The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 647: Do not leave me

"Cyrus?" Isabella said, voice tight. "Can you hear me?"

He could.

He could also feel her hand.

She was holding his.

He had not even noticed when that happened.

Cyrus stared at their joined hands and something in his chest cracked open. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

He sat up too quickly, breath shaking, tears still in his eyes, and before Isabella could react, he reached for her.

Not carefully.

Not shyly.

Not the way he usually held himself back.

He reached for her like a drowning person reaching for land.

His arms wrapped around her, his forehead pressing against her shoulder, his whole body tense with the effort of not falling apart completely. His grip was not painful, but it was desperate enough that Isabella immediately went still.

This was the first time.

The first time Cyrus had ever clung to her like this.

Not gently.

Not with quiet affection.

With need.

"Do not leave me," he whispered.

His voice was so raw that Isabella’s heart almost broke on the spot.

For a second, she forgot everything else. The cold. The training ground. The pain in her knees. The fact that several people were probably running toward them right now.

All she could feel was the way Cyrus’s body was trembling against hers.

She did not understand the full weight of those words. She did not know all the blood and grief behind them. But she understood enough.

Slowly, carefully, Isabella lifted one hand and placed it on the back of his head. Her fingers slid into his hair and held there.

"I won’t," she said softly.

It was such a simple answer.

Too simple, really.

Because she did not yet know what it would cost to keep that promise.

Still, Cyrus shuddered against her as if those two words alone had saved him.

By the time Kian, Osiris, and several others arrived, the sight that greeted them stopped them in place.

Their usually quiet Cyrus, who always looked composed and careful, was kneeling in the snow with tears in his eyes, holding Isabella like she was the only solid thing in the world.

And Isabella, though clearly uncomfortable from kneeling with her heavy stomach, was still holding him back without hesitation.

Osiris’s eyes widened so much he almost looked stupid.

Actually, he did look stupid.

"What happened?" he blurted, then instantly lowered his voice when Isabella shot him a sharp look.

Kian stepped forward first. His face was tight, worry and restraint wrestling under his skin. He took in Cyrus’s condition, Isabella’s awkward posture, the water pouch near her knee, and understood enough.

"He collapsed," Isabella said quietly. "He overdid it."

That was the simple version.

The easier version.

Osiris looked scandalized immediately. "I knew it! I knew he was training like a madman! I said it before. Nobody listened to me because apparently I am the village fool now."

Shelia, who had followed behind, crossed her arms. "You are the village fool."

Osiris looked offended. "That is not the point."

Actually, it was exactly the point, but this was not the time.

Kian moved closer and lowered himself slightly. "Can you stand?" he asked Cyrus.

Cyrus had gone quiet again, but his arms still had not fully loosened around Isabella. It was as if letting go right now would bring the vision back.

Isabella felt it clearly.

So before Kian could say anything more, she patted Cyrus’s hair once and spoke in the calmest voice she could manage.

"It’s alright," she said softly. "Nobody is taking me away. You can let go a little. You are crushing my back."

That last sentence was very necessary.

The mood was too heavy otherwise.

Cyrus flinched instantly and pulled back, horror replacing the fragile desperation on his face. "I’m sorry."

Isabella could not help it. Even now, this man was still like this.

She sighed softly. "It’s fine. But if you really break my back, you’ll have to carry me for the rest of winter."

Osiris, who had been hovering uselessly nearby, immediately perked up. "I can carry you."

"No one asked you," Kian and Cyrus said at the same time.

There was a beat of silence.

Then, unexpectedly, Isabella laughed.

The laugh was small, but it broke the tension enough for everyone to breathe again.

Kian stepped in then and helped Cyrus stand, while Shelia and Ophelia carefully helped Isabella up, which was far more difficult than it should have been because Isabella’s belly, her layers of winter clothing, and her pride were all fighting each other at once.

"This is humiliating," Isabella muttered while getting to her feet.

Ophelia tried not to laugh. She failed.

By the time they got back to the palace, word had already started spreading in the village.

Not about Cyrus crying. No one would dare phrase it so badly.

But people were talking.

They were talking about how the village was changing.

How the walls were stronger now.

How the storage sheds were full.

How the women had warm clothes and the children did not starve.

How the Lion village no longer looked poor and vulnerable.

How their king was strong.

How their goddess was beautiful, dangerous, and frighteningly smart.

By the end of that week, a few wandering outsiders who had stopped to trade dried roots and fur bundles left with widened eyes and heavy thoughts.

When they returned to their own homes, they told others the same thing.

"The Lion Tribe is changing."

"Their village is turning into something else."

"Their leader’s mate is dangerous and smart."

That last sentence spread the fastest.

It even reached beyond ordinary villages.

It reached a nearby high-ranking village whose chief had already been feeling irritated by the Lion Tribe’s sudden rise.

And, through the twisting ugly paths of city gossip, it reached another pair of ears as well.

In a dark place far away, where mirrors stayed covered and the air smelled of medicine, rot, and old bitterness, Zara heard the name Isabella again.

And her ruined heart began to burn.

...

Say hello to Zara, because your favorite villain is back!