by M. Lynn
Dell sighed. He hadn’t wanted it to come to this. He pulled a knife from a hidden pocket within his cloak.
The prince flicked his eyes from the short blade to Dell’s face and a grin stretched his thin lips. “Pulling a weapon on a member of the royal family is punishable by death.” He took a step forward. “But I’m not sure that can qualify as a weapon.”
Dell felt the tip with his finger. “It has a pointy end.”
The prince laughed again and relaxed his stance. “Pointy end? You’ve obviously spent no time with the army, boy. I could split you open from nose to navel. You a fighter?”
Len chose that moment to be helpful. “He boxes.”
The prince raised an eyebrow. “Put that knife away, kid. I’m not going to hurt the girl. She belongs with me, not here—”
“Among your people?”
“Dell,” Len warned. “Really. I’m okay.”
He didn’t even know her. Why didn’t he want to let her go? Prince Estevan, for all his faults, didn’t have a reputation of debauchery like the bastard princes. He was serious, hard, and had views on the world that would turn Madra to ash, but he wasn’t evil. Only misguided.
He spared Dell one more glance before putting his hand on Len’s back and ushering her out.
Mari stepped up to Dell’s side. Her words held a teasing lilt. “What were you going to do? Fight him with your carving knife? He isn’t made of wood.”
He studied the knife in his hand. There was little in his life he did for pure enjoyment, but wood carving gave him a sense of peace. He ran his thumb over the family crest on the handle. Not the Tenyson crest. This one belonged to his mother. She’d taught him to create beauty amid the chaos in his life. Amid the pain and the hardship.
He slid the knife back into his shirt pocket and held it against his chest. “I have to go. I’ve already missed too much work and my step-mother’s punishment will only get worse.”
Mari clucked her tongue. “Well, you can’t be seen in this part of town.” She touched his shoulder and warmth flooded him for only a moment before it disappeared.
He’d never get used to her magic. He ran his hands down the front of his shirt. “I don’t ever feel as if your magic is working. When I see myself, I don’t notice a change.”
She smiled. “Because you don’t understand how my power works. I don’t alter your appearance. I change other’s visual perception of you. But it only ever lasts a few hours.”
Dell bent to kiss Mari on the cheek. “Thanks, love.” He left through the front door, calling back over his shoulder, “I appreciate you!”
Chapter Three
Stev barely spoke on the ride through the streets and up the hill where the palace sat nestled among high columns separating it from the surrounding city. There would be no secret tunnels this time. The guards and servant busybodies would have the perfect view of the crown prince dragging a young boy into the palace. Only, she wasn’t a young boy.
She was the princess.
But none of them knew her face. Maybe they’d assume it was Kassander who’d run off and the rumors would spread.
She fidgeted in the carriage as the door opened. Stev climbed out and then held a hand up to help her.
She scanned the courtyard for any hint of the priesthood that controlled the lives of Madra’s royal family. Her fingers grasped Stev’s as if she’d fall apart without him. How was she supposed to face her father after she’d been caught breaking one of the most sacred laws of Madra? It didn’t matter that it wasn’t fair. That she thought a princess should have as much freedom as any prince.
He would be so disappointed. Her relationship with her father and eldest brother wasn’t always smooth, but she didn’t want to let them down.
With a sigh, she gripped Stev’s hand tighter. “I’m sorry.”
His stern face softened, and he ran a hand over the top of her head. “I don’t mean to always be so… rough with you, sister. But if something were to happen to you…”
“It won’t. No one in the city even knows I’m a girl.”
“That boy—”
“Dell? He’s harmless… I think. Honestly, I don’t really know. He’s a bit full of himself. But Edmund knows him. Do you trust Edmund?”
“Of course.”
She smiled. Edmund was the one person who could always bring out a lightness in her brother.
“I won’t do it again,” she said, squeezing his hand.
He scrubbed a hand over his olive-toned face. “Don’t make promises you won’t keep, Helena. You’ve seen so little of what’s outside these palace walls. But I won’t stop coming for you. You’re the one person…” He trailed off.
She couldn’t remember a time when her brother said so many words to her at once. He wasn’t one to talk about his feelings.
She didn’t have time to respond because Edmund awaited them amid the stone columns leading up to the steps at the front of the palace.
“Have a fun jaunt?” he asked.
She glared at him. “And just how was it that Stev knew exactly where to find me?”
Edmund fixed her with a disapproving stare.
“I had to know,” she huffed.
“Know what?” Stev asked.
Edmund didn’t take his eyes from Helena. “Is this about the magic or the boy?”
Stev’s eyes widened. “Len knows about Mari and Corban’s magic?”
Helena stumbled away from them. “You know?”
“I am heir to the throne of Madra.”
As if that answer explained anything. The king had many spies throughout the city. Did Stev have some as well?
“Come.” Stev climbed the steps briskly.
Once inside the family quarters of the palace, Helena relaxed. It might have given her freedom to be without the mask, but it still seemed unnatural.
Her maid appeared, a frown etched onto her withered face. Sophia had been with her since birth.
“Child,” the old woman tsked, scanning her clothes up and down.
Edmund and Stev left her without another word and Sophia ushered her toward the washroom. The maid stripped Helena’s clothes from her body without ceremony. As she stepped into the bronze tub and sat in the tepid water, Helena thought of the boy bathing in the river.
His broad chest had shocked her at first and when he’d stepped from the water… She shook her head and focused on his twinkling eyes instead. Under the filth left over from his fight, was a ruggedly handsome man.
A commoner.
What was wrong with her?
In a month’s time, she would choose a husband, or at least that was how it would seem. In truth, her father’s will meant more than hers. Her life would soon be tied to a very different man. Would he be handsome? Quick to smile? Dell looked as if he was made to laugh. Not like the serious noblemen she’d have to entertain at her ball.
A torrent of water splashing over her head pulled her from her thoughts.
“Sophia,” she shrieked.
“Stop daydreaming and scrub. You look more street urchin than princess.”
Once she finished and dressed, Sophia pinned her hair up in intricate loops. It took much more time than Helena would have normally liked, but she was grateful for the delay. She knew what her next task would be.
Facing her father.
The walk across blue velvet floors seemed to take forever and no time at all. Dark cherry-wood walls closed in on her like a tunnel until all she could see was the door to the council chambers where her father awaited.
She lifted her hands to her face, feeling around the edges of the mask. Most of the time, it was her prison, but in this moment, the mask calmed her. Not even her father could see what was truly behind it.
The guards nodded as she stopped on the threshold of the open chamber. She ran her hands down the lacy emerald dress Sophia had forced on her. At least the queen would approve.
Helena’s eyes scanned the room. A circular table sat in the middle. On the far si
de, the king bent over a map he’d spread across the surface. A few of his advisors stood near, listening to him speak. Stev and Edmund were among them.
The queen was nowhere to be found, but that wasn’t surprising. She preferred not to speak of warfare, and judging by the generals present, that was exactly what was going on. None of the men even noticed her presence.
Behind Stev stood two priests Helena would recognize anywhere. As a girl, they’d taught her the duties of a princess of Madra. Basically, they’d taught her the necessity of hiding her face.
The priesthood in Madra didn’t worship a higher power. They spent their lives in contemplation of the past. They wrote laws in their halls before bringing them to the king. They fashioned themselves the protector of Madran tradition, Madran soul. And apparently, revealing the face of a princess before her betrothal would tarnish that soul.
They also controlled the Madran prisons.
Helena had never developed the faith in the priesthood her father had.
“Sire,” Edmund’s voice snapped her back to the matter at hand. “I really think you can pull your forces from the interior of Bela. Just leave the few stationed at the Draconian border. The others are needed elsewhere.”
Where were they needed? Home. The thought came unbidden to her mind. The soldiers were needed at home. Some of them had been away for years. Their wives and children needed them now. The Madran fields and granaries needed them.
She’d never understood her father’s constant wars or his acceptance of everything they cost the kingdom.
“No.” The king shook his head. “Bela has magic. We must keep our presence there.”
“With all due respect, your Majesty.” Edmund’s voice grew louder. “The Draconian war ended years ago. I know because I was there. I fought alongside your Madran forces and we were grateful for your aid, but your treasury cannot afford to continue keeping an eye on us. You can trust Queen Persinette. Gaule’s fear of magic nearly destroyed them, don’t make the same mistake.”
“We aren’t Gaule.”
“No,” Edmund agreed. “Because it’s not too late for you. Your people are suffering because your treasury runs dry, and the men who work the fields are off with the army. You have units in Bela, Gaule, Andes, and Cana.”
“We are aiding those kingdoms.”
A new voice piped in, one that made her stomach roil. “Maybe you should aid your own kingdom.”
Helena’s eyes snapped to the speaker.
“Ian,” a harsher voice hissed.
The king lifted his eyes. “Young Tenyson, please, tell me what you really think.”
Ian opened his mouth again, but an older woman gripped his arm.
“Let me apologize for my son, your Majesty. This is his first meeting of the war council.”
The king raised one brow. “We invited you here to observe, boy. Let those with more experience speak.”
Ian’s jaw clenched, a look Helena had seen before.
He wasn’t any younger than Stev, but Stev had been raised for these duties and his voice carried more weight. He also had the good sense to know when not to speak.
Why was Ian invited? His mother, Lady Tenyson, was not a member of the war council, having no experience in battle. She was a merchant. Yes, the most powerful merchant in Madra, but that wouldn’t do much good when speaking of tactics. But Ian had always been favored. It was why she’d had to suffer his company more frequently than she preferred.
He used to pursue her openly, but that all changed when she embarrassed him in front of her brothers by refusing to spend time alone with him. She’d admit, she was harsh, and it hadn’t helped that her brothers started laughing. Since then, he’d treated her with nothing but scorn.
Hands slid around Helena’s waist from behind and she squealed as her feet left the ground.
“Hiya, sister.” Cole laughed.
She turned when he put her down and threw her arms around him. “Cole, you’re back!”
An identical copy of Cole entered behind him. “Quinn!”
The bastard princes had left more than a year ago with a unit of the army sent to drive off a Madran mercenary force in Cana.
She released Cole and threw herself at Quinn.
He squeezed her tightly. “Missed you, sis.”
She’d missed them. Cole and Quinn’s absence had been wholly felt.
The entire room had quieted and turned to them.
“What are you doing here?” she asked Quinn.
“We wouldn’t miss your ball.” Cole smirked before walking to shake Lady Tenyson’s hand and give Ian a hug. Cole was almost closer to their family than his own.
Quinn crossed to his father and offered his hand.
“Welcome home, son,” the king said.
Quinn then gave Stev a hug and shook a few more hands.
Helena took a tentative step into the room. She caught Stev’s eye. He frowned and studied her for a moment before shaking his head. Relief shot through her, and she lifted her chin. Stev had decided not to tell their father of her trip into the city.
Quinn stepped back to her side and leaned in. “What did you do?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she responded.
“I’ve been here two seconds and can already see the warning looks Edmund is shooting toward Stev. In turn, Stev is glaring at you.”
I gave Stev a grateful smile as I leaned closer to Quinn. “He’s saving me.”
The king finally noticed her presence. “Helena, I’m sure you have better things to do.”
She sighed. As a girl, she’d spent countless hours sitting in on war meetings, fascinated. As she grew older, it wasn’t considered proper. She was second born, meaning her only worry need be the council of merchants she’d one day lead.
As she turned to leave, she felt a set of eyes following her and her gaze met Ian’s. A shiver raced down her spine because everything suddenly made sense. Why he was there.
The Madran law stated a princess would choose her own husband as long as he was of Madran descent. That was the reason for the ball—but her father was known to always weight his dice.
Wouldn’t it be a great feat to tie the royal family to the highest of the merchants? The throne would have a power that hadn’t been seen in a long time.
She made it back to the royal residence and ripped the mask from her face.
She wouldn’t do it. The Tenyson’s were vile, conniving, wretches. She’d seen the lecherous looks both sons sent her way.
Her father could make deals all he wanted, but there was one thing she knew for certain.
She would never marry a Tenyson.
Chapter Four
An icy blast of water struck Dell’s face, and he sputtered awake, almost falling from his loft in the barn. His eyes snapped open to find the haggard face of his stepmother hovering over him. She threw the now empty wooden bucket behind her and planted both hands on her expensive gown covered hips.
He would have laughed at her presence among the un-mucked stalls and animal smells, but her shrill voice permeated the air instead.
“You ungrateful boy. Where have you been? No one has seen you in days.”
He may have thought she’d worried over his absence if he didn’t know her.
He would not tell her the truth, so he decided to go with nothing at all.
She narrowed her eyes. “You will make up the work. The Madran trader, our largest ship, is leaving a day late to pick up the next shipment coming across the border into Bela. It leaves on the noon tide. Get to the ship.”
The Madran Trader has been his father’s prized ship. He shook his head. His father was dead. None of the ships were his anymore. They belonged to the Tenyson trading company. An operation he should have been more involved in than cleaning decks.
His stepmother turned and stomped across the straw-covered floor before flinging open the wooden door.
Dell groaned as he sat up and flipped wet hair out of his eyes. A fe
w of the stable lads were waking in their beds. When Dell had first arrived at Tenyson manor and the storm took his father, he couldn’t understand why the rest of his supposed family would force him to live with the help. Over the years, he’d been glad of it. It was better than suffocating inside that house.
He climbed from the bunk and slid his shirt off, finding a dry one to replace it. Corban’s healing was incredible and efficient, but it used the body’s own energy to heal and he felt it for days in the strain of his muscles.
He rubbed his eyes and flattened his hair. Time for another day of working for people who could destroy him if he refused. He had no other choices. No money. No family other than the Tenysons.
Nothing.
He’d made peace with this life a long time ago. His only other option was to join one of the mercenary troops and he wasn’t prepared for that.
The sun had yet to appear when he left the barn behind. A few shop owners were preparing for the day. The smell of fresh baked bread hung in the air. Dell glanced back over his shoulder to make sure his stepmother hadn’t followed him before ducking inside the bakery.
Agathe, the bakery owner stood at the counter shaping unbaked loaves. “Dell.” She smiled. “It’s been a few days, honey.”
“Morning.” He walked forward and kissed the old woman’s cheek. Her hair was pulled back from her face in a neat bun, revealing intelligent eyes. He leaned against the counter. “I was with Mari and Corban.”
“Uh oh.” She grinned. She’d always taken great entertainment in his antics. “Who did you fight this time?”
“Orlo.”
She choked on a breath. “We need to work on that brain of yours, boy.” She laughed. “Or maybe it’s the ego that needs work.”
He shrugged and snagged a pastry from the bin. She slapped his hand.
He reached into his pocket and procured one of the few silver coins he had left.
“Do I want to know how you got that?” Agathe asked.
“Probably not.”
She lifted a flour-covered hand and patted his cheek. “I’m not taking your money, boy. Just come back this evening. You can eat dinner with me and share more of those joyful smiles.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “I swear, you keep me young.”