Twenty Three

The grip on his glass became painful. He made his fingers relax. He had already marked her as his prey; that was the only reason for his anger. "No. The bet was for me alone."

"Come now, more interesting for all of us. A side bet to the competition."

Benedict was watching him. Sebastien had to be careful in his handling of this or else Benedict would have a weapon to use against him.

"Benedict is putting up the money for the bet," he said casually. "What does he have to say?"

Benedict tried to hide a grimace at the word "money." Perfect.

"A bet between the two of us; sorry, fellows."

There were a few groans. Timtree looked between them, a knowing look on his face. "Why is that?"

"It‟s for a Grandien heirloom."

The group quieted, a queer tension gripping the space. Sebastien took another drink, flexing his fingers again. He let his empty glass hang between his fingers.

"And what are the terms of this bet?"