Isabella almost wanted to strangle something.

By the time the conversation ended, her expression had gone through too many changes in too little time. At first she had looked shocked, then offended, then angry, then deeply miserable in that special way only a person robbed by invisible forces could look.

Zyran had watched every bit of it.

Finally, he asked, "Why do you always do that?"

Isabella blinked and looked at him. "Do what?"

He made a vague motion with one hand near his head. "That thing. Going quiet, staring at nothing, making five different faces in one breath, and occasionally looking like you are arguing with yourself."

She looked at him for one long second.

Then she answered very calmly, "It’s because I’m insane."

Zyran did not argue.

That part made it worse.

Usually he would say something shameless or irritating, but this time he only nodded very slightly, as if accepting that answer cost him nothing at all.

Isabella stared at him.

Then she said, "You are supposed to disagree."

Zyran looked at her with lazy honesty. "Why? It sounds believable."

She clicked her tongue and looked away. "I hate you."

"That is a little harsh after I sat here being sweet."

"You were creepy, not sweet."

"That wound is still open," he said, placing a hand over his chest.

Before she could answer that, the door opened, and Cyrus came back in carrying food.

The warm smell reached the room first.

Then he stepped in properly, and Isabella’s mood instantly lifted a little because whatever else was wrong with her life, good food still had power. Cyrus had made something warm and thick and fragrant, the kind of food that looked like it would stay in the stomach and tell the whole body to calm down for a while. There was broth, soft meat, and a little of the kind of herb mixture he knew she liked when she was feeling weak.

The moment he saw that she was awake and sitting better, some of the tension in his face eased a little.

He came over at once and sat near her again, placing the bowl carefully before her and adjusting the furs around her first because apparently he still believed she might be cold even while sweating and glaring at people.

"Eat," he said softly.

Isabella looked at the food, then at him, then back at the food.

Life really was good sometimes.

She took the bowl.

The first taste made her body feel warmer almost at once, and because she had already been feeling hungry beneath the strangeness, she quickly started eating with much more peace than before.

Cyrus watched her like this was the most important thing in the world.

Zyran, seeing that, muttered, "If you stare any harder, the food will blush."

Cyrus ignored him.

Isabella, however, nearly laughed into the bowl.

For a little while after that, the room grew quieter in a much better way. The food settled in her stomach, the ache in her head seemed farther away, and even the strange heavy pressure in her body eased enough that she could breathe without feeling like her insides were planning something behind her back.

Then the door burst open.

Kian came in looking almost crazy.

That alone was enough to make Isabella stop mid-bite.

This was because Kian rarely ever looked openly panicked. Angry, yes. Cold, always. Murderous, naturally. But panicked? That was so rare that the moment she saw his face, even she felt alarmed.

"What happened?" she asked at once.

Kian was already at her side in two long steps, his white hair still slightly disturbed from how fast he had moved, his blue eyes dark and sharp and fixed fully on her body as if checking whether she was in one piece.

"I thought you were giving birth," he said.

The words came out too fast and too hard, like he had run all the way here with them pressing at his throat.

Isabella: "..."

Then she looked at him, then at Cyrus, then back at Kian again.

"No, I’m not."

Kian stared at her.

His breathing was not even yet.

That was how fast he had come.

The sight was so strange that Isabella almost forgot to be suspicious and became amused instead.

So she slowly turned her head toward Cyrus and narrowed her eyes.

"What did you tell him?"

Cyrus looked genuinely innocent for one second.

A dangerous thing.

Then he said, "I just told him you would be giving birth soon."

Isabella stared.

"Soon?"

"Yes."

She narrowed her eyes more. "Are you sure you added soon?"

Cyrus nodded without hesitation. "Yes."

Zyran, still nearby, looked between the two of them and then at Kian, whose face still had not fully recovered from whatever violent thoughts had driven him here, and a smile immediately began pulling at his mouth.

It was impossible to stop.

Because really.

Kian, the cold lion king who looked at problems the way cliffs looked at rain, had burst into the room like a man whose soul had already left his body.

That was too funny.

Even Isabella started laughing.

Not loudly, because she still felt tired, but enough.

And once she started, the whole thing became even funnier, because Kian clearly realized how he must have looked and his expression immediately darkened in that embarrassed, annoyed way he only ever showed around her.

"I came because he spoke badly," Kian said.

Cyrus actually had the nerve to look offended. "I did not."

"You did."

"I said soon."

"You sounded urgent."

"It was urgent."

Isabella laughed again and held her stomach. "Oh my God. Look at your face."

Kian looked at her and then away at once, which only proved she was right.

Zyran gave up and laughed properly this time. "He really thought the children were coming right this second."

Cyrus, instead of helping, said quietly, "He ran."

That made Isabella laugh harder.

Kian turned to him with the coldest stare of the morning. "Do you want to die?"

"No," Cyrus answered honestly.

Then, because he was still Cyrus, he immediately looked back at Isabella and moved the bowl closer again in case she spilled while laughing.

That tiny movement somehow made the whole scene worse in the best way.

Isabella took another breath, tried to calm down, looked up at Kian’s still not fully steady face, and then lost it again.

And for that one small stretch of time, with warm food in her hands, Zyran laughing at Kian, Cyrus pretending he had done nothing wrong, and Kian looking like he wanted to strangle all of them one by one, the room felt almost normal again.