He’d heard Stev call her Len, and it was too close to her real name, to all her secrets, but as she looked into the hazy eyes of the man before her, she didn’t care.

Orlo stalked toward him.

“Be careful, Dell,” she said.

He winked. “Always, darling.” He twisted around to duck the next attack.

Helena should have left right then. She’d gotten the taste of excitement she’d wanted and her family would look for her.

But she couldn’t move as Dell’s knees struck the ground.

Chapter Twelve

Heat radiated up from the sandy arena floor as Orlo drove Dell onto his back.

The loss felt so familiar. Yet, this time, he had a bigger audience. The crowd had chosen to support Orlo since he was one of them. Dell never had been, and now they knew it.

A cheer wound around the arena. “Orlo! Orlo! Orlo!” Only the merchants stayed quiet.

Orlo raised his arms to the crowd, basking in their adoration. He was about to beat the son of the highest merchant in Madra.

“What do we have here?” Ian’s voice pushed all fog from Dell’s mind.

He spared a moment to find his brother and… he noticed her. Dammit, Len! He’d told her that disguise wouldn’t work if anyone looked closely. And Ian had.

The eldest Tenyson had the eyes of a hawk, and they’d targeted Len, the girl Dell still knew too little about.

“No,” he roared as he rolled to his feet, pain slicing through him at the movement.

He ran for Orlo, catching him around his thick waist and driving him into the ground. The momentary shock was all he needed to bring his fist down on the other man’s face.

Ian would not touch Len, but if Dell was to stop it, he had to win this fight first. To end it.

He beat down on Orlo with a ferocity he’d never experienced before, anger rushing through him.

His chest heaved as he shoved himself off the still man.

Orlo raised an arm laboriously.

He conceded.

Shock pierced into Dell. He’d won.

But he didn’t have time to soak in the sound of his name now roaring through the crowd. With every bit of strength he had left, he sprinted toward his brother who had a grip on Len’s arm.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Ian cooed. “I’ll show you a good time.”

“Let me go.” Ice laced her voice.

“I don’t think so.”

Len narrowed her eyes seconds before twisting in his grasp, pulling a knife free of a sheath at her waist, and pointing it at him. She pulled on the bandage around his other arm. It came loose easily and Ian used his supposedly injured arm to slap her.

Dell jumped for them, wrenching his brother back. “Don’t touch her,” he growled.