Because the only thing he was sure of, was that Edmund had his loyalty before even asking for it. He wasn’t even Madran, but he looked out for Dell.

Dell had few people who cared if he survived each night. He had to hold on to the ones who were there.

But, what the hell? Edmund couldn’t just tell him Madra would change forever and not give him any details.

Did Dell want the king overthrown? He knew what most of the common people thought. King Rhodipus’ wars drained the kingdom of everything. Man-power… food. Most had family members off with the army or the mercenaries. Sometimes it was the only way to keep a family fed.

Unless you were the bastard son of a dead merchant who left his family with wealth and power. Then the way to keep fed was cleaning decks and shoveling dung.

Dell wiped his sweaty face on his tunic as he watched Ian continue to kick the stall door.

“You aren’t getting out, you bastard.” He reached into a bag hanging on the stall and procured an apple. Ian snapped at it, and Dell pulled it back. “Someone’s in a bad mood. Now Ian, do I have to teach you some manners?”

He grinned at the thought of his brother having manners of any kind. At least there was still hope for horse-Ian.

“Get your brains scrambled in another fight, lad?” Edmund chuckled from the doorway.

Dell tossed the apple to Ian. The horse caught it in his mouth, and it crunched as he ate it whole.

Dell turned. “Why Edmund, what a nice surprise. I didn’t know you remembered little old me.”

Edmund crossed his arms and didn’t respond.

Dell scanned the woman holding the ambassador’s arm. She wore a hood, concealing her face in shadow, but as she stepped forward, Edmund moved in sync with her as if holding her up, and it gave away her identity.

“Princess.” Dell swept his arm out in an elaborate bow. “Who did you piss off at the palace to get stuck with Edmund for company?”

A muffled laugh came out of the small woman. “I like this boy, Edmund. Can I take him back to Gaule with me?”

“Sorry, Princess. His stepmother might miss the free labor.” Edmund threw the words out as if they were a joke, but Dell winced. It was true. His family wouldn’t allow him to leave because he served them, not because they cared for him.

Princess Camille pushed back her hood, revealing long raven hair and piercing blue eyes. “Your mother owns this manor?” She threw a look at the great house behind her, its columned splendor rising above the squalor of the city at its gates. The Tenyson’s lived outside the merchant sector. Lord Tenyson’s grandfather hadn’t trusted the scheming of merchant families desperate to climb to the top of the spiral.