Dell bristled at the term ‘boy’ but now was not the time to argue with an arrogant prince. This time, they were on the same side.

Coughing the last bit of smoke from his lungs, Dell shouldered the door aside and charged into the back hall, normally used only by those serving the royal family.

He leaped at the still form of a young girl in Rhodipus livery, her light hair circling her head like a ring of light.

Rebels fought those servants who took up their king’s name. Royal soldiers fought royal guards.

Stev jumped into the melee without a second thought, swinging his long sword at those he could hack his way through.

“It’s the prince,” someone yelled. Dell didn’t know which side recognized the prince first, but it was a galvanizing call. Rebels wanted the reward they’d receive for capturing the true heir and delivering him to the pretender. Loyalists cleaved to the Rhodipus line as if Madra would fall apart without them.

Maybe it would.

Or maybe their demise would finally allow Madra to flourish.

Dell didn’t care. The rebels stood in the way of him finding the princess. Bemus appeared among the fray with the first signs of true life Dell had seen from the man who’d lost so much. He parried and kicked one leg out, using his foot to hook his opponent’s knee and take him down before ramming his sword into the rebel’s belly.

Cries of pain mixed with grunts of effort. Dell advanced to Bemus’ side, blocking an oncoming blow. The force reverberated up his arm as he was locked in a duel of strength with a narrow-eyed opponent.

He pushed the man’s sword away, and it clattered to the ground. Dell lost his grip on his own blade, but didn’t waste a moment as he dove at the rebel, knocking him to the ground.

His fists beat into his opponent’s face with every bit of viciousness he possessed. This was who he was. Not a dueler with fancy swords or formal training. A brawler. A boxer who preferred street fights to the ring.

By the time the man stilled, Dell’s knuckles ran red. As he jumped to his feet to help Stev, a scream ripped through the air, tearing the world in two.

Helena.

Len.

His eyes flicked to Estevan who battled two men. Bemus held his own alongside a squad of royal guards.

“Dell,” Estevan yelled as he twisted to avoid another blow.

Dell met his burning stare. What did he see there? Permission? A plea? An order?

“That’s my sister, Dell.” Desperation. Something he’d never expect from the prince. “Get her out of the palace. Please.”