"I asked what bet you made."
Maria looked away, breaking the eye contact. "Why are you making that face? I told you, it's not a big deal. And look he won't be able to win. Most likely he'll just die by her hands." She gestured toward the arena with a quick flick of her wrist, her tone sharpening. "She hasn't even used what the Faerelith family is truly known for yet. You're not seriously expecting he can win over her, are you? Chill."
Maria's mother didn't answer. Her silence carried more weight than any argument could. The resemblance between them in posture, in stubbornness was almost comical, though neither would ever admit it.
Far above, in the Imperial Chamber, Celestia leaned forward in her seat. The golden runes inside her irises shifted and turned, so small and intricate they were almost invisible, flickering in response to the scene unfolding below.
