Glass Kingdom

by M. Lynn

  As they rode through the monastery gates and down the hill into the city, Helena glanced back at the monastery, a shadow looming in the night.

  She was delivered from her prison, but what about the others? Why were they there?

  Something wasn’t right in Madra.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The day of the princess’ ball dawned bright in Madra, but quickly turned cold as rain clouds moved across the sky. A storm had churned out at sea for days and finally arrived on their shores.

  Dell peered up at the swirling darkness blocking the sun. A torrent of rain erupted from the heavens, crashing down on his head.

  Madrans ran through the streets in search of cover, but Dell didn’t move.

  His sopping clothes stuck to every curve of his body like a second skin and still, his feet remained frozen to the spot.

  He had nothing. Not anymore. Maybe he never had—at least not since his mother died.

  He hadn’t returned to his family’s estate after the Madran games where he saved the girl who assaulted his brother. Where the world found out he was a Tenyson.

  The shopkeepers he’d known for years now treated him as any other merchant—with formality and distrust. They were always wary of those who brought goods to the kingdom and swindled them.

  The night before, he’d slept on the deck of one of his family’s ships, but had to leave before the sailors arrived to prepare it to set sail.

  The Gaulean ship sat docked in the slip next to it, meaning Princess Camille was still there. A good sign for the royal betrothal, he assumed.

  He wouldn’t know. His Knowledge of palace happenings was limited. He hadn’t even spoken to Edmund since the night he’d returned Len to his home.

  Dell shook his head, rain streaming down his face as he finally jogged across the road to an alehouse, showcasing its welcome warmth through the open door.

  For once, chatter didn’t die down as he entered. Alehouses were the one place people of all stations mixed. Along the far wall, a table of Merchants dressed in their exotic finery bent over a stack of papers between them.

  Common folk escaping the deluge outside provided a cacophony of laughter.

  A table in the corner was the favored spot of mercenary soldiers. Most people kept their distance from the tattooed men and women who fought for a living. They weren’t like those who joined the royal army to feed their families.

  Mercenaries spoke as if they enjoyed what they did.

  Madran mercenary forces had fought across the sea for the sorcerer they called La Dame until she was defeated. Madran royal forces had been on the other side of that battle. So many families lost their loved ones to war.

  The difference was choice. Those in the royal army had no choice where they were sent or for whom they fought.

  Mercenaries chose based on who paid the highest coin.

  Where did Dell belong? Even in an alehouse meant to be a meeting place of all people, he didn’t fit.

  He took the only empty table wedged up beside the mercenaries.

  Catsja appeared, mug in hand. “Hi, sweetie.” She smiled as she set the ale down. “You look a little lost today.” She reached out and trailed a finger down his cheek.

  Dell peered up into her dull gray eyes. Catjsa was a beautiful woman with her long, raven hair piled in an intricate design on top of her head. Eyes that spoke of experience with the world. A petite frame.

  But he suddenly didn’t understand why he’d fought Orlo for her. She was his wife, and Dell was nothing but a potential distraction.

  He leaned back, away from her roving hands. “I’m okay, Catjsa.” He pulled a coin from his pocket and set it on the table. “Thank you.”

  She flicked her eyes from the coin to him and back again and shook her head. “No, dear. You’re not.” She wiped her hands on her apron and glanced behind her to make sure none of the other patrons needed her before sliding into the seat across from him.

  “What’s on your mind, Dell Tenyson?” She pushed his ale toward him. “It’s lunch. Drink up and when you’re finished telling me all about this woman you can’t stop thinking of, I’ll fetch you some bread and cheese.”

  He met her eyes. “Grapes too… if you have them.”

  She laughed, and he found he enjoyed her laugh when she lost the predatory glint in her eye. “Grapes too. Now out with it.”

  He scratched his chin, trying to figure out what he could say without telling her too much. “I have a friend,” he began. “And I think she’s in trouble.”

  “How so?” Catjsa leaned forward, listening intently.

  “The man she’s with… she’s alluded to not being allowed to leave.”

  Darkness crossed Catjsa’s face. “That is the way of many marriages.”

  “But they aren’t married. He is to wed someone else. I think she’s in danger.”

  “Then what are you going to do about it?”

  “Do?”

  “Yes, Dell.” She laughed. “If this woman means something to you, there must be something you can do to help her.”

  Talk from the table beside them froze both Dell and Catjsa.

  “Have the rebels contacted us?” one of the mercenaries asked.

  “Yes,” another affirmed. “And we turned down their offer.”

  “There have been rumblings,” a low voice growled. “Within the royal army itself.”

  The first snorted. “That’s why you never make an oath of infinite fidelity. Then you don’t have to break it. They’re faithless.”

  Catsja leaned closer to Dell. “Never thought I’d see the day the royal army turned on the king.”

  “What’s going on?” Dell asked.

  “The last few weeks, we’ve had a lot of mercenaries in here. Seems there are rumors the royal forces may be tiring of the king’s wars like the rest of us.”

  Dell tried to cover his intense interest in the subject by shifting his gaze to the table. “And the mercenaries don’t like this?”

  “It’s the principal. A mercenary is ruthless, but on the rare occasion you get them to give their word, they won’t break it. Ever. Killers, but loyal killers at least.”

  The information took hold in Dell’s mind. He needed to talk to Edmund. Did he know of the shifting loyalties of the army? Or the danger it posed for the royal kingdom? The army was the king’s power.

  “Do you think the mercenaries will join forces with those who wish the king ill?” he asked. As owner of an alehouse, Catjsa knew more of the realm’s happenings than most.

  “No,” she said with conviction. “Mercenaries have rules they live by. One such rule is they don’t fight within Madra. They won’t support civil war destroying the kingdom.”

  His shoulders relaxed. That was a relief at least.

  Catsja pushed herself up from her chair. “Remember all I’ve said, Dell. If you care for the woman at all, you will fight for her.”

  A serving woman arrived with Dell’s lunch, but he barely touched it as he drained the rest of his ale and stood.

  Catsja was right.

  He had to find Len.

  And there was only one way into the palace.

  He was going to a ball.

  As the skies continued to dump misery down upon the city, Dell ran through the streets. Flashes of lightning lit his way, and thunder rang at his back as if it would rip the world in two. He spotted Agathe in the window of her bakery but ignored her frantic waving to get him to stop. He only had a few hours before the ball.

  Only the servants occupied his family’s house when he arrived. The great Lady Tenyson was at the docks examining the newest shipment. Was she involved in the coup, or was it his brother’s plan? He shook his head. He didn’t have any proof Edmund had spoken the truth about his family.

  Dell didn’t know where his brothers were, but he needed them to stay gone for a while.

  He had nothing suitable to wear for a ball, but Reed was about his size. He burst into the dry house, streaking muddy footprint
s across white tile floors.

  One of the maids watched him in disgust, but he couldn’t stop to help clean his own mess. Not when he needed to be there for Len. Would they allow her to attend the ball? Who knew the restrictions mistresses faced in the palace? He just needed to see she was ok. Just a glimpse.

  Once her safety was plain, he’d fade back into obscurity. Maybe he’d leave the city altogether. He couldn’t stay. Not as a Tenyson, both hated by his own family and their enemies, alike.

  He thought back to the mercenary units and their strange code of honor. Sure, they’d chosen evil over good time and again, depending on who could pay, but there was an appeal in living life with no care for what one did. In the freedom it allowed. The protection it provided. From disappointment. From the kind of heartbreak he’d known too often in his life.

  A door slammed shut somewhere in the house and moments later, Reed appeared in his doorway.

  “Dell.” He stopped, his eyes scanning Dell from soggy hair to muddy boots. “What are you doing?”

  Reed was the least threatening member of the family, but he still followed Ian’s every command.

  Dell didn’t have time to play games with either of his brothers. “I’m going to the ball.”

  “You…” He glanced back over his shoulder before stepping inside the room and shutting the door. “They won’t let you. You have to know that.”

  Dell turned back to the wardrobe where he found the cloak and mantle he’d been searching for.

  He stepped toward the door, and Reed blocked his path. “Not this way, Dell.”

  “What do you mean ‘not this way’? What other way is there for me to leave? Get out of my way.”

  “Ian and mother are downstairs. If you storm down there, stealing clothes from me as you do, they won’t let you out of this house.”

  Dell met his brother’s eye. Reed had never given a care for Dell’s wellbeing. Even when they were boys and Dell arrived, mourning his mother and scared, neither brother extended a hand. They’d been nothing but cruel. Yet now, something stirred behind Reed’s eyes. Some conflict.

  Voices entered the hall. “Our people are in place,” Ian’s words drifted in to them.

  A woman whose voice Dell didn’t recognize responded. “And there will be a new king?”

  “Yes. With me as head merchant. The Tenysons will stay at the tip of the spiral, never having to worry about the long fall down.”

  Reed’s eyes widened, and he gripped the door handle, ready to tell his older brother of Dell’s presence.

  Dell whipped his whittling knife from his pocket and lunged for Reed, holding the sharp tip at his throat. “Don’t make a sound,” Dell whispered.

  Ian continued speaking in the hall. “We have been assured all preparations are complete. Our man inside the palace tells me it’s time to move. The army stands at the ready.”

  The woman hummed low in her throat. “I see. My messengers have all departed. Everything will be set. I do wish you extended your trust enough to tell me who will let us in.”

  Dell strained his ears… waiting.

  “I’m sorry,” Ian said after a brief moment. “I cannot do that until the time is right.”

  Their footsteps faded away, and Dell pulled the knife from Reed’s throat.

  “Dell…” Reed eyed him cautiously. “You could ruin everything.”

  Dell tilted his head to the side, studying the brother he was only now seeing for the first time. “The question now is—do you want me to ruin everything?”

  Reed jerked away from him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Those words were treason, Reed.” Dell pointed to the door. “Treason! Are you a traitor to Madra?”

  “They’re trying to save Madra.”

  Dell laughed harshly. “They’re trying to wrest the power from the king, but you can’t seriously think they’ll use that power to fix the kingdom.”

  “The king is a worthless fool.”

  Dell nodded. “And he’s cruel and sends too many young men and women to die in senseless battles. But give me a break, Reed. You know Ian. You know the kinds of people he’d associate with.” He froze. Edmund was right. His entire family was plotting against the royals.

  And he suddenly knew what side he was on.

  The side that prevented civil war and didn’t allow Ian anywhere near the merchant council’s ruling chair.

  “I have to go.” He pushed Reed out of the way and yanked the door open moments before crashing into Ian.

  “Seems we have a problem.” Ian’s lip curled.

  Dell refused to back down. “Seems we do.” He prepared for the fight he knew was coming.

  Ian put two fingers in his mouth and a shrill whistle sounded. Heavy boots pounded up the steps. Dell didn’t know what was going on or why the thugs running toward them were with his brother.

  “Lock him in the cellar.” Ian gestured toward Dell, and the four men surrounded him, preventing him from escape. One took the clothes he still held and handing them to the wide-eyed Reed.

  “You don’t want to do this, Reed,” Dell called behind him.

  Ian laughed. “Of course he does. He’s a true Tenyson. Unlike you.”

  Two of the men wrapped meaty hands around Dell’s arms and lifted him off the ground like he was nothing more than a sack of potatoes.

  They marched into the swirling storm, the rain pounding in time with Dell’s rapid heartbeats.

  “You won’t get away with this,” he growled as Ian trailed them, wiping water from his face.

  “Of course I will. I will soon be one step away from the throne.”

  One of the men ran forward and unlocked the thin wooden door that led to the cellar. He pulled it open, revealing a staircase down into the earth.

  A hand landed on Dell’s back, pushing him forward into the door. His feet missed the stairs altogether. He hit the ground with a bone-jarring force, his shoulder slamming into the packed dirt floor.

  Ian’s face was the last thing he saw before the door slid down, throwing him into complete and utter blackness.

  Chapter Sixteen

  None of them knew. It was one of the first things Helena realized about the servants and advisors who walked the palace grounds. No one told them she was missing or that her own father allowed the priests to imprison her.

  If they saw the scene days ago outside the front steps, they wouldn’t have recognized her. Except for a few loyal servants allowed into the royal family’s wing, they had never seen her face.

  So, when she walked by and they bowed with a formal “princess” all she could do was act as if none of it had happened; as if she hadn’t lost faith in everything Madra stood for. Laws that resulted in the kind of pain she’d seen in the priests’ hole were laws that didn’t need to be cemented into the kingdom’s sacred traditions. They need to be ripped apart at the seams to find where Madra had gone so very wrong.

  When Stev brought her back to the palace the night before, he’d hidden her in Quinn’s now empty room. Cole had hugged her so tight, like he worried she’d disappear again.

  And Kassander… her sweet brother refused to leave her side, even sleeping in Quinn’s bed with her.

  Camille walked at her side as they made their way to the family wing, the soft thumping of her cane now a comforting melody. Because Helena needed a friend. Someone who wasn’t simply one of her brothers.

  “I’m still surprised my father didn’t force you to attend the Madran games.” Helena glanced sideways at the foreign princess.

  Camille frowned. “I am not of Madra. He cannot command me.”

  A hesitant smile spread across Helena’s face. She’d grown accustomed to and rather fond of Camille’s abruptness.

  “Are you… are you coming to my ball tonight?” She held her breath, hoping her new friend would stand at her side.

  “Now that, dear Helena, I do not have a choice in. It’s an important night for you and my betrothal to your brother is
to be announced.”

  Helena’s steps faltered. “Are you… okay with everything?”

  To Helena’s surprise, Camille laughed. “You mean my future husband being in love with Edmund? I have no illusions about love or fairytales. We princesses aren’t meant for such things. We secure alliances and consolidate power. We don’t fall in love.”

  A sigh escaped Helena as she pushed open the door leading into the family wing. Camille’s words rang true, yet she’d always had an image in her mind of a man sweeping in gallantly and stealing the breath right from her lungs.

  She froze as she came face to face with her father for the first time since the Madran games.

  Red crept up his neck and a vein stood out in his forehead. Those were the only signs of his distress. The blue and red military uniform he insisted upon wearing was perfectly pressed and his thinning gray hair was combed over the side just like any other day.

  “Helena,” he barked.

  Camille reached out and gripped Helena’s hand, letting her know she wasn’t going anywhere.

  The king advanced. “I sent someone to fetch you from the monastery. He returned only to tell me you were already gone. The priests were quite distraught at your disobedience.”

  Helena lifted her chin, meeting her father’s gaze. “I needed to prepare for my ball, father.”

  He stepped forward until his shadow loomed over her. “Your insolence is alarming, child. Make no mistake, this ball is but a formality. You will be given a Madran husband of great standing who will not abide by your churlish disposition.”

  “What will you have them do, your Majesty?” she spat. “I’m already a prisoner within your walls. There is little they can take from me.”

  The sting spread across her cheek before she realized he’d struck her with the back of his hand. She stumbled back, rubbing her face, as shouting erupted with the arrival of Cole and Stev from their rooms.

  Stev ran to her side while Cole used his large frame to force their father back.

  “You okay?” Stev asked, bending his head to examine her reddened cheek.