A loud clatter sounded from inside. "I’m okay!" she called before sprinting back out with the hide clutched in both hands like a prize.
"I haven’t even—Ophelia!" Isabella started to scold, but the girl was already halfway to the river behind the hut, hair flying and slippers forgotten.
Isabella sighed deeply, muttering sothing under her breath as she rubbed her temple.
"Why do I bother..."
The wind carried the faint sound of a splash, followed by a long, dramatic sigh of delight.
Isabella smiled despite herself and turned back to where Luca stood quietly nearby, arms crossed, eyes thoughtful.
She tilted her head at him and asked casually, "So, Luca... how long have you been working at the palace?"
The question had caught him off guard.
Luca blinked, slightly startled, expecting Isabella to hand him a share of the soap like she did for Ophelia. Instead, here she was—with that curious glint in her eyes—asking questions that felt more loaded than they seed.
Still, he didn’t protest. He gave a quiet shrug, his tone straightforward. "For a few years now."
Isabella narrowed her eyes a bit, lips tugging into sothing close to a smirk. That wasn’t enough.
"Like how long? How old was Shelia when you started working here?" Her voice was smooth, innocent even, but there was sothing else tucked beneath it.
Luca didn’t notice. At the ntion of Shelia, a small, fond smile pulled at his lips. "Oh, Shelia was pretty young when she arrived at the palace..."
Isabella’s stirring hand paused in the cauldron.
"She’s still young, I an," Luca continued, chuckling softly, not catching her reaction. "She’d just co of age back then—"
"Wait." Isabella turned to him sharply, brows creased. "You an Shelia wasn’t here when Kian started this village?"
Luca nodded. "Yeah, she wasn’t. She arrived a few years after I started working."
That made Isabella’s brain itch. She tilted her head slightly, squinting at him. "Oooookey?"
Luca glanced at her, sensing sothing shift.
"I have questions," Isabella added bluntly, then looked him dead in the eye. "How did Kian build this village from scratch? How did you end up working for him? Why wasn’t Shelia with him from the start? How old was she when she ca here? How long after the village was built before—"
She stopped mid-sentence, surprised by the gentle weight of Luca’s hands on her shoulders.
He was facing her directly now. His expression was calm, honest. "I don’t know everything, Isabella. My knowledge is limited."
There was no irritation in his voice. Just fact.
Isabella cleared her throat and stepped back, a little flustered. "I was just curious, okay," she muttered, tapping the edge of the cauldron unnecessarily like it would help her regain balance.
After a brief pause, she said, "Answer what you can."
Luca nodded, arms folding loosely. "I don’t know how Kian built the village from scratch. But I do rember when I got here—six years ago—it had already been four years since Kian started the lion tribe."
He leaned slightly against a wooden beam nearby, the golden light of the setting sun catching in his gray-blue eyes.
"People were saying he took in a lot of refugees at the ti. Gave them food, safety, shelter. Even though lions dominated this area, they were surprisingly open to other beasts. That’s how I ended up here. I’m a wolf."
Isabella blinked. She’d forgotten that part.
"I was a lone wolf for a long ti. Got into a bad fight—almost didn’t make it. Kian found , dragged back to the palace, patched up. I owed him my life after that. So I pledged loyalty. Joined his guards. Found a family."
He smiled faintly. "That’s when Shelia ca. A year later. She was just thirteen."
Isabella choked on air.
Thirteen?!
She managed not to cough too dramatically, keeping her face neutral even though her mind was reeling. Of course... beast people. Different world. Different rules.
She blinked it off and turned her attention back to Luca.
"I don’t know why she wasn’t here from the beginning," he added softly. "All I know is, she suddenly showed up one day, and from then on... she stayed with Kian."
Isabella noticed it again—his smile. It softened every ti he said Shelia’s na.
’He really does like her’, she thought, eyes narrowing just slightly, but with amusent.
Before Isabella could launch her second round of interrogation, footsteps crunched across the dirt behind her—
Beam.
There stood Ophelia, glowing like the sun after a long night. She’d changed into a fresh, pale hide dress that hugged her fra in the gentlest way, tied at her waist with a braided cord. Her hair was swept into a loose, sleepy bun, a few wisps of soft strands falling over her cheeks. And her smile—gods, her smile could bring a tiger warrior to his knees.
Isabella’s heart did a little cartwheel in her chest.
Crap. She’s too cute. Arrest her.
"Damn, what is that scent?!" Isabella whistled, flashing a grin as Ophelia skipped closer. She wasn’t exaggerating either. Her hut had practically transford into a high-end spa.
She’d only tested the soap in a corner of the cauldron earlier, just a cautious drizzle to see if the mix worked. The scent had been faint then. Warm, creamy, faintly floral with a touch of honey and sothing fresh—like spring water running over mossy stones. But now?
Now that Ophelia had scrubbed herself head to toe in it?
It was everywhere.
It wasn’t just on her—it was her. The scent curled through the hut and floated out the door like an enchanted cloud, wrapping around everything it touched. It was gentle, seductive, and stupidly addictive.
"Hehe," Ophelia giggled, cheeks pink with delight. She held the mini gourd tightly in both hands like a prized treasure, lifting it proudly toward Isabella like she was offering a sacred relic. "Thank you! This is amazing!"
Isabella almost burst into hearts and sparkles. She’s so soft. So clean. So squishable.
She had to physically stop herself from hugging Ophelia then and there. How long had it been since soone near her slled like anything other than dust, blood, or beast musk? Her soul ascended for a second.
"Luca," she nudged the stunned wolf beside her. "Say sothing."
Silence.
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