by M. Lynn
The truth stood between them. Their father wouldn’t care if she fell ill as long as she eventually returned.
Quinn went on. “I’m going to station a guard I trust outside the privy so father believes it. You can go taste your freedom for a few minutes and then come right back. I’m sending one of my men down there to keep an eye on you.”
“That’s not—”
“Negotiable.”
“Fine.”
“I would rather accompany you. It would make me feel better.”
Helena touched his arm. “But I’m not going as the princess so I can’t really have the prince with me, can I?” She gestured to his bag. “I know you don’t fight shirtless like Dell does. Let’s see what I have to work with.”
He reached in and pulled out long wool pants and a shirt she was going to drown in.
“More complicated than borrowing from Kass,” she grumbled.
Quinn laughed and gestured to the privy door nearby.
Helena left her brother in the hall and stepped into the small washroom. As soon as the door slammed shut behind her, she pulled at the laces on the front of her dress, thankful her mother hadn’t forced a corset on her. She slipped the knife, her constant companion, from her bodice and wiggled out of the gown. As she slipped Quinn’s clothes on, she sighed at the comfort.
The pants tried falling to her knees, so she knotted them at the waist and rolled them until her feet were visible. The shirt hung off her small frame as if it was meant for an ape. She guessed it was, thinking of Quinn’s bulk. She tucked it into her pants, knowing she probably looked like one of the homeless boys begging at the docks.
Her fingers ran under the bottom of the mask and she hesitated before untying it.
Pins dropped to the ground as she pulled them from her hair. She used the last few to pull her long curls back into the low tail worn by many sailors.
As she stepped from the room, Quinn held in a laugh and handed her a cloak.
“Where did you get this?” she asked. It was a thin linen, worn mostly by commoners.
“One of the guards.” He shrugged as he eyed her curiously. “I thought Stev was joking when he told me before, but you really could pass for a young man.”
“Just what every woman wants to hear.”
He leaned in. “Those trying to disguise themselves should be pleased with the observation.”
She started down the hall and turned to her brother once more. “Quinn… thank you.”
“Any time, little sister. If there’s one thing I’ve learned through years of war, it’s that freedom is often more important than safety or tradition.”
She smiled once more as she rounded the corner. That was why she’d gone to Quinn for help. He understood.
She raced through the back hall until she found the door leading to the rest of the arena. A guard stood to one side, but he barely glanced at her, probably assuming she was a servant. They were worried about people coming in, not leaving.
That could be a problem for her, but she didn’t stop to think about her return.
The crowd enveloped her as soon as she stepped onto the arena floor under the open sky. They wrapped her in their excitement. Their cheers vibrated through her bones. Adrenaline shot through her heart. This was what the royal family missed up on their platform.
Down here, among the people, there was life.
She nudged her way through the throng until she came upon the boxing match she’d needed to see up close. Was Corban here in case Dell needed him?
Sweat dripped between the ridges of Dell’s abs and Helena’s cheeks warmed as she remembered the day at the river. The day she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about.
Right before Dell risked himself trying to protect her from Stev.
A crunch ripped through the air as Orlo’s fist connected to Dell’s jaw. The crowd cheered, rooting for Orlo. He was one of the few fighters who was one of them and not a merchant.
Helena shrank back as Dell reeled from the impact, his eyes connecting with hers as blood flew from his mouth.
An old woman beside her gasped. “That poor boy.”
Helena couldn’t help herself as she pulled the hood of the cloak farther around her face and turned to the woman. “You know the boxers, ma’am?”
She nodded, wiping a tear from under her eye. “Dell is such a sweet boy. Those brothers of his on the other hand…” She clamped her mouth shut as if she’d said something she shouldn’t.
“Len.” Dell’s voice had Helena snapping her eyes to his. Orlo had retreated for a moment.
Crimson blood trickled from a cut on his brow, but he smiled.
He’d heard Stev call her Len, and it was too close to her real name, to all her secrets, but as she looked into the hazy eyes of the man before her, she didn’t care.
Orlo stalked toward him.
“Be careful, Dell,” she said.
He winked. “Always, darling.” He twisted around to duck the next attack.
Helena should have left right then. She’d gotten the taste of excitement she’d wanted and her family would look for her.
But she couldn’t move as Dell’s knees struck the ground.
Chapter Twelve
Heat radiated up from the sandy arena floor as Orlo drove Dell onto his back.
The loss felt so familiar. Yet, this time, he had a bigger audience. The crowd had chosen to support Orlo since he was one of them. Dell never had been, and now they knew it.
A cheer wound around the arena. “Orlo! Orlo! Orlo!” Only the merchants stayed quiet.
Orlo raised his arms to the crowd, basking in their adoration. He was about to beat the son of the highest merchant in Madra.
“What do we have here?” Ian’s voice pushed all fog from Dell’s mind.
He spared a moment to find his brother and… he noticed her. Dammit, Len! He’d told her that disguise wouldn’t work if anyone looked closely. And Ian had.
The eldest Tenyson had the eyes of a hawk, and they’d targeted Len, the girl Dell still knew too little about.
“No,” he roared as he rolled to his feet, pain slicing through him at the movement.
He ran for Orlo, catching him around his thick waist and driving him into the ground. The momentary shock was all he needed to bring his fist down on the other man’s face.
Ian would not touch Len, but if Dell was to stop it, he had to win this fight first. To end it.
He beat down on Orlo with a ferocity he’d never experienced before, anger rushing through him.
His chest heaved as he shoved himself off the still man.
Orlo raised an arm laboriously.
He conceded.
Shock pierced into Dell. He’d won.
But he didn’t have time to soak in the sound of his name now roaring through the crowd. With every bit of strength he had left, he sprinted toward his brother who had a grip on Len’s arm.
“Come on, sweetheart,” Ian cooed. “I’ll show you a good time.”
“Let me go.” Ice laced her voice.
“I don’t think so.”
Len narrowed her eyes seconds before twisting in his grasp, pulling a knife free of a sheath at her waist, and pointing it at him. She pulled on the bandage around his other arm. It came loose easily and Ian used his supposedly injured arm to slap her.
Dell jumped for them, wrenching his brother back. “Don’t touch her,” he growled.
“So much for being injured.” She rubbed her cheek and raised her voice. “Looks like someone wanted to avoid fighting for his own honor. The princess will never choose a coward.”
Ian glared up at the royal platform. The princess no longer sat in her seat and he shook his head. “I can ruin you, girl. Commoners like you are a scourge on this kingdom.”
“And merchants like you destroy everything you touch.”
He leaned closer and before Dell could stop him, he pressed his lips to hers. Dell shoved himself between them but not before Ian yelped and jumped bac
k. “She bit me.” He searched their surroundings. “Guards. This woman assaulted me.”
Assaulting a merchant—whether or not you did it—had strict penalties.
Dell took Len by the arm. “Want to get out of here?”
Her eyes flicked to the king, indecision warring in her gaze. She flipped the knife in her hand and shoved it back into the sheath, giving him a nod.
Guards ran toward them and Dell pulled Len into a run. He never lost his grip on her hand as they weaved their way to the arena gates and out into the city. Heavy footsteps sounded behind them.
“The stables,” Dell said, changing direction. He pulled Len along as her short legs struggled to keep up. Her breaths came out in harsh pants.
Behind the arena sat the largest stables in the city. Only merchants had the privilege of using them. They slowed to a walk. Dell glanced over his shoulder. The guards had stopped at the gates of the arena, not bothering to chase them.
The guard at the stable door eyed him curiously before recognition lit in his eyes. Ian and Reed had made Dell bring their horses to the stables. He wound through the rows of stalls, making sure Len was still behind him.
Horse-Ian lifted his head as Dell stepped in front of him. “Alright, ye old bastard, we need to get out of here.”
Horse-Ian snorted as his lips pulled back to show his teeth.
Dell swung the worn wooden stall door open and lifted the saddle from where it hung on a brass hook.
“Hurry,” Len whispered, throwing a glance toward the door.
Dell didn’t understand why she was so worried. They wouldn’t come after two people who didn’t matter.
Dell listened for any sign of the guards. “We’ll be fine,” he said.
“Are you sure?”
“You’re the one who seems to have skill with that knife of yours.” He lifted a brow. “You can just fight them off.”
Her mouth dropped open.
A laugh burst out of Dell. “I’m kidding. We’ll be fine, but if it makes you feel better, we can change our appearances. They’d look for a shirtless man and someone in a hood, give me your cloak.”
She didn’t hesitate as she unclasped it and shrugged it off. Hair broke free of the pins binding it to her head, giving her a wild look.
Her clothes spoke of a commoner but her smooth olive skin lacked the damage most Madrans suffered from working in the sun.
As her fingers brushed his, he felt no callouses.
He shook off his momentary stupor and fastened the cloak at the neck. Gesturing to the horse, he said, “Up you go.”
Her eyes flicked from the horse to his face and back again. “I’ve never…”
Even after a decade among the sea of buildings, he’d never get used to city-folk. “Let me guess, you’ve only ridden in carriages, not astride a horse.”
Shame lit in her eyes, and his face softened. “Come on, princess. I’ll be right behind you.”
She froze, her eyes widening as she took a step back.
Guilt instantly struck him. “I’m sorry, miss. Ah…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I won’t call you princess again. That wasn’t very nice.”
Her shoulders relaxed. “Okay, but if I fall off…”
“You’ll send your lover after me?” Why couldn’t he control his own words? All manners had left his mind. His mother would have been ashamed. So what if she was the prince’s mistress? She could still use a friend.
In truth, the prince could get her out of trouble with the guards, but Dell didn’t say that. He wasn’t ready to let her go back to her life yet.
He set his hands on her slim waist and lifted her onto the horse. Horse-Ian took a step back and Len yelped.
“Hey,” Dell cooed to the beast. “Shhh… she’s a friend.” The horse glared at him as if saying But what are you?
Dell swung up behind Len and kicked the horse’s flanks. They left the barn to no sign of pursuit—just as he’d thought. He should have ridden toward the palace to return Len to her rightful place.
He should have done a lot of things.
Instead, he gripped her tighter. “We can’t let them find us until this blows over. My brother has a long reach.”
Only part true.
“I…” Len sputtered. “I need… to get back. They’ll be looking for me.” She seemed to hesitate for a moment. “But I can’t. Not yet. Go.”
Relieved he didn’t have to deliver her home quite yet, Dell kicked the horse, and they took off through the deserted streets of the Madran capital. They had shut everything down for the games. As if a reminder, a twinge of pain stabbed through Dell’s abdomen and he flinched.
“Are you okay?” Len asked.
“Fine.” He gritted his teeth.
Normally, he’d head straight for Mari’s shop to see if Corban could ease his pain. But he wanted to feel every bit of what his brother did to him this time.
Dell loved boxing, but fighting Orlo was a different kind of battle and Ian had known that. It was why he’d arranged it.
Hatred for his brothers burned in him. One day, he’d be free of him. He’d be free of all of them.
Dell’s grip on Helena grew weaker by the moment and she feared he’d slip right off the horse.
“We have to get you to Corban,” she said.
“No.” His large hand squeezed her side. “Keep riding.”
The warm breath on the back of her neck sent a chill over her. Helena had never been so close to a man who wasn’t related to her… other than Edmund, but he might as well be a relative.
What was her family thinking now? The princess disappeared from the Madran Games being held in her honor. Soon, the city would be in an uproar looking for her. Quinn would never trust her again after she broke her promise.
But for the first time in her life, she felt like something other than the caged bird she’d been all her life. She wasn’t slinking through the streets on her own as she had before. This time, she rode proudly with a man whose very touch caused the hair on her arms to stand on end.
Dell wasn’t like anyone she’d ever met. While wearing her mask, she’d entertained many of the city’s merchants at the palace. The young men thought much of themselves, always preening and taking great care with their appearance. They’d cared more about being able to say they spent time in the princess’ presence than actually paying her any attention.
It was why the Madran Games intrigued her. Those same men were put into a fight where skill mattered more than appearance. Any man of station in Madra trained in boxing from a young age. But training in your own courtyard differed greatly from facing crowds of common folk who wanted to see you hurt.
Dell… he was quick on his feet, but had been no match for Orlo’s strength—until he saw Ian with her.
Why did he feel the need to protect her?
He still thought she was a prince’s mistress for priest’s sake.
Madra was not like the other kingdoms she heard about from stories. People of differing stations didn’t look out for one another. They didn’t join the army out of some pride for their king and country. Those who fought did so because it was an alternative to an empty belly.
She had no illusions about the people’s loyalty to her father.
The closer to the edge of the city they drew, the farther apart the buildings became. The poorest city folk lived on the outskirts in one room shanties that would blow over the next time a big storm came ashore.
Her brothers would have averted their eyes, but her mother would meet the eye of every person they passed. She lifted her chin and smiled at the first old man they saw.
“Why isn’t he at the games?” she whispered to Dell.
Dell’s voice vibrated against her hair. “I know you live in the palace with your… with the royal family… but not everyone has the luxury of being able to comply every time the king says jump. Take a closer look at him.”
The old man lifted his face to the sun, but it wasn’t his weathered face or vacant
eyes that caught her attention. As he shifted where he sat on the ground, his ripped trouser leg fluttered, twisting over where his right leg should be.
A tiny gasp escaped her.
“You really know nothing of Madra, do you?” Dell’s voice held no judgment, only curiosity.
Helena shrugged as she dug her fingers into the horse’s coarse mane, needing to feel the life underneath her fingers.
She needed to return to the palace before they tore the kingdom apart searching for her, but her chest tightened at the thought.
“Have you ever seen the sea, Len?”
Of course she hadn’t. The only body of water she’d ever laid eyes on was the river that ran the length of the city, leading boats to the open sea between Madra and Bela.
“Len?”
She sighed. “No.”
“Outside the city, there’s a place where the river runs shallow enough to cross. A cove sits nearby where the sea washes ashore. Can I take you there?”
She closed her eyes, needing to say no. Her entire life, she’d obeyed the laws of Madra, following everything the priests told her to do.
Their faces came to her mind. White robes. Permanent sneers. The image changed to that of Kassander one day taking his position among them. Her sweet brother. Would the royal children ever be allowed to have something for themselves?
“Yes,” she answered, realizing if she wanted good in her life, she’d have to take it and live with the consequences as they came.
Dell kicked the horse into a trot and before long, open land stretched before them, rolling and dipping all the way to the mountains in the distance.
Helena scanned the horizon, amazed by the beauty that existed beyond the crowded city. She shifted in the saddle, not even her sore bottom could distract her from the splendor of her kingdom.
This was her family’s land. When her father spoke of his wars preventing invasions by keeping their enemies weak, he was protecting much more than what lay within the palace walls.
For the first time in her life, she understood him.
They passed into a thicket of trees and came upon a wide length of the river. The water ran swiftly toward the city.
