The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 651: Do you want to die? Is that your plan?
Osiris also smirked, because if he did not keep acting like his usual shameless self, someone smarter might notice the way his fingers still trembled slightly whenever they brushed his chest.
Unfortunately for him, the village had more than one pair of sharp eyes.
Not far away, Kian was walking along the upper platform of the wall with two guards. He had not heard everything, but he had seen enough. He saw the way Osiris had suddenly stiffened. He saw the split second where the phoenix’s face had gone pale before he started making jokes again.
Kian’s gaze lingered for a moment.
He said nothing.
Because one thing he had learned after Isabella came into their lives was this: every male around her was carrying some kind of trouble. Some troubles were loud. Some were quiet. Some smiled too much. Some never smiled at all.
Osiris fell into the category of smiling too much.
That usually meant something ugly was hiding underneath.
Kian kept walking.
He would watch.
Later that same afternoon, after the wall work had ended and the cold had turned sharper, Isabella was sitting on a thick fur mat in one of the warm side rooms of the stone palace. A low brazier crackled nearby. Her feet were tucked under a blanket, and another thick fur was wrapped around her shoulders and chest, making her look soft, expensive, and very difficult to argue with.
She was also in a bad mood.
Which made her much more dangerous.
Cyrus stood in front of her with the guilty expression of a man who knew very well that he had been caught.
His red hair was tied back loosely, but a few damp strands had fallen against his cheek. Even after washing up, there was still that tiredness around his eyes, the kind that only came from overworking both body and mind. His hands were folded in front of him in a very obedient way, but his smile, that soft little smile he always wore when trying to calm her down, made Isabella even more annoyed.
This man.
He really thought smiling sweetly would erase all his crimes.
"Do you want to kill yourself?" Isabella asked flatly.
Cyrus blinked. "Bella..."
"No," she cut in immediately, raising one hand. "Do not Bella me. Answer the question. Do you want to die? Is that your plan?"
Cyrus’s expression changed at once.
Panic.
Real panic.
His soft smile vanished so quickly it was almost funny. "That is not my plan."
"Then what is your plan?" Isabella asked, narrowing her eyes. "Train until you fall down in the snow and scare me to death? Train until our children come out and immediately ask why their father is stupid?"
Cyrus looked genuinely horrified by that image.
The babies inside Isabella shifted as if agreeing with her, which only made her feel more justified.
"I only wanted to get stronger," he said quickly. "I wanted more control. I did not mean to frighten you."
"Oh, really?" Isabella replied. "So collapsing dramatically in the snow was an accident? You did not do it on purpose to make me run around like a fat chicken in winter?"
Cyrus’s eyes widened slightly.
He wanted to argue that she did not look like any kind of chicken.
He also wanted to argue that if she was any bird, she would be the prettiest one in the world.
He did not say any of that because her expression clearly said he should value his life.
"I am sorry," he said instead, voice soft. "I did not think it would go that far."
"That is because you were not thinking," Isabella said immediately.
Honestly speaking, she had prepared this scolding in her heart from the moment she saw him collapse. Now that he was standing here looking all gentle and guilty, she was almost losing her momentum because he looked too easy to bully.
Still, she stayed strong.
Somebody had to protect the survival of this family from the men in it.
"You keep overtraining," she continued. "You keep pushing and pushing like your body is made of iron. It is not. And if you want to train so hard, then train by my side."
Cyrus blinked. "By your side?"
"Yes," Isabella said seriously. "Massage my feet when they feel hot. Rub my back when it aches. Sit beside me when I am tired and hand me snacks properly. That is also training."
Cyrus stared at her.
For one second, he forgot to breathe.
The room was quiet except for the crackling of the brazier. Then his face slowly turned red, the color climbing all the way to his ears in a way that was extremely satisfying to watch.
Isabella almost smiled.
Almost.
"Why are you blushing?" she demanded. "I am giving serious orders."
"I know," Cyrus said softly, but the red did not leave his face. In fact, it deepened. "I am just... thinking that this training sounds much better."
"There," Isabella said, pointing at him at once. "See? You are finally using your brain."
Cyrus’s lips curved. "Then I will train like that."
"You’d better."
He stepped closer then, kneeling in front of her with such natural softness that Isabella’s heart gave a tiny jump she pretended not to notice. His hands carefully lifted the edge of the blanket around her feet.
"Now?" he asked quietly.
Isabella’s confidence nearly cracked.
This stupid red snake. Why did he always get even gentler when she tried to be stern?
Still, she lifted her chin. "Yes. Since you caused trouble, you will begin your new training now."
Cyrus nodded obediently and placed both hands around one of her feet through the thick socks and fur layers.
His hands were warm.
Very warm.
Isabella immediately relaxed more than she wanted to admit. Her shoulders loosened slightly, and even the babies inside her seemed to calm down.
Cyrus noticed.
That alone made his heart soften so much it hurt.
If this was what she wanted from him, if this was what being useful to her looked like, then honestly speaking, he could stay here forever and never touch another training post again.
He began rubbing gently, careful and patient.
Isabella looked down at him, trying not to smile too much.
"See," she said after a moment, voice smug, "you could have been doing something productive all along."
