He was the best choice to make a connection between king and the merchant council. Dell knew it. Everyone knew it.

But Ian would be the end of the Rhodipus line.

Dell’s carriage rumbled to a stop, and he swallowed past the lump in his throat. His eyes flicked down over his plain clothes and he tried to see what they would see. To him, he still looked like Dell—the Tenyson boy who was kept in the stables as if he were an animal himself.

His breath quickened as the door opened and a white-gloved man in doublet and tails bowed. “Welcome to the palace, my lord.”

Dell hesitated for a moment, glancing around at the opulence of his carriage. They didn’t know who he was, but they could see he was important.

A foreign lord? Maybe they’d assumed he came from Gaule or Cana to attend the grand event. He lifted his chin as he’d seen his brother do a million times before. “Are you going to help me out of this carriage or stand there gawking?” His voice sounded false to his ears, but the servant snapped to attention and extended his hand.

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

Dell took the hand and descended the steps. Another carriage pulled up behind his, and he spared it barely a glance.

The grounds swarmed with servants and guards. As he looked into the man’s face, it struck him how young he was. He must have been even younger than Dell himself.

Dell released him and the boy’s cheeks flushed. “Sir, do you need an escort into the ball?”

Dell scoffed. “Young man, I have been to this palace more times than you’ve celebrated your birth.”

It was a bold lie. Dell would have benefited from the escort, but he passed the servant without another glance as Toren—disguised as the carriage driver—snapped the reins and left to join the lines of others.

A steady stream of people, nobles and commoners alike, made their way through the palace and Dell followed the flow.

The ball had a strict dress code, so only commoners who could afford the levee dress coats were present. Shop keepers. Ship captains. Wine makers.

Dell, even as the son of a merchant, felt out of place.

Massive carved oak doors stood open, revealing the elegant ballroom packed from end to end. In the center, couples glided across the floor, dancing to the lively orchestra music.

The crowd parted as the princess took her place among them, standing opposite Ian. Dell had only ever seen her up close once when they met at the docks, but she’d barely spoken.

A jeweled mask covered everything she must have been feeling as every eye followed her. Ian pulled her close and her lips, the only visible part of her face, tugged down.

He leaned in to whisper into her ear, and her jaw clenched.