"I promise, I am fine. You shouldn’t stress yourself."
Cyrus’s voice was so soft, it practically lted into the air like sugar stirred into tea. Before Isabella could protest, he gently pressed her shoulders and made her sit back down on the fur bedding.
He crouched beside her, his every movent elegant and careful, like he was afraid one wrong motion might startle her...or the little things growing inside her.
His palm slowly moved to her belly. It wasn’t that big yet, but it had definitely rounded. His hand paused there, fingers warm and reverent, like he was touching sothing sacred.
"And you shouldn’t stress them too," he added softly, eyes still on her stomach. "It’s not good to move around too much when you’re pregnant with... snake hatchlings."
Isabella blinked.
Hold on.
She tilted her head, eyes narrowing. "Did you just...did you just lie to so that I wouldn’t try to find out the truth?"
Cyrus’s hand froze.
He slowly looked up, and the mont their eyes t, that sweet, too innocent smile spread across his face.
"No," he said, completely lying through his teeth.
But he wasn’t very good at it, because the corners of his lips were twitching like they were about to betray him at any second.
Isabella gasped and smacked his shoulder lightly. "You! You’re becoming so naughty! You used to be my gentle angel, and now you’re tricking with baby snake stories!"
Cyrus laughed.
Like really laughed.
And it was the kind of laugh that made his shoulders tremble slightly, his eyes crinkle, and his soft red hair bounce just a little.
And Isabella, no matter how dramatic she tried to be, couldn’t help but laugh too.
But the mont faded quickly, and her expression turned serious again.
"Cyrus," she said, placing her hand over his, still resting on her stomach. "I’m being serious. What exactly made you so pale earlier?"
That question landed like a rock in the room.
Cyrus’s smile faltered.
He looked down, and his gaze dropped...no, fell like a leaf in slow motion...to the necklace resting on her chest.
Isabella’s eyes followed his.
Her heart thudded.
Wait.
That necklace...
Her hand instinctively rose to touch the necklace, It had felt warm sotis, but she thought that was just magic stuff, not sothing serious.
"You did sothing to it," she said, voice suddenly sharp. "Didn’t you?"
Cyrus stayed quiet.
Which only confird it.
She sat up straighter, voice rising with every word. "You better start talking, Cyrus. I swear on all the snake hatchlings in my stomach, if you don’t tell what you did—!"
Cyrus panicked. "O-Okay, okay!" He waved his hands as if trying to physically push her fury back into her body. "I’ll tell you! I’m sorry!"
Isabella crossed her arms and gave him a look. That look. The one that made even the wolves outside the palace tuck their tails and go back into the forest.
With a long sigh, Cyrus finally spoke.
"I knew the mountain would be dangerous," he said softly. "And you were going alone, and I... I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t stop thinking about all the things that could happen to you, especially at night, especially when the dark hour begins. So... I used my energy. From my core."
Isabella’s breath hitched.
"You what?"
"I infused it into the necklace," he said, looking guilty but calm, like soone accepting their fate. "Not all at once. Just a little at a ti. Enough to protect you if things ever got too dangerous."
Isabella’s eyes widened.
Her mind raced back to the mountain, to the tis she had noticed the number of dark hour creatures that approached her were reducing greatly. At the ti, she’d chalked it up to luck.
So it wasn’t luck at all?
Even after she’d said those cold things to him and she’d walked away from him with her pride held high.
Even then... he still protected her.
Her throat tightened. "You—! You absolute idiot!" she shouted, tears threatening to blur her vision. "Do you even care about yourself?! Why would you give away your energy for ?! What if sothing happened to you?!"
"But I’m fine now." Cyrus reached out and cupped her face, smiling with that stupid, gentle expression that made her heart ache even more. "You’re here. I’m really fine."
Isabella slapped his chest lightly, but dramatically. "You’re not fine! You were pale and dizzy! And don’t think I didn’t notice how you almost fainted earlier trying to lift that herbal bowl out of the way!"
He blinked. "It was...heavy."
"It was not! It was made of bark!"
He smiled again.
Isabella had had enough.
She tore the necklace from her neck and held it out to him. "Take it back. I don’t want it. If it hurts you, I don’t want it!"
That wiped the smile off his face real fast.
"No!" Cyrus panicked, grabbing the necklace and pressing it back into her hands. "It doesn’t hurt ! I...I chose to do it! It’s not like that!"
"Not like what?" Isabella narrowed her eyes, refusing to take it. "Not like you’re constantly sacrificing yourself without telling ? Not like you’re draining your own core and smiling about it like a lovesick fool?!"
Cyrus looked...tragically adorable.
"I am a lovesick fool," he muttered.
"What?"
"Nothing!"
Isabella buried her face in her hands. "Ugh! You’re always putting yourself on the line for , like...like you’re made of infinite fluff and sparkles and can just pour yourself into everything like a bottomless pot of tea!"
Cyrus tilted his head as he tried to rember that particular word Isabella always used in the past. "That was...um poetic?"
"Don’t change the subject!"
They kept arguing back and forth like that, Cyrus trying to calm her down while she scolded him like a mother catching her toddler sneaking candy...but eventually, she gave in and let him press the necklace gently back around her neck.
His fingers lingered at the clasp just a mont longer than necessary, like he was afraid she’d vanish if he let go.
A soft silence fell between them.
He gave everything without asking for anything in return.
And she...she had yelled at him.
She wanted to cry again.
But she didn’t. Not yet.
Because Cyrus was already dusting his skirt off and walking toward the materials she had laid out earlier.
"I’ll finish preparing everything for Shelia," he said, rolling up his sleeves. "The sooner we go, the sooner she gets better."
Isabella sniffled and wiped at her eyes. "Okay."
Just as she was about to stand and help, the curtain at the entrance fluttered.
Osiris strode in like he owned the stone palace.
His blonde phoenix hair was wild and untied, his loose robe flapping dramatically behind him like he’d summoned a personal windstorm for no reason.
He glanced around once, then raised his voice dramatically.
"Isabella, I have nowhere to sleep."
Cyrus froze.
Isabella blinked.
And Osiris casually dropped a bag on the floor and flopped onto Cyrus’s bedding like he’d just booked a five-star suite.
The silence was so intense, even the herbs stopped boiling.
Isabella stared at him, her voice flat. "Did you just... walk into my room... and claim my bed... because you have nowhere to sleep?"
Osiris sat up and pointed at Cyrus. "He has a warm fire, fresh herbs, and you. Obviously, this is the most comfortable spot in the village."
Cyrus was too stunned to speak.
Isabella stood up and smacked Osiris with a pillow.
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