As a boy, he’d ridden his horse every day. The beast was the only thing of any value he and his mother owned. Since then, he had little opportunity to feel the wind whip through his hair. He swerved around people in the busy streets, passing Agathe’s bakery with only a glance. She wanted him to join with Edmund. Why? He still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact she’d known exactly who his father was.

And she hadn’t cared.

She’d treated him like he truly belonged among the city-folk.

Agathe seemed to trust Edmund.

Trust didn’t come easily to Dell. At all, really.

When he reached the more affluent ambassador’s sector, Dell pulled the reins to slow horse-Ian. There was a representative from each of the five neighboring kingdoms living in the row of grandiose marble homes. No terracotta tiles adorned their roofs. Instead, they comprised an intricate thatching done meticulously. The street was deserted save for a few servants bustling in and out of doors.

This was one of the problems in Madra. The king spent the treasury on two things: The army and impressing his fellow rulers. Instead of increasing food supply for his own people, he showered these foreigners with ornate homes and feasts.

Once again, Dell didn’t know which side he hoped Edmund was on. Did he want the royal family overthrown because their policies were destroying his kingdom? Or did loyalty to one’s king mean more than that?

He steered the horse around to the back of the second house and slid down. They had left the back gate unlatched, and he opened it just wide enough to slide through, guiding the horse in after him.

He entered the courtyard on the other side, unsure what he should do next. His eyes scanned the flowering surroundings. It wasn’t unlike the house his so-called family lived in. Why should he trust Edmund when he didn’t trust them? Wealth was a disease. Those who had it lorded it over the rest and those who didn’t worked their entire lives just for a taste.

That was the way of the city.

Dell longed for the simpler life in the mountain villages. His mother had been all he’d needed. His neighbors had nothing but the land they grew olives and grapes on. And they wanted little else. They hadn’t needed much to be happy, unlike the people who now surrounded him in the city, constantly seeking more.

The heavy oak door that led into the house opened and a thickset man stuck his head out. “Good, you’ve arrived. Leave the horse. The stable boy will deal with him. Come.”

As soon as Dell stepped into the house, he paused. The grandness was left outside, replaced by simple furnishings and little decoration. The wooden floor creaked underneath his feet as he walked into the living area.