The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 653: Good, Stay away from the kitchen
Isabella looked at him in horror.
"No."
Osiris blinked. "What do you mean no. I am trying to be useful."
"You are trying to poison me."
His face turned dark with offense. "My cooking is not that bad."
"It is exactly that bad," Isabella said immediately. "Do not go near the fire."
"I am fire."
"That is the problem."
The guard at the wall had to bite his lip now.
Osiris looked personally betrayed by the universe. "You are humiliating me in public."
"I am protecting the children in my stomach," Isabella corrected. "There are limits to what they should suffer before birth."
Osiris placed a hand dramatically over his heart. "So cruel."
Then, because he truly was incapable of leaving an argument alone, he added under his breath, "And here I thought pregnant females were supposed to be softer."
Isabella heard him.
Of course she did.
She immediately lifted one hand and pointed at him. "What did you say."
Osiris realized his mistake at once.
"I said," he replied quickly, "that you look very soft and beautiful in those furs."
That was such a shameless save that Isabella nearly choked.
"This man..." she thought. "His mouth really moves faster than his brain."
She glared at him properly now, and Osiris, who usually liked to keep poking until people exploded, finally raised both hands.
"Alright," he said. "I am sorry. I should not bully you when you are already carrying enough weight."
The words were fine.
The problem was that he sounded sincere.
That took some of the fire out of Isabella’s anger, which annoyed her even more because she had been preparing a proper scolding.
Before she could answer, the final streak of suspicious light faded from the sky.
The courtyard grew quiet.
The children had already been dragged back inside by their mothers. The guards returned to staring outward. The wind moved over the walls.
Osiris looked up one last time.
His chest tightened.
He was still not saying everything.
He could not.
Not yet.
Because if he said it out loud, then the shape of it would become real.
And if it was real, then maybe the things hunting old phoenix blood were already closer than he wanted to admit.
He looked away quickly.
"I am going inside," he said.
"Good," Isabella replied. "Stay away from the kitchen."
Osiris huffed and began walking off, muttering something about how his greatness was wasted on barbarians.
Only after he had gone several steps did Bubu’s voice whisper quietly in Isabella’s mind.
[Host.]
Isabella froze slightly. "What."
[There is a long-distance ritual involving phoenix blood being attempted somewhere.]
Her fingers tightened around her cup.
For one brief moment, she looked toward Osiris’s retreating back and understood why his face had changed when he looked at the sky.
So he really had known something.
That stupid bird.
That lying, irritating, dramatic idiot.
Her annoyance rose again, but beneath it was something heavier.
Worry.
The kind she was getting a little too familiar with lately.
Above them, the sky looked normal again, dark and cold and blank.
Too blank.
As if it had just hidden a secret and had no intention of apologizing for it.
...
The morning light in the Lion Tribe was pale and soft, making the snow outside the stone palace look almost clean again.
From the high window, Isabella could see children running along the cleared paths with little animal skin shoes on their feet, their small voices rising into the air like noisy birds.
Some of them chased each other around a pile of chopped wood. Some were trying to roll snow into uneven balls that looked more like lumpy rocks than proper snow beasts. A few older women stood nearby, half watching them and half talking as their hands stayed busy sorting hides and thread.
The village was alive.
That was the first thing Isabella thought every morning these days.
It wasn’t like the way it was, the first day she had stepped feet into it. Not only had they grown in number. But they were also more advanced than most villages around them.
Even in winter, there was smoke rising from cooking fires, laughter in the air, men moving along the walls, women working with purpose, children loud enough to make a person’s head ache. It was messy, warm, and noisy.
It felt like home.
A small smile touched Isabella’s lips as one child slipped on the snow and sat down with a stunned expression, only to get up at once and pretend nothing had happened. Truly, face was important at every age.
She shifted her weight slightly and pressed one hand under her stomach. Her belly had grown so heavy lately that even standing still by the window for too long made her waist ache. She loved her babies, of course she did, but she also felt very strongly that they were little bullies. Cute little bullies, but bullies all the same.
Just as she was wondering whether she should sit down before her back started a full rebellion, she heard quiet footsteps behind her.
They were soft footsteps, but they definitely weren’t as soft as when Cyrus walked in. She did not even need to turn around and she already knew who it was.
Only one man in this village liked moving around like a sneaky cat while still carrying the energy of someone who wanted to be noticed and praised for it.
Before she could even fully draw in a breath to say, "Who gave you the right," warm arms slid around her from behind.
Zyran.
Of course it was Zyran.
His chest pressed lightly against her back, warm and solid. His chin nearly rested against the top of her head, and his scent, that faint dangerous smell that always clung to him, wrapped around her before his voice even had the chance to.
Isabella’s lips parted, ready to scold him.
However, before she could let out a single word, she felt one of his hands move lower.
Then his palm slid under the heavy curve of her stomach and gently lifted.
Everything in Isabella’s body froze.
Then, almost at once, the full weight dragging at her waist and hips seemed to lessen.
