by M. Lynn
“It’ll take us too long on foot.” Etta scanned their surroundings, always watchful.
Dell shook his head. “It won’t matter how far we have to walk if we never make it there. This is not Bela. The average Madran doesn’t have a horse because they can’t afford one. We’re marking ourselves with wealth and I’m getting the distinct impression that’s an even worse thing now than it was before.”
A man walked by, scowling as he caught sight of them, but he didn’t pause.
No one else argued as they dismounted and led their horses down the narrow alley.
“We’re close to the ambassador’s sector. Edmund’s house is there.” Dell peered around the side of a shop, scanning the road. A troop of palace guards rode through town. People scrambled out of their way, and Dell grabbed a young boy by the front of the shirt.
“Why is the guard in the city?” Before, the king had been careful not to impose his warriors on the people. Force didn’t work in Madra. Only money did. They claimed the mercenaries had evil inside them with their only loyalty being to the gold in their pockets, but it wasn’t only their way of life. Madra had been built on the concept.
The boy’s lip shook. “The prince be missing, sir.”
“The prince?”
The boy nodded. “They be saying them rebels got Prince Quinn.”
Dell released the boy. “You want to earn a bit of gold, kid?” He gestured to the purse on Etta’s belt.
The boy’s eyes lit up. “How, sir?”
“You’re going to help my friend here.” He put a hand on a confused Landon’s shoulder before turning to the others. “Change of plans. We can’t go to Edmund’s when the city is crawling with guards. Landon will take the horses to the public stables since he knows the city as well as I do.”
The last time Dell had been at the public stables was when he spirited Helena away from her own tournament. He refused to let the memories cloud his mind this time.
Etta leaned into Vérité, whispering words none of the rest of them could hear. When she backed away, she looked to Landon. “Worry about the others. Vérité will follow you or he won’t. That’s his choice.”
Landon scrunched his brow, issuing a short nod. “Stay safe.”
“You too.” Dell thought for a moment. “If you make it before dark, there’s a bakery in the market square. It’s run by a woman named Agathe. Search for us there.”
Dell wasted no time strolling out onto the street as if he had every right to be there. This kingdom and this city had once held such familiarity for him… and also a lot of pain. It’d shaped him into the man he was. Allowed him to form his own convictions.
When he’d first helped Edmund, he hadn’t known which side of the fight he wanted to be on. He hadn’t thought the Rhodipus line deserved to keep their rule.
Now, he knew. He fought to take back what had been stolen. This wasn’t just out of loyalty to Edmund any longer. He’d have joined the fight, eventually. Madra was his home.
He led them past Catsja’s tavern and images from another life assaulted him. He’d chased the woman only after her husband called Dell’s mother a whore.
The boy he’d been thrived on rage, fighting illegal street matches and enjoying every hit. He’d been foolish and desperate for anything to give his life meaning.
The sign no longer read The Cooked Goose. Instead, it had been changed to The King’s Tavern.
With a sigh, he turned away. Etta, Alex, and Tyson asked no questions about Madra as they took in the crowded city. In Bela, everything smelled fresh and new. Madra’s air hung stale between the buildings; a combination of fish and urine.
A troop of palace guards in gleaming black armor rode down the street.
“Come on.” Dell ran around the corner, barreling through a familiar door. The others skidded in behind him, ducking below a table so they couldn’t be seen through the window.
The smell of fresh bread replaced the putrid Madran air. Dell had spent as much time in Agathe’s bakery as anywhere else growing up. She’d helped raise him when his stepmother refused.
The counter near the back wall sat barren, no longer filled with pastries and sweet treats she was so known for. Then why did it smell as if she’d recently baked a new batch?
“Stay here,” he said. Something didn’t feel right. Where was Agathe? Why was her store open if she wasn’t there?
Along the walls, candles burned, signaling someone’s recent presence.
“Latch the door,” he hissed back to Tyson. Alex and Etta watched guards walk past the window as Dell crouched low.
He ducked behind the counter, almost crashing into a bucket of dishwater, and pulled his sword free as he nudged the door leading to the back rooms open. Agathe lived behind her bakery in a one room home. Darkness greeted him, but he sniffed the air, smelling the remnants of burning candles.
Someone was still there.
Agathe’s bed sat across the room, a blanket folded over the surface. The only other furniture was a table pushed against the wall and a high-backed chair with ripping seams sitting in front of a still burning fire.
Dell froze.
Still burning.
Dell felt a presence at his back and turned, ready to strike. Tyson raised an eyebrow, his face aglow in the light of the candle he carried.
“I told you to stay back,” Dell growled. Back in Bela and Gaule, he’d listened to them, followed them. But now they were in his kingdom, around his people.
He was in charge.
In true Tyson fashion, he shrugged as if the nerves weren’t getting to him at all. “Thought you’d want to know about the staircase Alex found in the ceiling.”
Staircase? Of course.
A thud sounded from above and Dell moved without thinking. He’d only ever been in Agathe’s large attic once when she needed help carrying storage containers. The stairs folded up into the ceiling, but Dell had seen her pull them down enough he knew exactly where the string wrapped around the top corner of the larger oven, out of sight.
Reaching up, he pulled it free.
Please let Agathe be okay. His plea went up to the heavens while at the same time, never leaving his mind.
He couldn’t take losing anyone else.
The steps descended from the ceiling, and Dell began the climb. Wood groaned under his feet as the stairs swayed with his weight.
He held on with one hand while keeping the other gripped around the hilt of his sword. At the top, a thin board covered the opening into the attic. Dell slammed his palm into it, shifting it out of the way and pulled himself through. Before he could brandish his sword, a length of steel flashed in front of his face.
His heart pounded against his ribs, threatening to burst through his chest. He sucked in a breath, reaching a hand down to tell those below him to wait.
A flame appeared with a familiar face behind it. Dell lunged, knocking Orlo onto his back. “What have you done with Agathe, you bloody bastard?”
Hands grabbed him, hauling him from a grinning Orlo.
“Should have known you’d show up.” A low chuckle drew Dell’s gaze to the man still holding him back.
“Edmund.” He shook his head and sat back on his heels. “You can come up now,” he yelled down to the others. “It’s safe.” He didn’t know what Orlo was doing here, but at the moment, he didn’t care because he caught sight of a weathered face smiling at him.
Crawling forward on his knees, he wrapped Agathe in a tight hug.
She gripped him with surprising strength. “Wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again, boyo.”
“You know me, Agathe. I can’t seem to stay away from trouble.”
She barked out a laugh and released him.
Tyson, Alex, and Etta crawled into the small space. Edmund’s eyes widened when he saw them.
Tyson shrugged. “I couldn’t let you have all the fun without me.”
It had been a given that Tyson would want to help Edmund. But the blonde man stared at Etta a
nd Alex as if he was seeing them for the first time.
“You and Camille are family,” Alex said.
Edmund nodded. “I’m glad you guys are here.”
“What have we stumbled into, Edmund?” Etta pinned him with a stare.
“How did you find me?”
Dell was the one who answered. “I had a hunch Agathe would know where you were.” As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he took in the cramped space. Empty platters were scattered over the floor next to overturned cups. How many people had been here? A shadowy figure sat hunched in the corner. Dell studied him for a moment before recognition set in.
“Quinn Rhodipus.”
The man’s head jerked up, and it was only then Dell noticed the ties around his wrists.
“Do I know you?” Quinn’s glare was so much like Helena’s, Dell looked away.
“I’m just the man who almost died trying to save you back in Gaule.” He faced Edmund. “Why is he tied up? What’s happening around here? We came to help, but we can’t do that until we know the full story.”
Edmund rubbed his tired eyes. “When the king sent the guard out searching for Quinn, it forced the rebels to split up and abandon the post they’d set up at my old house. We have rotating scouts out picking up information and others searching for any sign that Helena may send us a message.”
Dell’s blood surged. “I knew it. That’s why she…” He couldn’t say the words left me behind. “She knew I’d never let her do something so foolish.”
“Finally someone who sees how stupid it was.” Quinn scowled and shifted where he sat. “You were supposed to protect her, Edmund. Isn’t that what Stev asked you to do?”
Edmund lunged toward Quinn, stopping just short of pummeling him. “You don’t know what Stev wanted. Every breath you take betrays him. You work for the man who killed him.”
A look Dell couldn’t discern flashed across Quinn’s face, but Edmund didn’t notice it.
“You think he won’t hurt her?” Quinn said lowly. “You don’t know him at all.”
“Is that a threat?” Edmund pulled a knife free from his belt. “I should kill you for everything you’ve done.”
Quinn focused his eyes on the blade. Dell wondered if he should stop Edmund, but he didn’t dare intercede.
“I did it for her.” His voice was so quiet it took a moment for the words to sink in. Quinn hunched forward, burying his face in his hands.
Edmund sat back, tucking the knife away. There’d been a time when Edmund had been friends with most of the princes.
“What do you mean you did it for her?” Danger lurked behind Dell’s words.
Quinn lifted his eyes, allowing Dell a glimpse into the pain he tried to keep hidden. His family was tearing him apart. “I knew she’d come back.” His eyes flicked to Edmund. “I knew you both would, and I’d be no use to you locked in a cell at the ghostly monastery.”
Edmund pushed out a breath and rubbed his eyes. “I’ve known you since the day I set foot in Madra, Quinn. Yet, I’m not sure if I should believe you. You showed up at the docks to arrest me. Cole wouldn’t have known she would be there too, but you would have.”
“I had to. If I didn’t go, Cole would have sent someone else. I’m not going to lie to you, Edmund. I wouldn’t have been able to protect you. But Helena… you don’t know what has been going on at the palace in the months you’ve been gone. We have people there—more than you know—who have been working on returning Stev…” He stopped speaking as if he’d said something he hadn’t meant to.
It took Edmund a moment to react. He jerked forward, pulling his knife free once again and holding it to Quinn’s throat. “What about Stev?”
Quinn didn’t flinch away from the blade as he held Edmund’s gaze.
Dell and the others watched with bated breath.
Quinn lifted his chin. “We want to put Estevan back on the throne.”
Edmund’s knife clattered to the ground, and he fell back, his head shaking as if not believing a single word spoken. “He’s… He’s…”
“Alive.”
It was strange. How one word could change the entire outlook of a mission. Dell barely knew the oldest Rhodipus, and even his heart leapt. They’d come to Madra to take down a king, never thinking of what came after. Helena could have taken the throne, but Dell knew all she wanted was her family returned to her.
But Estevan?
If Helena was at the palace, had she seen him?
Edmund sucked in air like a man who never thought he’d take another breath. He ran a shaking hand through his hair.
Etta sat beside him and pulled his other hand away from where it scratched at the skin on his face. She laced her fingers through his.
“He’s alive, Edmund,” she whispered.
As if her words snapped something inside him, he folded in on himself, his back shuddering.
Dell knew he should look away, but he couldn’t. He’d only seen Edmund look so… breakable twice before. Once when he’d been forced to leave Estevan in Madra. And again when he’d learned of the prince’s supposed death.
For most of his life, Dell hid behind charm and a false ego, letting no one get close enough to have the kind of power over him that Estevan had over Edmund. He’d thought strength was being unbreakable.
He’d been wrong.
If he didn’t get to Helena in time, he’d never recover, but he loved her anyway.
Edmund had never stopped loving Estevan even when he thought he was dead, and it was the bravest thing Dell had ever seen. He let himself feel it all.
Edmund wiped his face. “I have to get to him.” He crawled toward the stairs. “We can’t sit here waiting any longer.”
Quinn, who’d silently let Edmund process this world-changing information, called Edmund back. “And what do you think you’re going to do?”
Edmund paused. “Whatever I have to.”
“If you go to the palace with nothing but vengeance on your mind, you won’t make it out. Cole has no ties to you like he does Helena.” At least he hoped Cole wouldn’t hurt his sister. If Stev was still alive, there had to be hope, right?
“I don’t care if I survive as long as Estevan does.”
Dell reached forward to grab Edmund’s arm. “You know what you went through after you thought he died. Do you wish that for him?” Dell had to make him see reason.
The door slamming down below made them all freeze.
“It’s probably just Landon.” Dell wished he was as confident in that as he sounded.
“Landon?” Quinn’s gaze snapped to his. “My cousin?”
“He’s the one who brought us to Gaule to try to save you. Then he decided to accompany us here.”
Quinn’s eyes widened.
“I’m going to see if it’s him,” Edmund said.
“Wait!” Quinn tried to move forward, but the ropes holding his wrists hindered him. “You can’t trust him.”
“He’s the only reason we knew you were being held prisoner in Gaule.” Alarm bells rang in Dell’s mind.
“Because he gave me to them.” He hardened his jaw. “Landon works for Cole.”
And he knew exactly where they were. Dell cursed. Should they have seen it? “We have to leave this place.”
Footsteps sounded below. Without thinking, Dell lowered himself through the opening in the floor, not bothering with the stairs. He hung for only a second before dropping on top of the intruder.
A string of curses flew from the woman’s mouth. A mouth Dell knew too well. They landed in a heap on the floor. He rolled off her with a grunt. “Catsja?”
She grimaced in pain as she sat up. “Dell Tenyson, you bloody fool. What was that for?”
He shocked her by pulling her into a hug. “It’s good to see you.”
The others descended the stairs, and Orlo’s thick hand gripped the back of Dell’s neck, hauling him away from Catsja.
He shook his head, surprised both Orlo and Catsja had joined the rebels. H
e shouldn’t have been. They hated the Madran army like none other.
“Another rebel?” Etta asked, checking her weapons.
Dell didn’t get a chance to answer because voices sounded out front as the door opened.
“Get down,” Edmund hissed, pulling Agathe behind a crate with him.
“They’re here,” a familiar voice said. “Find them.”
Landon. Fire raged through Dell’s veins. They couldn’t just wait to be found. He met Tyson’s gaze, knowing at least the impulsive young prince would agree with him.
Tyson nodded, gesturing to Etta. Without waiting to make sure the rest of them followed, Dell pulled his sword and charged into the front of the bakery.
The guards still pouring through the front door looked up, startled for only a moment before arming themselves to meet the charge.
Dell didn’t stop moving until he barreled right into one of the guards, swinging his sword in a wide arc.
Beside him, Tyson sprang forward, crashing his sword against Landon’s.
The rest of their group jumped into the fight, bumping into each other in the tight space. Tyson jumped away from Landon, letting Etta take over. The queen muttered under her breath. Dell knew little of her history with the general. Only that they fought La Dame together.
Tyson ran behind the counter, finding a bucket of water. He threw it into the air, holding his hands high and expanding the substance with his water magic, before sending spears of water crashing against each guard with enough force to drive them through the glass windows.
Shards rained down, but before hitting them, a gale of wind pushed the sharp pieces through the now open windows.
Out on the street, a crowd formed to watch the sopping guards pick themselves up. Quinn appeared and held out his wrists to Edmund. It was now or never. Trust him or don’t.
Edmund glanced sideways at him before slicing through his ropes and then extending the knife hilt first.
Quinn took it. “I need to return to the palace.”
Edmund, seeming to understand his meaning, nodded and faced him. “Do it.”
In a flash, Quinn’s fist connected with Edmund’s cheek, and he took off running toward the guards who were preparing for another fight.