Kian had expected Isabella to get embarrassed as usual and blush while hiding her face, but instead her flustered expression imdiately shifted into confidence.
"Fine then, I’ll co with you," was all she said, and that made Kian pause, his sharp eyes studying her closely.
Because could sobody kindly explain why, whenever Isabella was alone with him, she always turned into a blushing ss, unable to et his gaze for too long—yet now, in front of these young won, she suddenly carried herself like she feared nothing?
It was like seeing the first Isabella he had known. The one who was bold, unshaken, and scared of nothing in this world. The one who had captivated him from the very beginning.
And it amazed him—because clearly, she could not bear to show even the slightest hint of vulnerability before a crowd.
But with him? With him, it was suddenly a whole horror story. He alone could strip away her armor, make her stumble, leave her flustered and defensive. She was an incredible woman, always surprising him in ways he never expected.
He watched her rise gracefully, brushing her palms against her dress as she stood. His hand twitched, aching to grab her wrist and pull her right back down, to kiss her senseless in front of everyone and remind her who she belonged to.
But he knew Isabella. If he dared, she would not let him off easy. Sohow, soway, she would twist it and pin every ounce of bla on him—whether it was his fault or not. If Isabella wanted him guilty, then guilty he would be.
He exhaled slowly, his frustration slipping out in a quiet sigh.
Isabella turned to him then, her fingers absently stroking Glimora’s soft fur as the beast purred in her arms. Her lips curved, her tone playful, her words anything but innocent.
"Do not miss too much, my king. I’ll be back before you know it," she said cheekily, before turning away toward the won, who were staring wide-eyed at the audacity of her tone.
They were shocked—utterly shocked—because in their minds, no one in this world would ever dare speak to the king that way and live to see tomorrow.
"What are you still waiting for?" Isabella asked with a frown, her voice carrying command without even trying. The young won imdiately lowered their heads, shuffling aside to form a path for her.
Isabella didn’t hesitate. She took the opportunity and walked straight through, Glimora stretching lazily in her arms like a queen’s feline companion.
Kian’s lips curved into a smirk as he watched her go, his icy blue eyes burning with sothing far darker than amusent. Day by day, his control around her was slipping, unraveling strand by strand.
And sooner or later, no matter how she fought it, he would make sure Isabella was carrying his cubs.
...
Zyran stood in his room that had been surprisingly transford into sothing less of the beastworld and more of the underworld itself. The walls were darker, lined with strange carvings, shadows curling like they were alive. But no one knew these things even existed in his room, because apparently, he had also created a door for his room. with a key only he possessed—making sure everyone else was locked out.
He stood there, staring at nothing as he pounded over thoughts only he knew, and then suddenly he spoke.
"And how many of these won keep missing as of recent?" Zyran asked, his voice low, still not looking away from whatever it was that held his attention.
From the shadows, a man stepped forward, becoming visible as the darkness peeled back. He was adorned with heavy gold jewelry, his hair braided with care, his eyes painted black. Strange marks and signs etched across his body like warnings.
He bowed slightly before responding. "About over a dozen of them keep missing from various cities and villages. And it is mostly the weaker ones, or the won whose mates suddenly t unfortunate circumstances, that are taken."
Zyran’s fists clenched tightly as he pondered the words. He looked nothing like the shaless man who spent his days teasing Isabella and finding joy in her annoyance. Instead, at this mont, he looked like a man weighed down with responsibility for his people.
He closed his eyes, trying to calm his anger before it consud him. Slowly, he opened them again. For a second, his eyes red glowed dangerously before dimming back to normal. His fists relaxed.
"And how alert are these so-called cities?" he asked coldly. He knew from experience that smaller villages and tribes would fight like rabid beasts to protect their won. But the bigger cities? They barely flinched. They rarely noticed when a woman went out and never returned.
Especially if she wasn’t the daughter of a high-ranking beastman or wasn’t mated to one.
"Most of them don’t seem to realize or care much about it," the man admitted. "Since it is only ever a few won, and they seem to be very good at hiding what they are really doing."
Zyran chuckled darkly at that answer, though there was no humor in his tone. Of course—that was exactly what he had expected. He did not expect the greedy city rulers to care about the lives of their people.
Besides, the won, animals, and even n who kept being taken away... it all worked in their favor sohow. So why would they ever care?
"I hope my people have been given enough resources," Zyran finally spoke again, tilting his head slightly.
"Yes, my prince," the man answered.
"And what about the survivors?" Zyran pressed further.
"They are managing well, my prince," ca the reply.
Zyran nodded, finally impressed. "That’s good. You can leave then."
But the man did not move. He remained rooted in place.
Zyran did not turn to look at him. His voice cut through the air instead. "Speak."
The man imdiately bowed again at the command.
"I think it might be a good idea to go back and make so things clear, my prince—if you plan on staying here longer than usual."
The man’s words hung in the air. Zyran gave only the slightest tilt of his head, enough for his right hand to understand he was no longer needed. Another bow followed before the man lted back into the shadows.
The mont he was gone, Zyran let out a slow sigh and closed his eyes. His face finally relaxed into calm, but his heart carried the weight of a thousand worries.
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