Glass Princess

by M. Lynn

  Helena sighed, eager to get off the ship and into the city. Ezio was right, though. If the docks were being watched, they needed to wait until darkness hid their homecoming.

  Without a word to Ezio, Helena walked past him and yanked open the door before descending the narrow staircase into the dimly lit galley.

  Edmund followed her down, and the door shut behind him. All the sailors were on deck preparing to dock, so Helena and Edmund were the only ones in the small space.

  Helena picked up a roll from a platter on the table in the center of the room and slid onto the wooden bench, propping one leg up underneath her.

  Edmund dropped into a chair with a heavy breath and scrubbed a hand across his face.

  Waiting was the worst part. Neither of them knew what the night would bring. Helena took a bite of the bread before setting it aside as her stomach protested.

  She drummed her fingers on the table, her mind escaping back to Bela as she closed her eyes. Rolling hills. Flowering gardens. It was no wonder Etta ignored the rest of the world’s problems. She had everything. It was her people’s reward for generations of struggle.

  She fixed a stare on Edmund. What was his reward? He should have lived his life in Bela, never having to face another hardship.

  Instead, here he was, hurting. The man he loved was dead. And now what did he have? Revenge?

  Some days, it felt as if that was all she had left as well. If she didn’t take it, hold on to it, she’d truly lose.

  But she’d already lost. This mission would have no winner.

  She didn’t know how long they’d been sitting in that room. Hours? Finally, Edmund hunched forward, his elbows on his knees. “Lenny?”

  She retreated from the chaos of her thoughts. “Yeah?”

  “Did Ezio seem nervous to you?”

  Helena shrugged. “He’s always a bit hyper.”

  Edmund thought for a moment. “I’ve known that kid a while now. And his mother. Something’s wrong.” He stood, glancing over his shoulder at the stairs. Straightening his spine, he crossed the room and bounded up the steps. As soon as he reached the top, a litany of curses rained down.

  Helena shot to her feet as he reappeared.

  Edmund’s jaw clenched as he tried to contain the fury beneath his skin. “Locked.”

  “Locked?” She didn’t understand. Taking the steps two at a time, she ran up and gripped the handle, giving the door a shove. Nothing. She did it again, this time, slamming her shoulder against the wood.

  “You won’t get it open that way.” His eyes drew down, defeated.

  Helena wouldn’t stop. She crashed into the door again, ignoring the pain slicing through her shoulder. She prepared to strike again when Edmund gripped her shoulder, holding her in place.

  “Edmund. Let me go.”

  His grip tightened. “You’re only going to hurt yourself.”

  She turned on her heel and shot a hand out to grab the railing. The step wasn’t big enough for both of them. But Edmund wasn’t going anywhere. Pushing past him, she stormed down the stairs.

  “Why would they lock it?” She twisted her dark hair over one shoulder and sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  Edmund didn’t respond. As Helena took in his resigned expression, she finally understood. Mercenaries were loyal to whomever paid them. Damara had no great love for Etta or Edmund. Ezio’s nervousness…

  “They didn’t bring us here so I could face my brother.” The thought sent a wave of fury rushing through her. “We’ve been prisoners since leaving Bela.”

  Edmund cursed. “I should have known. They might not know who you are, but I’m still a wanted man in Madra.”

  Heavy footsteps sounded above them. A lot of heavy footsteps.

  Edmund pulled Helena away from the stairs, and the door flew open, letting in the little remaining light from the day.

  A shadow appeared at the top, tall and lean. As he descended into the room, Helena took in the crisp Madran uniform, glowing red in the candlelight. Her eyes skimmed up over the straight lines and pressed folds to the angular jaw and sparkling eyes she knew so well.

  “Quinn.” His name was only a breath on her lips. Her heart leapt, and she wanted to go to him, to have him tell her everything would be okay, to comfort her as he’d done most of her life.

  But he wasn’t alone.

  Three more Madran soldiers followed him.

  Quinn’s eyes held no recognition for his sister. They were darker somehow. And that was when she knew. The uniform. The stiff reception.

  Quinn hadn’t returned to Madra as a prisoner. He’d joined Cole’s side as an ally.

  Edmund stepped in front of Helena as if he could protect her from the crushing realization the brother she’d come to save may not want to be saved.

  “Stay back,” Edmund ordered.

  Quinn showed no emotion as he gestured to the men behind him. “They come with us. Pay the mercenary and tell them to get out of our city.” He turned without another glance and marched up the stairs.

  Helena collapsed in on herself. Tears clogged in her throat, making it hard for her to breathe. As she gasped for air, a strong grip yanked her arm forward.

  She cried out as Edmund fought back and received a heavy punch to the gut. He would have fallen if not for the men holding him up. With one final hit to the head, Edmund’s chin fell against his chest and his body sagged.

  Helena didn’t fight after that. Up on deck, her eyes burned into Quinn’s back, but he didn’t turn.

  She’d thought Cole couldn’t hurt her any worse than he already had.

  She was wrong.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The cart rumbled beneath her, and Helena focused on each bump of the road. They had bound both her and Edmund with ropes tethered to the side of the wooden wagon. Two speckled mares pulled them through the city streets.

  Beside the cart, Quinn and his soldiers rode large steeds.

  In the waning light, Madra looked unchanged. In Helena’s heart, everything had changed.

  As they approached the city center, Helena saw shops boarded up and the streets of the once busy marketplace were now empty. At this time of night, the shopkeepers should be closing up their stalls for the day and going home to their families. They were the backbone of the kingdom. The citizens who were neither merchant nor pauper.

  And yet, where were they?

  Quinn’s low voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere as he spoke to his guards. “We will ride through the front gates. My brother will want to see the prisoners immediately, but he will also want the rest of the palace to see them.”

  One of the guards nodded. “Sir, can I ask who the girl is? I recognize Edmund of Bela. When the mercenary’s messenger said she brought him to us, we expected him to be alone. Why did we take her?”

  Another guard spoke up. “We aren’t in the habit of kidnapping young ladies.”

  “No,” Helena growled under her breath. “Only killing their families and following a man who didn’t deserve to be king.”

  The guards didn’t seem to have heard her, but Quinn snapped his gaze to hers. He was still watching her as he answered the guards. “It is not up to us to question the king. But you can trust him not to harm her. Not while I’m there.”

  She got the distinct impression his words were meant for her instead of her guards. Was Quinn saying he wouldn’t let anything happen to her?

  It should have made her feel better, but instead, it only reminded her that the last brother she thought would protect her had chosen Cole instead.

  The guards continued to chatter, but Helena tuned them out, focusing on Edmund’s unconscious form beside her.

  Their party turned onto a side street that would take them to the palace road. Someone shouted from the road ahead of them, and the lead guard’s horse reared up as an arrow soared past, striking the ground at the beast’s feet.

  Quinn yelled orders as a volley of arrows sailed int
o the alley amid shouts. Helena ducked low in the wagon, shielding Edmund’s prone form, and scanned the rooftops, finally making out shadowed figures.

  “Fire,” the shout came from up high. More arrows rained down, striking two of the guards next to the wagon. “Don’t hit the prisoners!”

  “Edmund.” Helena shook him. “Wake up. Please.” She tried to free her wrists, but the rope only tightened. They were under attack, and all she could do was watch.

  Quinn.

  She searched frantically for her brother. An arrow struck his horse, and he jumped to the ground, aiming his own bow toward the rooftops. Firing rapidly, he didn’t even pause when a few people fell from the roofs, his arrows embedded deep.

  People swarmed the street, crude weapons in hand, surrounding Quinn. His guards lay dead in the road. Quinn paused, taking in the tightening circle of fighters. He lowered his bow and straightened.

  A man popped up at the back of the wagon, a grin stretching his brutish face. It dropped when he took in the sight of Edmund.

  “He…”

  “Alive,” Helena said quickly. She didn’t know the man, but by the worry in his gaze, he must have known Edmund.

  She relaxed. Edmund hadn’t needed to find his people. They’d found him.

  Panic struck her, and she whipped her head around to find Quinn once more. Two men pushed him to his knees. A woman stood above him, her sword drawn.

  Before she knew what she was doing, Helena screamed. “No!” She turned back to the man nearby and held out her wrists. “Get me out of here!”

  He pulled a knife and made quick work of the ropes. Helena scrambled from the wagon and pushed through the people in her way until she reached Quinn. Looking into his eyes was like looking into Cole’s. And that… she couldn’t take. She hardened her gaze. He didn’t look to her in apology, only resignation, and that angered her more.

  But this wasn’t Cole. It was Quinn. She couldn’t kill him. She lifted her eyes to the tall woman. “Knock him out. He comes with us.”

  Amusement lit in the woman’s eyes. “Darlin’, you don’t issue orders. We came for Edmund. Who are you?”

  She met Quinn’s warning gaze. He shook his head, but she was past the point of listening to those who betrayed her.

  Not releasing her brother from the intense stare, she sucked in a breath. “My name is Helena Rhodipus. I am the rightful heir to the Madran throne.”

  Quinn seemed to sag at the words.

  Helena turned away from him. “Can I give orders now?” She walked back toward the wagon without another glance. “We can’t be in the street. I assume you all have somewhere safe to take me. Let’s go.”

  The wagon’s driver lay dead in his seat, so Helena climbed onto the bench and pushed him off. He hit the ground with a thud as she took the reins.

  A man strode forward, jamming the hilt of his sword into Quinn’s head before lifting his now unconscious body into the back of the wagon beside Edmund.

  Helena sighed. News that she was alive and back on Madran soil would travel fast. Tonight, she’d follow Edmund’s people. Tomorrow, she’d return to her home.

  Helena’s eyes widened in shock when she realized Edmund’s people were taking her to his home on ambassador row. But with Madra forcing all foreigners out, it was an unused part of town.

  She hopped down from the wagon and waited as someone removed Edmund and then Quinn, carrying them through the back gate.

  The man who’d appeared at the wagon stepped up beside her. “Someone will take care of the horses. We need to get inside.”

  “Bemus,” someone snapped. “Bring the princess.”

  A wide hand landed on Helena’s back, urging her past the swinging gate and up the steps into the house she’d only been to once before. She remembered thinking there was nothing distinctly Edmund about his house. He left no trace of himself, but that was before she’d truly known him.

  Now, as she walked down a long sparse hall, she could see him there. He was a simple man. She stopped, her feet freezing as she saw a row of floorboards they’d pried up to reveal a hidden compartment. Empty.

  What had Edmund kept there?

  Had she known him at all? Here she was, surrounded by people who were loyal to Edmund instead of the Rhodipus name. They followed him, spied for him, fought for him. He’d been creating a network of people to protect her family while she’d been sneaking out of the palace in search of freedom.

  Suddenly, she felt like nothing more than a silly girl playing at rebellion.

  Bemus led her into a sitting room where stiff furniture surrounded a crackling fireplace. As she stepped closer, the warmth licked her skin and she unclenched her frozen fists.

  Rebels dropped into chairs without ceremony. Others scrambled to make space near the fire for Edmund. Two men set him on the ground, his face awash in an orange glow.

  They didn’t give Quinn the same consideration. Bemus tied the prince’s wrists the same way Quinn had tied Helena’s that very night.

  Helena could only go to one of them. Only one of them hadn’t betrayed her. Tearing her eyes from Quinn’s olive-toned face, she knelt at Edmund’s side.

  He mumbled something and his eyelids shifted but didn’t open. She bent down. “I need you to wake up, Edmund. Please. I don’t know these people.”

  The rebels watched her with wary fascination. They hadn’t exactly said they didn’t believe she was the princess, but she felt their skepticism in every glance. Judging by the raggedy state of their clothing, these weren’t the type to attend balls at the palace so they hadn’t gotten the brief glimpse of her face on her name day—before Cole had spirited her away.

  She rubbed her eyes to hold back the tears as she thought of that night. But she wasn’t the only person to have suffered. Many people died in the fight, and the group surrounding her had fought. They may have lost ones they loved as well. For her. For her family.

  Because Edmund asked them to.

  What was it about him that brought out such loyalty?

  She brushed a hand over his forehead, pushing hair out of his face. He’d have made a good partner on the throne for Stev.

  Edmund’s eyes fluttered open, and a groan rumbled through his chest. “My head.”

  Helena released a relieved laugh. “You’ll survive.”

  “What happened?” His eyes cleared, and he finally took in their surroundings. “What… Helena… we’re not in the palace?”

  Bemus crossed the room and leaned over with a grin on his face. “Welcome home, Edmund.”

  Edmund closed his eyes and inhaled deeply before opening them once again. “Help me up and then tell me what the hell happened.”

  Bemus reached a hand down and hauled Edmund to his feet. The blonde Belaen put a hand to his head with a wince as he took in the room.

  His eyes landed on the woman sitting on the arm of the couch, her arms crossed over her chest and one eyebrow raised. “Catsja?” His eyes scanned the group, settling on the man who’d carried him in from the wagon. “And Orlo. You two…”

  “A lot has changed in Madra, Edmund.” Bemus clapped him on the back. “But we’ve been waiting for our chance, watching the docks for all ships entering and leaving. We even have our people within the new palace guard. We lost the battle, but we’re still waging this war.”

  Edmund rubbed the back of his neck.

  Catsja set her feet on the ground and stood, matching Edmund’s height. “They took our tavern, Edmund. Our livelihood. It’s now a business run by the crown for the crown’s soldiers. Most shopkeepers can’t keep their doors open with no foreign trade coming in. The king has turned both merchants and the poor against him. Do you know how rare it is they agree on anything?”

  Orlo broke his silence with a grunt.

  Helena didn’t know what her brother was thinking. Many Madrans had long since blamed foreigners for the kingdom’s problems. But it hadn’t been their fault at all. The constant wars in foreign kingdoms caused famine and poverty
. But Cole wasn’t bred to be king. He wasn’t taught the intricacies of keeping one’s crown… or one’s head. Their father had spared no time to teach his bastard sons.

  Only Stev and Helena received formal educations. Only they attended meetings of the crown. Estevan was meant to be king, but Helena would be his right hand as head of the merchant council.

  But what happens when the merchants no longer bring trade into the kingdom? She jerked her head up, eyes snapping to Catsja.

  “Has the king disbanded the merchant council?”

  Catsja peered at her as if she didn’t want to answer, but she did anyway. “Yes. Ian Tenyson is the sole head merchant now.”

  “The spiral,” she whispered. Everything Madran society was built on. Merchants worked their entire lives to near the tip of the spiral, the peak of status and power. “What are the priests saying about this?”

  The rebels exchanged glances, none of them wanting to speak. Edmund gripped Helena’s elbow. “Len… Dell and Bemus went to the monastery as the rebellion began. The priesthood had been…” He closed his eyes. “Massacred.”

  “Gone?” The breath rushed out of her.

  Edmund nodded. “Gone.”

  She stumbled back, pushing away from him. Everything she’d known, everything they had taught her… The spiral… the priesthood…

  Cole hadn’t just taken the crown, he’d changed Madra forever.

  In the corner, Quinn stirred. Catsja wasted no time in going to him. Before he even opened his eyes, her fist flashed and crashed into his head. He sagged against the wall once again.

  Helena winced and forced herself to turn away. Quinn was not her main concern.

  “Edmund,” Orlo demanded. “This girl says she is the princess. Tell us she lies.”

  Edmund fixed Helena with a stare, and she didn’t know what it meant. These were his people. Surely it was time for them to know. She met his gaze, refusing to back down.

  Finally, he scrubbed a hand across his face. “It’s her.”