Dell slipped through the arena entrance, lost among the crowd of commoners using this entrance. His family would have used the merchant’s gate, which allowed them to sit in proximity to the king.

He was glad for that because they’d forbidden him to come.

He walked straight for the boxing area, longing to get his chance at a fight. Madran tradition said the princess could choose any man common or merchant, to wed, but everyone knew that wasn’t true and they allowed only those of quality to put their name in the draw.

A man bumped into Dell, jostling him as he rushed forward.

Orlo.

Dell’s fists clenched, and he counted backward in his head. Fighting an unsanctioned fight in the king’s presence would mean imprisonment.

Orlo glanced over his shoulder as if seeing Dell for the first time. “Your minder not here to keep you out of trouble, boy?”

“You don’t want my kind of trouble, Orlo. How is Catjsa?”

The bigger man scowled. “I wouldn’t mind knocking you silly again. Name the place.”

Dell opened his mouth to speak, but Edmund entered his mind. Dammit, he wanted to accept the fight, to be able to hit something.

Why couldn’t he?

Because Edmund had it in his head to save a king who shouldn’t be saved?

Because he was so sure Estevan would be a better ruler than his father?

Dell clenched his teeth, wanting to yell, wanting to go back to being just an unwanted son working himself to death.

Back to the quiet life of a nobody.

Your family is going to overthrow the king, and I need your help.

He wished he could ignore those words. But despite his effort, something inside him trusted Edmund in a way he’d trusted no one before.

He realized he still hadn’t responded to the man who was now looming over him with a question in his eyes.

Dell sighed. “No, Orlo. I’m not going to fight you. Not today.”

Orlo grunted. “Kid finally got some sense.” He turned without another word and lumbered away.

Dell returned to watching the fight before him as the boxers lunged at each other. He started walking again toward the outer ring of the arena where the city’s shopkeepers had set up booths. Agathe sold pastries to those who could pay and gave them to those who couldn’t.

Dell pushed through the crowd of merchants, recognizable in their finer clothes.

Agathe’s haggard face transformed when she saw him, and a smile stretched her lips. “Dell. I didn’t think you’d be attending today.”

Dell shrugged. “I just have to avoid my brothers. My step-mother declined the invitation because she doesn’t want to surround herself with ‘common folk’.”

Agathe shook her head. “That woman…”

“Yeah. Listen, have you seen Edmund? I need to talk to him.”