished half an hour early and sat together on the log, steeling ourselves for the journey back.

I sensed melancholy in my trainer. Melancholy that I shared. Neither of us knew when, or if, we would ever see each other again.

She gazed down at her gloved hands, her feet grazing the soil.

"I saw that you were a disturbed girl," she said quietly. "But I never thought it would come to this."

I stared at my own hands. "Neither did I."

"I wish I could have done something to help keep you out of trouble. I know you cared about my opinion."

"I doubt there's much you could have done," I muttered.
I was on a collision course.

I was beyond wanting to explain the details of the murders I'd committed to Ms. Dale, because the details didn't matter. All Matrus saw was that I had claimed two lives.

"Maybe encouraging you to pursue the occupation of a warden was a mistake on my part," she said, as though she hadn't heard me. "Maybe you should have been channeled into something tamer, though it would've been a waste. You were my best student."

I dug my nails into the log. She was speaking as though this second lease on life I'd been granted by Alastair was hardly much better than being put down.

"Ms. Dale… Did Mr. Jenks really not tell you any details about the task ahead of me? Nothing at all?"

My trainer hesitated for a moment, then shook her head. "He didn't give me specifics, because he said they were not required… I will say one thing, however." Shifting on the log, she twisted to face me. Her expression was serious, her brown irises glimmering in the pale evening light. "Once you reach the other side of the river, trust no one, Violet. Do you understand me?"

Swallowing, I nodded.

A
fter Ms. Dale
returned me to my room, I was left to wait alone. I didn't know when Alastair would come for me. The papers were supposed to be ready, but it was possible they could be delayed.

There was nothing I could distract myself with; no books or newspapers. I ended up taking a long shower to wash my hair free of all the gunk that had accumulated in it from The Green. When I emerged in the bedroom in my bathrobe, I was surprised to find a chambermaid waiting for me. I hadn't heard her enter through the noise of the shower.

"Mr. Jenks wishes to know if you are ready for a reception," she said, her voice a tad monotone.

"Uh, yeah. I will be in a minute."

She nodded and exited the room.

Grabbing some fresh clothes that had been placed in the closet for me during the day, I quickly dressed and draped my hair in a towel.

I moved to sit down, but my nerves would not allow it. This was it. My last night in Matrus. Wringing my hands, I paced up and down the far end of the bedroom until footsteps sounded outside the door. There came a polite yet sharp knock.

"Come in," I called.

The door glided open. In stepped Alastair sporting a deep blue suit and carrying his crossbow again, followed by… I could not believe my eyes.

Queen Rina.

The queen of Matrus herself.

I hardly knew how to react. I stared, rooted to my spot and gaping at her as she glided into the room after Alastair, who closed the door behind them.

She wore a long, brown, padded-shoulder dress that clung to her tall, slender frame. Her appearance was striking, but not beautiful. Her features were too severe for that. Her face was long, the apples of her cheeks sharp. Framed by thin, slanted brows, her eyes were narrow, their color almost black—like her short bob of hair.

"Your Majesty," I murmured. I should've fallen to my knees before her immediately and kissed the back of her right hand. But I couldn't physically bring myself to do it. The same stinging resentment I'd felt toward Alastair surged up in me and I remained standing, holding her gaze.

I had all but forgotten about Alastair until he dropped a gray folder onto the bed in front of me.

"Everything is lined up," he said. "Your papers have been filed with the immigration department. After Her Majesty and I leave you, go through this folder carefully. You will need to memorize all details contained within it. Not only memorize; you must live them and breathe them. The photograph of our contact is also in the folder—keep it safe. You should be ready to step out of this door at midnight tonight. I will come to collect you and drive you to the port, where you will take a late ferry to Patrus."

"O-Okay," I said, my eyes returning to the queen. As if mirroring me, consciously or subconsciously, she, too, had remained standing, even though there was a seat only a couple of feet behind her. Her gaze was still on me, and I suspected that it had never left. It was hard to read her expression though—what she might be thinking. How she might be judging me. Her face was stoic, quite devoid of clues. If she disapproved of my reception of her—or rather, lack of it—she wasn't showing it. Neither was Alastair. He appeared too busy with the matter at hand to think of much else.

"I must also impress upon you one more thing, Ms. Bates," Alastair plowed on. "Something that, really, should be obvious to you by now, since you seem to be a sharp girl. But it's important for me to emphasize all the same." He stepped back from the bed and stood level with the queen. "Matrus cannot risk a war. Our nation is founded on peace. The type of mission you are about to undertake is, admittedly, not orthodox. But sometimes drastic actions are necessary, especially since we are simply reclaiming what is ours. Even despite this fact, if King Maxen got wind that you were sent on our bidding, if you somehow caused yourself or our contact there to be outed, the consequences could be crippling not just for you and him, but for your entire country. Patrus would see it as an affront—at a time when relations are already strained. Hence, you cannot be too careful. Pay close attention to everything our man tells you."

I stared at the scientist as he finished. Even if I was successful in retrieving this mysterious egg, how would Patrus not suspect that Matrus was behind it? I didn't understand what would be stopping them from finding out, and then probably tracing everything back to me—the newly arrived Matrus girl with magic papers.

The Court must have thought this through though. They weren't stupid. I supposed things would become clearer once I reached Patrus, but this truly did seem to be a tricky situation.

Both Alastair and the queen exuded an air of tension as they studied me. I found myself considering again how curious it was that they should select me for this task out of all their citizens. Couldn't they have waited for a more suitable—and experienced—person? I would have thought that a man would be better suited. He could in theory blend in better and move about freely.
They must be desperate to get the job done
. The thought came with a feeling of empowerment—something I hadn't experienced in a while.
If they're as desperate as me… then they need me, just as much as I need them.

The queen stepped forward, closer to me, and rested her hands against the bedpost. Then she spoke for the first time.

"Ms. Bates," she said, her tone deep and commanding. "You may not understand the full implications of this mission now. I do not expect you to. You are young. But if you keep your courage, if you pull through this with strength and determination, you will go down as a hero to your people. In spite of your past, you are still a child of Matrus. And now you must fight for her. You must bear this responsibility with tenacity. With enthusiasm and passion. You have a nation behind you, Ms. Bates. During whatever trials you may face, always remember that."

She let her words hang in the air before pursing her lips and giving me a firm nod. I supposed that she expected me to feel roused now. Raring to go. Honored at the opportunity to put my life on the line. It was my home that I was fighting for, after all.

But I didn't feel anything like this. Instead, my mind was ticking.

"Your Majesty," I said, bowing my head just a touch. "I understand the weight of this responsibility, and what is at stake should I fail. For this reason, I believe it would be wise on your part to give me an extra incentive… an extra personal incentive. This would ensure that, on both a conscious and subconscious level, I will be making my best effort at all times."

As her brows rose, I could practically hear the question pass through her mind:
What could be more personal than serving your homeland?
But she didn't shoot me down.

"My proposal is simple," I dared continue. "If I succeed, allow me to visit my brother, Timothy Bates, who was transported to the coal mines eight years ago."

Her nostrils flared slightly as she breathed in, her eyes moving fleetingly to Alastair's. She hadn't been expecting me to attempt to get something out of this deal above having my own life spared.

She gave it a minute of thought before a smile cracked her porcelain face. "All right," she said. "If you succeed, and return with the egg without creating trouble for Matrus, then you shall visit your brother the very next week."

It was as though a light switched on inside me. My heart swelled with joy and an anticipation I could hardly contain. When I'd taken a shot at setting my own terms, I hadn’t dared to hold much hope that the queen would bite. But my suspicion had been correct: both she and her Court were as desperate as me.

Tim
. He would be sixteen now. How would he have grown? How would he have changed? I felt jittery at the thought of seeing him again. It would be unreal. A dream. It still hadn't quite sunk in what I had just negotiated for myself.

I bowed before the queen this time, and in spite of all the obstacles I knew were up ahead of me, I smiled more fully than I had in years.

"I will succeed, Your Majesty."