Izzy's Arc

Chapter 6 of 7

The ballroom had never felt so loud. Laughter echoed beneath the vaulted ceiling. Crystal glasses clinked together. The orchestra swept into another lively tune as couples stepped effortlessly into the next dance. Mason stood perfectly still. Across the room, the garden doors had already closed behind Isabella. She hadn't looked back. His hand curled into a fist at his side. "It hurts." The words refused to leave him. He hadn't meant— No. That was the problem. He never meant to. A servant carrying a tray nearly brushed his shoulder before apologizing and slipping around him. Mason hardly noticed. For years he'd been able to laugh his way out of almost anything. An awkward silence. An argument. A mistake. A joke here, a grin there, and somehow the world always seemed lighter. Tonight the smile had failed him. "Mason." He didn't turn immediately. Eric stepped beside him, following his gaze toward the garden doors. "Come join me at the top of the stairs so you don't get run over by dancers." Mason forced a crooked smile. “How kind of you to save my toes from uncoordinated dancers." Eric didn't smile back. The silence stretched between them until Mason let out a quiet breath through his nose. "I've made quite a mess of things." "I saw." The agreement caught him off guard. He looked over. "I was expecting encouragement." "You'll get honesty first." A reluctant laugh escaped Mason. "There he is." "There who is?" "The king." Eric's mouth twitched. "I was hoping for the friend." For the first time that evening, the corner of Mason's mouth lifted for real. Only for a moment. It vanished as quickly as it came. "I don't know why I keep doing it." Eric folded his arms. "Doing what?" Mason watched another couple pass across the dance floor. "Saying everything except what I actually mean." He rubbed the back of his neck. "The moment gets too serious and..." He shrugged. "...I ruin it." "You joke." "I joke." "And why?" Mason opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He'd asked himself the same question more times than he cared to admit. Finally, he leaned both hands against the carved stone railing that overlooked the ballroom. "I don't know." Eric stepped beside him. "You do." Mason stared down at the dancers below. Their lives looked so uncomplicated from up here. A dance. A laugh. A future. "I can make her laugh." Eric waited. "But laughter isn't enough." His reflection shimmered in one of the ballroom windows. He barely recognized the man looking back. "I look at her..." His voice caught before he continued. "...and then I look at me." His fingers tightened against the stone. "My father left behind debts I'll be paying for years." He swallowed. "If I don't, they'll become my sister's." The words tasted bitter. "She deserves better than walking into society carrying his failures, she’ll never get a good future that way." Eric said nothing and Mason was grateful. "My mother..." He let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh. "I couldn't tell you where she is tonight." He already knew though; or at least could guess. Some banquet. Some noble gathering. Somewhere that wasn't home. "She's always loved society more than she ever loved staying home." He stared across the ballroom. "I don't remember the last time the house felt... full." The music swelled again. "I kept thinking if I worked hard enough..." He shook his head. "If I fixed enough... paid enough... smiled enough..." His voice faded. "...maybe everything would finally be enough." Eric looked at him for a long moment. "And has it?" Mason laughed quietly. The sound held no joy. "No." Another silence settled between them. Comfortable. Familiar. The kind that only existed between people who had known one another most of their lives. "I love her Eric." The confession slipped out so quietly he wasn't certain he'd spoken aloud. Eric didn't react. "Believe me, I know." Mason closed his eyes. "If she knew everything..." His throat tightened. "The debts, The family; The mess I'm still trying to clean up." He looked down at his hands. "I keep thinking...she deserves someone who doesn't come with broken pieces." Eric rested his forearms on the railing beside him. "You've decided that for her." Mason frowned. "What?" "You've decided who Isabella should marry." "I've done no such thing." "Haven't you?" Eric turned to face him fully. "You've decided it shouldn't be you." Mason looked away. "I don't want her carrying my burdens." "You mean you don't want to risk her saying no." The words landed like a blow. "That's not—" "It is." Mason fell silent. Eric's voice softened. "We aren't children anymore." He glanced toward the ballroom where dancers turned beneath the chandeliers. "You can't keep hiding behind jokes and call it protecting her." Mason swallowed hard. "If she knew..." "Then let her know." "And if she doesn’t want me?" Eric smiled sadly. "Then she'll walk away but you've never even given her the chance to choose." The words settled over Mason like a weight. He thought of Isabella standing in front of him. "You cannot keep saying things like that when I know it is only a joke." "It hurts." All this time he'd convinced himself he was protecting her. But maybe... Maybe he'd only been protecting himself from hearing the answer he feared most. Eric clapped a hand against his shoulder. "If you love her..." Mason looked up. "...then respect her enough to let her decide. I wouldn’t give my now ward to someone I believe would be unsuitable now would I?" Mason breathed a laugh as Eric strode away. The orchestra began another waltz. Guests applauded. Conversation filled the hall once more. Yet none of it reached Mason. For the first time in years, the thought of telling the truth frightened him more than any battle ever could.