Chapter 153: Don’t interrupt. You’ll speak when it’s time for questions
Isabella carefully stepped down from Cyrus’ tail with a little wobble—part exhaustion, part dramatics—and made her way toward Kian, brushing nonexistent dust from her skirt like she was preparing for a red carpet stroll. Around her, the villagers, who had previously dispersed like startled chickens, slowly trickled back, peeking around corners and bushes to witness the newest development.
"You’re here," Isabella said, offering Kian a warm smile that managed to look completely genuine despite the swarm of things she was juggling in her head. She gestured toward the well with a sweep of her hand like she was unveiling a grand painting. "It’s done."
Kian looked at her but didn’t respond right away. His expression was unreadable as usual—somewhere between deadpan and mildly impressed, with a hint of permanent suspicion. Instead of answering, he turned and walked over to the well.
Only then did Isabella notice the two men standing beside him.
The first, Garan, practically radiated confidence—or was it delusion? A proud smile stretched across his face the moment Isabella’s eyes landed on him. He tilted his chin upward, every feather on his peacock-tribe hide robe catching the sunlight in just the right way, like he’d practiced this pose in a mirror.
Yes, Isabella was gorgeous. Everyone with working eyes could see that. But Garan, in all his sparkling-feathered glory, was convinced she’d be smitten with him on sight. After all, he was tall, well-groomed, clearly came from a big city, and had cheekbones that could probably slice through melon skin.
Naturally, she would fall at his feet. That was how it always went. Why wouldn’t it happen again? In his head, they were already mid-slow motion love story.
But Isabella... oh, Isabella.
She gave both men a quick once-over. No change in her face. No batting lashes, no stunned silence, no glowing cheeks. Just... calm indifference. She offered a sweet, tight-lipped smile—the kind that screamed: I acknowledge your existence but I could not care less—and then turned right back around and walked off after Kian like the two others weren’t even there.
Garan’s jaw nearly unhinged. His dreams? Crushed. His pride? Pummeled. His peacock feathers? Still shiny but now wilting under the weight of confusion.
Beside him, Euphim, the quiet one with eyes that always looked five steps ahead, finally cracked a smile—small, amused, and utterly satisfied.