Izzy's Arc

Chapter 2 of 7

“You two are going to bring the entire palace down with your noise.” The calm voice from the doorway made them both turn. Queen Elara stood there, graceful and composed, her hands folded neatly before her. Amusement danced in her eyes, though she tried to hide it behind the dignity expected of a queen. “Eric,” she said evenly, “your father wishes to speak with you after dinner. And your tutors are still waiting in the study.” Eric’s entire expression fell. “Tell them I died heroically in the Battle of the Library.” “You’ll die in earnest if you continue avoiding your studies,” Queen Elara replied. Her gaze softened when it moved to Isabella. “And for goodness’ sake, stop throwing things.” Isabella immediately arranged her face into her most innocent expression. “Yes, Aunt Elara.” The queen raised a brow but said nothing more. Eric stuck out his tongue as he passed Isabella on his way out. She answered with an exaggerated bow, and only after the door closed did the library return to its peaceful silence. At least, for a moment. “Tragic ending, is it?” The familiar voice came from the doorway. Isabella looked up. Mason stood there, the sunlight catching in his wind-tousled dark hair. His eyes brightened when they met hers, and despite herself, she felt a smile tug at her lips. “Sir John dies,” she said mournfully. Mason stepped farther into the room and lowered himself into the chair Eric had abandoned. “He was always going to.” “That is not the point.” “Heroic deaths are the only kind that last.” She tilted her head. “You only say that because you think you’ll have one.” “And what makes you think I won’t?” he asked with a wink. Isabella opened her mouth to answer, but no clever response came quickly enough. He had an annoying habit of doing that. Before she could recover, he reached for the chessboard between them. “Rematch?” Her smirk returned. “Only if you are prepared to lose gracefully this time.” “I never lose gracefully.” He admitted with a smirk. The game began. The quiet clicking of chess pieces filled the library as their familiar rhythm returned—small insults, laughter, and accusations of cheating that neither of them ever truly believed. When Isabella captured his bishop with her knight, she leaned back with a victorious grin. “I need to get back at Eric.” Mason glanced up from the board. “For ruining your book?” “For existing,” she said. “But yes, the book too.” His brow lifted. “And what does the great schemer have planned?” Her eyes brightened. She knew exactly how to catch his interest. “We go riding after supper. I challenge him to a race. I win dramatically.” “You mean you could try to win.” “Yes,” she said, lifting her chin. “But this time I intend to make sure he eats dirt.” Mason leaned back, folding his arms behind his head. “Remind me never to cross you.” Isabella looked up at him. For a moment, neither of them spoke. “I won’t make any promises,” she said lightly.