After locking it, they strode away, leaving me to the deathly silence.
* * *
I wasn't sure what to feel. Somewhere within me still blazed my perpetual flame of anger, indignation, and resentment. But deeper than that, there was more. There was abandonment. There was betrayal. There was a hollow sense of grief. For years, I'd been grasping at straws in an attempt to find meaning to my life, purpose to my days. As much as my country had been the cause of my darkest depths of depression, it had also picked me up from them. It had forced me to keep going in some direction, even if it wasn't what I would have chosen for myself. In many ways, being imprisoned had been the best thing that could have happened to me. It had taught me to stop feeling and to simply concentrate on doing. We were worked hard and weren't given time for much else. Days were comfortably numb.
But now, as I sat here alone and taskless in the gloom, I didn't know how to still my mind. Almost decade-old feelings resurfaced, clawing at my chest and heart, threatening to overwhelm me.
Through it all, questions broke above the surface, surging like bellows in the wilderness.
What am I?
Why am I here?
Where did I go wrong?
When and how did I become a person unworthy of living?
Do I truly deserve to die?
So lost was I in my mind's tempest that I didn't notice when the prison doors finally opened and the wardens stopped right in front of my cell.
I gazed up at them, my vision focusing. These women were different wardens from the ones who had dropped me off here. They escorted me out of the holding cells, up the staircase, and back to the ground level. I gazed through the windows. It was still dark outside.
Where are they taking me?
The air had a certain feel to it—a crispness—and the crows had started cawing, indicating the imminent daybreak.
Perhaps they wanted me to be first in line.
We crossed the courtyard and approached a different truck than the one I'd arrived in. They locked me inside before piling into the front and starting the engine. We drove away from the compound, the quiet, neat streets lined with pastel-colored townhouses bleeding away on either side of me. I hadn't visited this part of the city for years and we passed places I hadn't seen since I was a child: the Racelle Art Gallery with its luminous mural-clad exterior, the multi-columned, whitestone Krisler Theater, the pebble-dashed City Library. I'd forgotten how pretty Matrus City was.
The sky was clear as I looked up. The stars glistened down on me, as if taunting me. It was a beautiful morning to be my last.
My heart palpitating, I tried to focus on the road. We met a crossroads, and I expected the driver to turn left down Wester Road, which was the most direct route to the labs. But she didn't. Instead, she carried on straight ahead, deeper into the center of the city.
"Where are you taking me?" I couldn't help but ask. My voice sounded scratchy. It'd been hours since I had last spoken.
Neither of the wardens bothered to answer.
The situation only became stranger when I realized we were nearing the royal quarters… The palace.
I wondered if there had been new labs set up recently that I wasn't aware of. But as we continued to make a beeline toward the royal quarters, it became clear that we were heading to none other than the palace compound itself.
What is happening?
We glided down the final road that led to the high wall surrounding the majestic tower which served as the queen’s and her courtiers' residence. Constructed from white stone and dotted with tall windows, it loomed over thirteen floors. The queen was reputed to live at the very top, occupying the highest two floors with her daughters.
Upon our arrival at the cast-iron gates, we were searched before they allowed us inside.
I had never been on this side of the gates before, I had only seen the occasional photograph in the papers, and my eyes struggled to take in the incredible sight. Surrounding the tower were geometrical gardens whose lawns were almost too green, flowers almost too large and vibrant. Ornamental fountains spiked with stone fish gushed out water. Quaint stone paths wound through the grass and flora, leading up to the main entrance of the tower: double shiny steel doors.
"Why am I here?" I asked again.
"Just follow," the warden holding my right arm replied.
Arriving at the steel doors, the wardens knocked. The doors whined open seconds later. A chambermaid wearing a starched white dress appeared on the other side as though she'd been expecting us. She led us across a luxurious lobby to a rug-clad sitting room before taking her leave. The wardens sat me down on a silky padded chair, then assumed positions on either side of the door.
As we waited—for what, I could still only muse—the only sound to distract me was the ticking of an old oak grandfather clock in one corner of the room.
Then I heard more footsteps. The doorknob twisted and clicked and a man stepped inside the room, a man I recognized. His hair was light—almost white—blond, and his face sported a thin goatee. His eyes were powder blue, his skin sallow. His features were altogether so fair and pale, he looked washed out. I had seen his face in the papers before; he was the only male consultant to Queen Rina's Court—a scientist whose name was Alastair Jenks, if I remembered right. Born and bred in Matrus, he was the son of a member of the Court, and a distant relative of scientist Ianto F. Jenks, who had pioneered the methods of screening boys—the same methods that were still used today in the matriarchy.
I felt a biting pang of resentment. If it weren’t for Alastair and his family, Tim might have never been taken and I might not be here now. We might still be living in the orphanage, or maybe I would have taken a job and started earning enough to become his official guardian, and for us to move into our own home. Tim might have begun an apprenticeship.
Why has this man come to see me?
He had entered armed with a crossbow and a shoulder bag. I eyed the bow's loaded tip. Perhaps I had been right about the wardens not wanting to wait until the main labs opened. Perhaps he was going to finish me off sooner: now. I had no idea why a man of such high status would do it personally though, and he didn't move any closer. He strode to a chair near the clock and sat down, his weapon resting casually on his knee. Then he let out a subdued cough, clearing his throat.
"I have some news for you, Ms. Bates," he said, his voice nasally and off-puttingly high-pitched. “Ms. Bradbury passed away in the hospital about an hour ago.”
My heart stilled.
“I also have a proposal for you,” he went on. “A proposal that I suspect you will not refuse." He paused for a moment, scrutinizing me. "A situation has led Her Majesty and the Court to find use for a person with… your type of background. We have been watching the detention facilities, waiting for the right young woman to whom we may offer this opportunity."
“Opportunity?" I managed.
"You took defense lessons with Ms. Dale up until the age of fourteen, did you not?" he asked, as though I hadn't spoken.
I nodded.
"The opportunity involves embarking on a mission which, if successfully completed, would suspend your sentence. It would allow you another chance to redeem yourself and reintegrate into society. Your previous crimes would be erased from your record. Forgotten about. You would essentially be starting from a blank slate…" He raised his almost nonexistent brows. "How does that sound?"
My anger had given way to bewilderment and I couldn't stop frowning at him. What mission could be so important to the Court that it would cause them to erase two counts of womanslaughter from my record? I felt shocked that they would even consider compromising their principles in such a gross manner.
"What mission?" I asked.
"Before I explain," Alastair replied, "I will warn you that after receiving this information, you will need to make an immediate decision. Take up the challenge, or not. And if for some reason you decide the latter, you will receive your due injection without delay… This
room will be the one that you die in." His voice lowered. "Think carefully, Ms. Bates.”
In spite of my bias against the scientist, I wasn’t sure that there was anything to think about. This mission would offer me the chance of a new life and freedom from detention facilities. Maybe the rules in Matrus would even change someday and allow the boys in the North to see their families. Maybe I would discover happiness.
Besides, however dangerous this mysterious mission could turn out to be, anything was better than death… Wasn't it?
5
"I understand the choices you have laid out," I told the scientist stiffly. My voice had dropped several tones deeper than normal. “I accept the offer. Tell me the details."
Alastair's mouth twitched. I guessed that was the closest he would get to a smile. "Very well," he said, putting down his crossbow for the first time. He began to pace the room slowly. "Recently we had a break-in at the Court's labs—my lab, specifically. Some valuable items were taken. Specimens. After a thorough investigation, we discovered who the thief was. Unfortunately, we had a snitch in our midst. A double agent, bribed by Patrus. She has been caught and reprimanded"—put to death, without a doubt—"but the damage has already been done. There is, however, one specimen that we believe is still salvageable. The most vital of all of them. It is the result of thousands of hours of experimentation and research." Alastair paused to drag a small table in front of me. Then he placed a hand into his bag and pulled out a tightly rolled-up piece of paper. He dropped it onto the table and unfurled it, revealing a map of Patrus.
He moved a forefinger over the paper, resting it atop the city to the far west, where the mountains were located.
"Fortunately, we, too, have somebody on the inside," Alastair went on. "An agent of our own who has infiltrated Patrus' high society. He resides several miles away from King Maxen's palace and their newly renovated laboratory, which he has discovered is where the specimen is being kept… Now, this is where you come in. He wants assistance to recover it."
My stomach clenching, I leaned over the map. "What is this 'specimen'?" And what makes you so desperate to get it back?
"What the specimen is," Alastair replied, "is of no consequence to you. The only thing you need to know is what it looks like." He moved again to his bag, drew out three photographs and planted them on the table next to the map. The pictures depicted a strange silver object in the shape of an egg. It was perched on a stark white table, supported by a transparent glass tripod.
"This silver egg," Alastair said, "is what you need to retrieve. It's hard to tell its size exactly from these pictures, but it's not too large to carry. Its length is about that of my briefcase, its width a bit narrower." He raised his bag up for me.
"What would I have to do, exactly, to recover it?"
"That will be made clear soon enough," he replied. "Once you reach the other side of the river."
My chest constricted. The other side of the river. They're going to cart me off to Patrus. Out of one prison and into another. For there was no way a self-respecting Matrian woman could describe Patrus as anything other than a prison.
Alastair still hadn't made it clear why they had been waiting for 'someone like me' to come along and assist with this task—a convict who had no experience in matters of robbery or espionage. I could only assume that this mission wasn't something a lot of people would volunteer for. People with lives, family, and choices.
"You said that other items were stolen," I said through a dry throat. "Other specimens that are pointless to reclaim. Why then is it not too late for this one?"
"The silver egg's shell is a protective casing," Alastair replied. "It's designed to self-destruct if forced entry is attempted. But, regrettably, that is a matter that's up for contention. Although I am in possession of its only key, the casing technology is still in the early stages of development. The inventor cannot guarantee that Patrus will not find a loophole if they work long and hard enough… hence, time is of the essence. We must retrieve the egg soon."
I glanced again at the map. "But how can I go to Patrus on such short notice? Wouldn't I need to go through immigration procedures? Or apply at their General Hall for residence? I would need to wait for—"
"Our contact can speed up the entire process to three days," Alastair replied, cutting me short. "He's able to pull a few strings… Getting there expediently will not be an issue. The issue for you will be staying there—and safely. Staying there in a way that you can execute the mission without hindrance. Which brings me to my next point: you must marry our contact."
"What?" I thought I had misheard Alastair.
"You must marry him, Violet," he repeated, with unmistakable enunciation.
"M-Marry?"
"Yes," he replied bluntly. "Marriage is the only way a Matrian woman—or any woman for that matter— can have an existence that's even semi-worth living in Patrus. Our insider will sort out your papers, and when you arrive, he will marry you and take you under his wing. Then he will provide you with the details you require to execute the mission."
My voice was still trapped in my throat, but my mind raced with questions.
Who is this man? What is his occupation? What does he look like? How old is he?
"Do you have a picture of him?" I asked.
"Yes," Alastair replied. "You'll need to recognize him once you arrive at the dock."
He retrieved a photograph from the side pocket of his bag and handed it to me.
I found myself staring down at a clean-shaven man with a smart, trimmed crop of black hair, thin lips and a narrow, triangular jaw. His exact eye color was hard to make out from the photo. Somewhere between gray and blue. He looked perhaps in his mid-twenties. I found him neither attractive nor repulsive, though I wasn’t used to judging men in either respect. Heck, I wasn’t used to judging men at all. Other than Tim, I hadn’t had significant close contact with males and didn't think I'd ever need to. I sure as hell never thought I’d end up coupled with one.
"His name?" I rasped.
"That isn't required yet," Alastair replied.
I swallowed, my eyes boring into the man in the photograph, as the word swirled around and around in my head like a nightmare:
Marry.
6
After showing me the photograph of my soon-to-be husband, Alastair was done answering questions. He took the photograph back from me, telling me that he would give it to me again when it came time for me to leave. Then, after replacing the map and photograph in his bag and gathering up the crossbow, he led me out of the room. Two wardens were still waiting outside the door.
He turned to one of them and said, "Take her to a guest room." Then he addressed me. "While preparations are underway, you should be using your time productively. I will solidify your schedule for the next three days and have you notified after eight a.m.”
I barely even had a chance to nod before Alastair strode away.
The wardens flanked my sides and escorted me down a winding hallway till we stopped outside a door that revealed a small suite containing a single bed, a bathroom and a kitchen area.
The wardens remained outside, closing the door behind me. I moved to the bed and slumped down on the mattress. My limbs were exhausted. I should try to sleep, but I couldn't conceive of attempting it. I was still struggling to wrap my head around my meeting with Alastair.
Less than an hour ago, I'd been preparing myself for certain death and now here I was, on the verge of entering a marriage.
Being thrust into the land of Patrus.
I recalled the fear in Josefine's eyes as she had spoken of the state of the patriarchy these days.
Will it really be worse than my current life? I couldn’t see how it wouldn’t be. Even though I was a Matrian prisoner, I was still respected as a person in my own right. As an independent entity. As a woman. In Patrus, I would be deemed incapable of being anything but some man's shadow. An accessory. A pet. No rights. No voice.
I couldn’t ima
gine anything more daunting.
Even though I wore sweaty, soiled clothing, I curled up beneath the blanket and nestled my head deep into the pillow. Doubt and fear still swirled in my mind as dawn arrived sooner than I was comfortable with. I remained in bed until someone rapped against my door at eight-thirty a.m.
I stumbled toward the door but it opened before I could reach it.
It was Ms. Dale.
Her appearance in the palace was both surprising and comforting. It felt like an age since I had last seen her, though it had only been five years. Her face displayed more creases than I remembered it having, and her hair was visibly graying. Her physique, however, looked as tight as ever. She was shouldering a large backpack.
She cracked a small smile at me, which I couldn't help but return.
"Violet," she said, moving inside. "How are you?"
I shrugged. What did she expect?
"Mr. Jenks sent me. He informed me that you are to embark on a confidential mission to Patrus and over the next few days, he wants me to help you brush up on some skills."
"Oh."
Defense skills.
What exactly does he have planned for me in Patrus?
"We're to start now, so I guess you should get ready."
"Okay." I turned away from her and moved to the bathroom.
"Also," Ms. Dale added, "I brought these for you." She slid the backpack off her shoulders and withdrew an outfit that filled me with a sense of nostalgia. Sturdy shoes, long pants and a top made of durable, stretchy black fabric that was almost impossible to tear. I remembered her lending me a couple of uniforms just like this during my early teenage years.
I flung the clothes over my shoulder. "Thanks."
The Gender Game Page 4