The Gender End

by Bella Forrest

  “Yeah, whatever, Violet,” Quinn quipped, his hands moving to his hair and mussing it slightly. “I just spotted the next target of my affections. Wish me lu—hey!”

  “All’s fair in love and war,” Jay replied as he wheeled past Quinn, heading toward a pretty young woman wearing a soft coral dress—and not-so-accidentally running over Quinn’s foot in the process. I rolled my eyes. This was their latest pastime, competing for feminine attention, and I wanted nothing to do with it.

  “I don’t know about you, but I think they need some alone time together,” I said to Josefine. “Maybe it’ll remind them women like more than confidence or arrogance—they like to be treated like people and not prizes.”

  Quinn flushed bright red, stalling. “God, are we really doing that, Violet? Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

  “Because I love you and I know you didn’t mean any harm by it. But I really have to go—Morgan is waiting for me. Think you can tone it down some before we get back?”

  “I’ll make sure they do,” Tim said, crossing his arms across his chest. “You and Josefine go. We’ll see you soon.”

  I looked at my watch and cursed. I was now fifteen minutes late. Grabbing Josefine’s hand again, I began to push through the crowd. I spotted the small side tunnel that ran left of the fountain—the same one Elena had been in when we had supposedly thwarted the bomb meant to kill her—and moved into it, Josefine keeping up behind me.

  It curved right and then left, ending in an archway that led into a smaller rounded cavern. I could hear Amber speaking softly as I approached, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying, just the tones she spoke in—calming and supportive.

  “Is she freaking out yet?” I asked as I stepped in, Josefine in tow, and Morgan scowled at me through the mirror she was standing before.

  “You’re… late…” she panted, and I realized the young queen was in the middle of an anxiety attack. Her hands gripped the wooden vanity she was hunched over—the mirror attached to the front—while Amber fanned her with a stiff piece of paper. Still, she looked beautiful. Her white dress was perfectly cut, cinching her waist and exposing her shoulder and collarbones. A simple black ribbon wrapped around her waist, forming a small bow on the front, while her skirt was full and voluminous.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, letting go of Josefine’s hand and heading right over to her side. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Something. Oh, mother… Am I really doing this?”

  I smiled and placed a hand on her back, rubbing small, gentle circles.

  “I understand. I felt the same way when Viggo and I were getting married.”

  “Oh?” She looked up at me, her eyes glittering with curiosity as she fought to catch her breath. “Really? I thought… you were… pretty composed.”

  I laughed and shook my head.

  “Is that really how I looked? I could’ve sworn everyone could see the whites of my eyes with how I was feeling inside.”

  “Why were you scared?” asked Josefine.

  “It was just nerves,” I replied, turning to her. “I was second-guessing everything, and frightening myself in the process.”

  “How did you fix it?” Amber asked, looking pointedly at Morgan.

  “I didn’t. Viggo did. The instant I saw him walking into the room… everything just settled. My heart went still. Everything fell out of focus. Everything except him. And in that moment, I just knew what we were doing was the right thing.”

  “Problem solved, then,” Morgan said under her breath as she turned toward the door. “SOMEONE GET MY FIANCE IN HERE!”

  There was a rustle behind one of the curtains, and a sky-blue warden stepped out from the alcove behind it. “Yes, my qu—”

  “Ignore that order,” I said with a laugh. I knew I couldn’t actually order her, but there was a quick flicker of relief on the warden’s face, and she hesitated, looking at Morgan. “You’re not supposed to see him before the wedding—you’ll piss off the chamberlain lady.”

  “Oh God,” Morgan said with a shudder. “She’s right, cancel that order. I’ll just go to him!”

  “You can’t,” Amber said in exasperation. “They’ve only just started letting the public in. The wedding’s not for another hour!”

  Morgan narrowed her eyes at us, her jaw set at a mutinous angle. “I’m the damn queen,” she snarled. “And it’s my damn wedding. They’ll get over it.”

  Her spine straightened as she spoke, uncurling and becoming rigid. Unyielding. Commanding.

  I looked at Amber and shook my head. “Can you let the chamberlain know the wedding has been moved up by fifty-five minutes? Tell the guards up top to use the Patrian wardens with us to help search bags for weapons, but get the public down here in a hurry.”

  Amber gave me a dry smile. “Think you can keep her here for five minutes?”

  “We need to double check her makeup is perfect. That’ll be at least a few minutes.”

  “Why?” gasped Morgan, turning around toward the mirror. “Did you see something wrong with it?”

  I gave Amber a pointed look, and nodded.

  “I’ll relay the orders,” she said as she moved down the corridor. Turning to Morgan, I coaxed her into a sitting position.

  “Calm down,” I urged her. “And focus on something else.”

  “Like your new friend there?” she asked, her eyes flicking to Josefine.

  “Old friend,” I said, carefully reapplying some of her makeup. “We were at Merrymount together.”

  “The work facility?” she asked, blinking in surprise. “You met her there?”

  “She did, but she wasn’t there long. I’m surprised she remembers me, to be honest.” Josefine’s voice ended on a diminished note, and I turned toward her.

  “I could never forget you, Josefine. You were kind to me in a place where kindness didn’t exist. It meant more than you could possibly know.”

  “But it’s my fault,” she blurted suddenly. “It’s my fault you went after Dina! That you… That you… killed her.”

  “What?” I asked, my eyes widening in surprise. “No it’s not.”

  “It is! I should’ve been braver! I should’ve fought Dina harder when she came in. If I had, maybe she would’ve run away, or—”

  “Or she would’ve killed you,” I exclaimed loudly, cutting her off. “Her braces were removable, Josefine. She turned them into a weapon and tried to use them against me. That’s why I—Why she died. She tried to kill me. I killed her first.”

  “It was self-defense,” Morgan said softly, and I shook my head.

  “No, it wasn’t,” I breathed sadly. “I went into her room looking for a fight. I wanted to hurt her—and all she’d done was tear up Tim’s photo. In retrospect… that seems a very petty reason for someone to die.”

  “Violet…” Morgan trailed off, her hand reaching out and taking mine. “It’s over now. There’s nothing you can do but find some way to move on. You saved our worlds—we are fundamentally changed in extraordinary and unprecedented ways. You’ve done great and amazing things for the people here.”

  I smiled. Morgan had misunderstood my melancholy over Dina’s death. I just didn’t dismiss it easily. I carried the guilt of that memory within me so it could temper my anger, hone it and contain it, until I was certain it was pointed in the right direction.

  “I’m fine,” I told her. “And it’s your wedding. Josefine, you didn’t do anything wrong, and you aren’t responsible for any of this. Morgan, your soon-to-be-husband has probably been rushed to get ready and is feeling pretty uncertain. Shall we?”

  Morgan smiled and nodded. I helped her stand up and held her train as we moved over to the door.

  “You should go find your parents now,” I whispered to Josefine. “I’ll make sure you have an invitation to the reception. I want to see more of you, especially if your family is moving to Patrus.”

  “Of course,” she breathed. “I’ll let them know!” She turned to run off, and th
en paused, turning back. “You also did great and amazing things for the boys,” she added, and it took me a minute to put the comment into context. By the time I had, she had already disappeared, and I smiled at the sound of her feet carrying down the tunnel.

  “You have a fan,” Morgan said as she ducked under the archway. “And she’s right, you know. The boys are all thriving now.”

  She wasn’t wrong, but she didn’t give herself or Viggo enough credit. If anything, the project was their brain child; I was just one of the only people who had enough free time to oversee it and make Viggo’s ideas reality. It made me happy to shoulder the load, not only for him, but so that I could spend time helping them. The program at the school we’d established in a secluded area in the Patrian farmlands included therapy, education, medication, gene therapy for the more extreme cases… even outpatient counseling and a housing and foster family program—anything the boys might need to start building lives from the wreckage Desmond and Elena’s plans had left for them.

  Morgan’s scientists had discovered a number of things from combing through Mr. Jenks’ research—one of the biggest ones directly affected Morgan and Tim both, a welcome relief that had come as a complete shock to the two of them. They’d been able to uncover the reasons that they, and some of the other boys as well, were so sensitive to touch, and a drug to deal with the problem had been developed shortly afterward. Now both of them could experience human contact in a way that had been denied them their entire lives. I was thrilled beyond words for them—it was hard to imagine Morgan going through with a wedding without the new drugs.

  Beyond that, Cody was more stable too. He’d chosen to live with Morgan in the palace, and she referred to him fondly as her little brother—and she had just finished establishing a sister school in Matrus, so the boys could decide where and how they were going to live, and hopefully be reunited with their families.

  “I’m just glad I could do something to help them,” I replied. “And Josefine isn’t a fan, she’s a friend. One I’m happy to see alive and well. She suffered greatly under the past regimes. Her father was Patrian, her mother Matrian, and the law broke them apart.”

  “Really? Then it’s a good thing she got to meet the woman who was directly responsible for making a lot of those changes. Y’know, before she got so famous.”

  “Ugh, that really is Owen’s fault,” I said with a chuckle.

  “He took to art. It… It helped him to draw it.”

  “But those books are so topical,” I insisted as we walked down the long tunnel. “They skip over the horrific stuff.”

  “He painted the horrific stuff too,” Morgan said quietly, her gaze directed far away for a moment. “All of it. The pieces are in a studio if you want to see them—he won’t go in there though. Once he paints them, he never wants to see them again.”

  I felt my heart clench in my chest. “Oh.”

  “He doesn’t like to talk about it. I can imagine you don’t like to talk about it either. But please tell me you at least talk to someone about it.”

  “I talk to Viggo. We share everything, including each other’s nightmares.” I thought about it for a long moment, and added, “And there was the oral history thing. I included an audio file. It was… cathartic, actually. It hurt, of course, like tearing duct tape off of my heart, but afterward, everything felt a little better.”

  “Good. I worry about you sometimes.”

  “You could pick up a handheld and call,” I replied tartly, and she chuckled.

  “You know the council hates that,” she replied. “They don’t like the idea of me having so many direct conversations with various people in Patrus, actually. They prefer to work as intermediaries. Maybe it makes them feel important?”

  I chuckled, but a pang of sadness washed over me. She was right, of course. We were friends, but we were citizens—no, not just citizens, leaders—of two different countries, and unfortunately, there was always going to be someone upset with the status quo. Someone who wanted to change things or interfere with what we had built.

  And who knew—maybe that change could be good. All I could do was hope and pray that for now, our way was working, and would continue to work for as long as possible.

  “How do I look?” she asked, and a peek over her shoulder told me we were near the main chamber. There was a murmur of voices coming from it—a soft din of hushed conversation that was happening everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

  “Perfect,” I replied as Amber pressed by, followed by Meera and Dr. Tierney. I smiled as I saw the two other women, and moved back a few steps to let Meera go first—she was the matron of honor, after all. Sierra took up the front as Morgan’s family member, consenting to the union, just as Cody did for Owen on the groom’s side.

  “I’m really sorry I couldn’t ask Margot,” Morgan whispered from ahead.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Henry has the flu anyway. They weren’t going to be able to make it.” Especially since Margot was pregnant with baby number three, but it wasn’t my news to announce, especially not right now.

  Not to mention, my Aunt Sarah and Uncle Kurtis were spending time with their grandchildren. We still hadn’t really formed a relationship, although to be honest, they didn’t seem particularly interested. Neither was I, for that matter—their behavior after I rescued them from Tabitha hadn’t really bred the happy warm feelings of family between us. Then again… I had all the family I could possibly hope for, so it was a moot point. If they didn’t want a relationship with me, I could accept that. Even if it drove Cad crazy.

  A hush filled the hall, and I heard the strong voice of the chamberlain filling the room.

  “We are gathered here, in the eyes of the Mother, in the home she provided us, to unite our queen and her chosen in a bond of love, honor, and respect. A united front to stand as both shield and sword against all foes and evils that would do their people harm. As per the queen’s wishes, they will co-rule Matrus with a strong and united rule, further cementing the queen’s belief in a better and brighter future. Will the petitioners of this union present themselves?”

  “That’s me,” Morgan said excitedly, stepping forward. I waited for Meera to move, then a heartbeat longer, and followed. The room was quiet, reverent, as Morgan stepped through the archway, shimmering in her white, gauzy gown.

  From the other side of the room, I saw Owen stepping out from his own archway, Cody leading the way with a familiar wooden box in his hands, his face a bright smile. The box was the same one Henrik had given Viggo and me, but the rings were different—Morgan had wanted something special to carry them in, and I had thought this would be perfect.

  Viggo stood directly behind Owen, and I smiled at how amazing he looked in his formal attire. Then I heard, rather than saw, Cruz—also in the chosen’s wedding train—speaking in a loud whisper that echoed throughout the cavern.

  “But Viggo, I’m telling you, reinstating the Power Fight League could really be—”

  “Anello!” Dr. Tierney whispered indignantly from behind me in the procession, and Cruz blinked and then immediately looked contrite.

  “Lo siento, mi amor,” he whispered. Dr. Tierney gave him a pointed look, then looked at Morgan and Owen. “Right—so sorry, Owen. Queen Morgan.” He fell back in line, trying to look inconspicuous, and I caught Viggo shaking his head.

  As the wedding procession moved along, I saw Henrik stepping up after Cruz—in fact, I was pretty sure Cruz was supposed to go at the end of the line, judging by the way Henrik grabbed his shoulder and stepped past him to move behind Viggo. Following Henrik were Cody, Solomon, Jay, Quinn, Tim, and Logan—and Logan waited for Cruz to regain his spot just in front of him before continuing the procession. It was all I could do to keep from laughing, but I was pretty sure Owen and Morgan didn’t care.

  “My man should’ve cut,” Amber whispered up the line, and I grinned as I saw Logan rolling his eyes at her from behind Cruz’s back.

  Owen and Morgan
noticed none of this, or maybe just ignored it, their eyes solely on one another. Their eye contact never broke as they drew together, coming to a slow halt.

  Owen reached out with his hand, and Morgan settled hers on top of his in an almost ritualized way. Then again, the chamberlain had made them practice more than a few times. I waited as they moved forward together, up to the lip of the pool, where the chamberlain waited.

  The chamberlain’s hair was free, her dress a simple white frock, her arms and legs bare.

  “They stand here as equals—partners—their duties to each other as well as their people. Does anyone object to the union of the two before us?”

  Silence met the question, and she smiled serenely.

  “Recite your vows,” she commanded.

  I looked at Viggo as Owen began to speak, staring at him across the small space that separated us. He grinned at me while Owen recited his vows—the very same vows Morgan had made us recite—and I returned the smile, pressing my hand to my stomach, right up against where I hoped Melissa (or Thomas, if our child was a boy) was settling in for the night. I recalled the moment of our wedding, the vows sounding comfortingly familiar, and I knew they were still as true for me and Viggo as the day we’d said them. I knew as long as Viggo and I had each other and our family, we could face whatever tomorrow brought, for good or for bad.

  And the bad was disappearing, slowly, one day at a time.

  What’s next?

  Dear Reader,

  I hope you enjoyed the conclusion to The Gender Game series. It’s been an incredible journey and I want to thank you for accompanying Violet and Viggo til the end.

  Saying goodbye to them and their group is both sad and bittersweet—their story will always hold a deep place in my heart—but I’m also looking forward to a new adventure.

  This book marks the end of Matrus and Patrus’s story, but not the end of the world that surrounds them.

  If you’re curious to know more about the mysterious Tower civilization Violet came across in this book, keep turning the pages to read 3 early sneak-peek bonus chapters from The Girl Who Dared to Think — a book that continues the story of Violet’s greater world.