Young Immortals

Fifteen: Finals

Meet me at the finals. It seems there is much to be discussed.

— A. V.

The coppers spread the news like wildfire. The finals of the tournament are only a few hours later, but when I take my usual seat in the royal box, everyone already knows that I am the copper Silas kissed then tiraded against Madame for. 

When I reach the royal box, I'm expecting the high nobility to gawk at me like an animal at the zoo, but no one is there except for Prince Eldor. My one consolation is that finals will be cancelled soon enough, since Silas is still too injured to fight. 

That is if Aerwyna does not cast me out like a leper first.

"Isobel." Prince Eldor gestures at me from the center of the royal box, drawing even more eyes my way. "Have a seat."

On stilted legs, I do as the crown prince commands, leaving a healthy space on the bench between us. I try not to flinch when Eldor leans forward, giving me his full attention. Under his stare, I am over-conscious of every breath I take. It's bad enough he knows my name.

"How are you?" he says.

It's an innocuous question, which is the fae's favorite method of attack. Put you at ease, then strike while your guard is lowered. "Terrible. I am so sorry for any trouble I caused, Your Highness."

"What trouble? I feel sorry for the trouble my court caused you. The mask business is immoral, to be frank, and I plan on abolishing it once I take the throne. Unfortunately, nothing can be done for the deals that have already been set. How long is yours? Maybe I can give you accommodations once you are free."

"Life, Your Highness. I'm to be buried in copper."

Eldor winces. "Ah... yes, that is most unfortunate."

"So the rumors are true?" Aerwyna stands behind us, holding a gold-plated bowl of grapes. "You and Silas are together?"

She glances between us, her brows slightly pinched. Afterall, the Crown Prince must have a pretty fantastic reason to sit with a copper. That must be why he asked me to sit with him in the first place, to get a feel of his brother's latest fixation. I glance Eldor's way, which he mistakes as asking for approval. 

"I don't care who Silas is with so long as he is happy," he says.

"No," I say quickly.

Aerwyna drops between the two of us, resting the bowl on her knees so we can both reach it. "No? To Silas or the grape?"

"Prince Silas," I say. "You are remarkably casual about this."

She shrugs, popping another grape into her mouth. "The news caught me off guard, no doubt, but I think you two would treat each other well."

"No," I say, even faster than the first denial. And because I cannot give them the whole story, I settle for half-truths. "I was in Prince Silas's debt after he prevented the queen from mistakenly punishing me for theft, so he asked me to help him scare off his latest suitor."

"You mean Madame's daughter?" Aerwyna says, her eyes widening. "Madame, the coppers' overseer?"

"Oh, gods," Eldor mutters under his breath, pinching his brow. "Silas..."

"It's alright," I say. As much as I would enjoy laying into Silas, it's dangerous to push my luck while there are so many pages left to burn. "Prince Silas stopped Madame before she could –"

The trumpets blare, jerking our attention back to the fight. There are two entrances to the arena, each on opposite ends of the amphitheater. A mountain of a man emerges from the entrance reserved for deadly beasts, for he is too big to fit through the fighter's entrance.