Mavis.
The fox sat right there in the seats reserved for Alistair's circle, gaze fixed on him. Zirron wasn't by his side, but Sylene's blood still ran cold.
Calm down. Calm down. He doesn't know. He couldn't...know?
But what was Mavis—peace-loving, gentle Mavis—doing in a place like this? In 2 months Sylene had fought here, Mavis had never once stepped into the ring to watch the fight. And tonight, here he was.
...Did Zirron tell him? Did the noble somehow bail on him and put all the blame... to him??
Heartbeat thumping in eratic beat, after the fight he ran to the sponsor seat but was dumbfounded. Sylene couldn't find Mavis afterward. In the changing room Josephine praised his performance, but her words rolled off his ears. He left the stage restless, uneasy, feeling as though he'd been caught lying. He half-expected Mavis to be waiting for him backstage, arms crossed, ready with questions. But no—nothing.
