The more she asked, the more the people in the room began to feel that the conversation was... odd.
Most of them did not fully understand where she was leading this. To them, the questions sounded separate, innocent, almost curious.
But the ssenger understood.
And that was enough to make a faint coldness gather at the base of his spine.
This woman knew sothing.
Maybe not everything.
But enough.
The worst part was that she never sounded like she was accusing him directly. She sounded like a woman lazily turning over stones, as if she had all day and no real urgency.
That made it harder to defend against.
Because how did one react strongly to gentle curiosity without exposing oneself?
The ssenger kept answering. Carefully. Politely. Lying where needed.
Still, a few truths slipped around the edges because he had to keep the conversation believable.
As Isabella listened, her certainty deepened.
This was not one city’s business.
No.
The sll of it was too large.
Kidnapped won.
Rare beasts hunted and sold.
Males taken too, perhaps for labor, bloodlines, rituals, or worse.
There had to be backbones in each city. People tied together. Networks.
Two cities alone could not sustain sothing this broad without allies or shared interests.
Her eyes cooled slightly.
"What kind of disgusting trade are you all running," she thought.
Then it happened.
The ssenger, perhaps sensing that he needed to redirect the flow, let one detail slip while trying to speak of city value, old rites, and what certain bloodlines were considered useful for.
It sounded almost accidental.
Almost.
"A captured phoenix clan once blessed First City’s high rituals," he said lightly, as if referencing so old matter of prestige. "Naturally, great cities preserve rare resources differently from villages."
The room did not understand at first.
Most of the people present only registered several things.
Captured.
Phoenix clan.
First City.
High rituals.
It sounded grand.
Strange.
Maybe even aningless.
But Isabella saw his eyes.
His eyes were not on her.
They were locked on Osiris.
And Osiris felt it.
Felt it like a blade.
For one terrible second, the whole hall vanished from his senses. He did not hear the brazier. He did not hear the shuffling at the doors. He did not hear Ophelia gasp softly under her breath.
All he heard was the echo of those words crashing against the emptiness he had carried for too long.
Captured phoenix clan.
His family.
His people.
Their disappearance.
The way their traces had turned to ash in every story.
The way no one ever gave him a straight answer.
His chest burned.
His phoenix brand, already unsettled from before, seed to flare with sharp heat beneath his skin.
So this man knew sothing.
Maybe not everything.
Maybe not personally.
But enough.
Enough to look straight at him while saying it.
Enough to imply.
Enough to test.
The next thing Osiris knew, his body had already moved.
He stepped forward with murderous speed, the chair beside him scraping hard against the floor. His face, usually so full of stupid jokes and loud nonsense, had gone frighteningly empty.
The ssenger’s guards reacted at once.
Kian’s body tensed.
Cyrus’s gaze sharpened.
Zyran’s smile vanished completely.
And before Osiris could cross the remaining space and tear the truth out of the man with his own hands, Isabella’s voice rang out.
"Osiris, co back here!"
Her voice was not loud enough to shake the hall, but for so reason it still landed heavily in everyone’s ears.
Perhaps it was because the hall had beco too quiet. Perhaps it was because everyone had already felt that sothing had gone wrong. Or perhaps it was simply because when Isabella called one of her males in that tone, they all knew she was not asking. She was ordering.
Osiris’s body stiffened.
His phoenix blood was already boiling. The hand that had nearly reached the visitor had clenched so tightly that the veins on the back of it stood out.
His eyes, which usually looked so bright and annoying and full of nonsense, now looked frightening in a way that made the guards at the edge of the hall instinctively tighten their grip on their weapons.
To be honest, even Ophelia, who was usually sweet and soft and easily distracted, forgot to blink for a mont.
Shelia also stopped smiling.
Luca’s face lost all trace of ease as he watched Osiris from the side. He had always known this man was strange. Stupid sotis, yes. Shaless always, yes. But also strange. Very strange. A normal person did not react this way over one sentence.
The guards around the hall all exchanged quick looks.
They were confused.
Very confused.
They all knew Osiris’s personality. He joked too much, said stupid things, grumbled all day, and acted like the world owed him respect even when he was the one causing trouble. For soone like him to suddenly lose control in front of outsiders, that ant only one thing.
Sothing was wrong.
Very wrong.
The visitor also noticed all of this, though his face still tried its best to remain calm.
As for the few people in the hall who had a true grasp of the danger, they all felt different things at once.
Cyrus’s heart sank.
He had grown up around city secrets and filthy dealings. He knew how those people spoke.
He knew how they liked to wrap dirty truths in clean words. The mont the visitor ntioned a captured phoenix clan and high rituals, Cyrus had already understood that the man had not said that carelessly.
He said it on purpose.
He had been testing.
Testing Osiris.
Testing the room.
Testing Isabella.
Zyran also understood enough.
He had inside knowledge from places none of these people could even dream of. Even though he usually spent his ti acting shaless and irritating Isabella on purpose, he was not stupid.
The mont Osiris reacted like that, Zyran instantly guessed that these city people likely had sothing to do with the disappearance of Osiris’s clan. Why else would the fool react as if soone had stabbed him in the chest with a blade?
User Comments
0 comments from readers