His eyes bore into hers as if speaking some secret language.

“Yes, your Highness?” She stared right back, defiance in her gaze.

She’d called him ‘Stev’. Something didn’t add up.

The prince finally turned to Mari. “Len has duties at the palace that she has evaded. She’s a… servant there. One of my mother’s girls. The queen has asked me to bring her right away.”

Right. The queen wouldn’t send the prince to fetch a servant.

Dell’s eyes flicked between them, his mind putting the pieces together. Edmund hadn’t been protecting her for himself. She wasn’t his mistress, she belonged to the prince.

If the prince knew how much she’d seen of Dell… her rosy cheeks came back into his mind. It didn’t fit. She didn’t seem the type to give herself to the prince. Dell barely knew her, but had thought she was more bull-headed than to be led as the prince was leading her now toward the door, his hands like shackles around her wrists.

“Stev,” she said so softly it was as if she thought Dell and Mari wouldn’t hear. “Please don’t tell him. I—”

He released her and turned to face her. She seemed to shrink into herself. “I won’t tell him. You will.”

Her eyes widened. “No—”

“Come.” He took her by the arm roughly.

“No.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

Dell knew he’d regret his next actions, but everything inside him screamed to protect this girl, this Len.

“The lady said she doesn’t wish to return with you.” He strode forward.

The prince stopped and turned toward him. “This is no business of yours, commoner.”

What would his highness think if he knew Dell was a Tenyson? That he’d just insulted the tip of the spiral. If the Tenyson’s no longer supported the royal family, Madra would be thrown into civil war.

But he kept his mouth shut. The prince narrowed his eyes, taking in Dell’s filthy clothes, the disgust plain on his face.

“I said, Len stays.”

The prince barked out a sharp laugh. “Not on your life, boy.”

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.”