“Princess.” Lord Nirol dipped his balding head and offered her one bony hand.

With no other choice before her, she ripped her eyes from her father and stood, taking the lord’s hand.

He gave her a watery sideways smile as he led her onto the crowded dance floor and placed a hand on her waist.

This was what she’d been training for her entire life. The dance lessons. Etiquette classes. Helena was bred to be the perfect princess, the perfect hostess. For this night. The night when grown men twice her age would fight for her hand in marriage, some for their sons and some for themselves.

She searched her mind for something to say.

“Did you enjoy the games?” Lord Nirol asked.

She followed his lead in the dance, never once taking it from him—just as she’d been taught. Let the man lead in all things. It was what a princess did.

And it was utter bull.

Helena bit back everything she wished she could say and nodded demurely. “I enjoyed them very much.”

It was the only acceptable answer. A Madran princess couldn’t admit she found boxing rather barbaric. She’d seen what damage it had done to Dell—multiple times. But the sport was as sacred as anything in their kingdom. She much preferred watching swordplay or practicing with her knives.

Lord Nirol smiled, his yellowed teeth crooked. “I did quite well in my own match.”

She couldn’t remember seeing him fight before leaving the arena, but he was quite small. Something Stev once told her flashed in her mind. A merchant speaks truth when it suits him and lies when it gets him what he wants. What did a merchant want? She’d been naïve enough to ask. Power.

So, she’d give him the perceived power he sought. “I saw your match.” She smiled. “You impressed me, my lord.”

Desire sparked in his narrow eyes. He thought he could gain the power he wanted through her.

“It is a shame you had to leave the games early.” He leaned in closer, hoping for the truth of that night. The king’s guards had combed the city, but never told the people their princess was missing. They’d been told she retired early to conserve her energy for the ball.

Lord Nirol didn’t seem to believe that, but she didn’t answer his questioning gaze. As the music rose to a crescendo, vibrating across her skin, she scanned the waiting crowd, many of whom wanted the very thing Lord Nirol assumed he would soon have.

But Helena had been hidden away her entire life. The people didn’t know her at all. Tonight, every bit of the kingdom’s power rested in her. No matter the ploys her father attempted, in the end, the choice of a husband who would enlarge the Rhodipus grip on Madra was supposed to be hers.