An attacker advanced on Dell, but he ducked away, sprinting toward the entry to the main hall. Smoke no longer clouded his mind or choked his breath. Every pain he’d felt faded away. A new energy chased the exhaustion away.

“I’m coming, Len,” he said, mostly to himself.

He entered the hall cautiously, preparing himself for anything he saw.

Three men stood over a kneeling man and woman. Recognition burned into him as he realized Len and Edmund had their arms tied behind their backs.

Tears made tiny tracks through the blood on Len’s face, but no fear shone in her eyes.

“You’re going to pay for this, Ian,” she growled.

Dell snapped his eyes to the men he hadn’t truly looked at yet. His brother stood in the center of two broad-shouldered rebels. Two dead men and two dead women lay sprawled across the ground.

Dell advanced silently, letting the shadows hide his approach.

Ian laughed as he bent forward, his face only inches from Len’s. “I may not be allowed to kill you, Helena, but Cole didn’t say anything about harming this pretty face.” His fingers trailed down her cheek. “It’s a shame you had to hide it for so long.” His hand inched down her neck and over the bodice of her dress.

She sat impossibly still.

Edmund fought against his restraints. “Don’t touch her.”

Ian straightened. “Shame you care more for her than your precious Camille of Gaule.”

A smirk splashed across the asshole’s face. “Nothing, of course. She is to fulfill the promise of her kingdom. Madra will have a Gaulean princess as queen and the Gaule army as allies. The treaty drawn up makes no mention of which Madran heir she must marry.”

Ian patted the side of Edmund’s face. “Cole will be a better husband to her than Estevan, isn’t that right, Edmund?”

Edmund snapped his teeth, and Ian yanked his hand away with a muttered “rabid dog.”

Dell slid a knife free of his belt, trying to decide how to make his move. He’d be no match against Ian and his men. Estevan and Bemus were still fighting back in the servants’ hall.

Ian gripped Edmund’s hair, forcing his head to the side to expose his neck. He held out his hand and one of his men set a knife upon his palm. Ian took it and pressed the tip to Edmund’s skin just below his ear.

The ambassador didn’t even flinch.

“Neither side trusts you, Edmund of Bela. The king you defend had you beaten in his paranoid quest to find those who would do him harm.”

“I defend no king,” Edmund spat.