Chapter 185: I don’t like her either
Cyrus blinked, confused. His fingers curled around the edge of the bowl as if gripping it would somehow anchor him to her decision. "But—" he began, tone gentle, searching her face for some sliver of understanding.
"No, Cyrus." Isabella’s voice was sharper now, a clear line drawn in the sand. She stepped forward, took the stone bowl from his hands, and placed it back on the nearby slab with a solid thunk. The sound echoed slightly in the quiet space.
She turned to him, eyes steeled. "Stop caring. You have no right to care this much."
That landed harder than she expected. Cyrus didn’t flinch, but his shoulders dropped slightly, his head nodding once, slow and resigned. "Okay," he said quietly, the word barely above a whisper.
His eyes lingered on her face a moment longer before he looked away, his expression unreadable—but something was lost in his gaze. Disappointment maybe. Or something deeper.
Isabella didn’t look at him again. She couldn’t. Her jaw tightened and she swallowed, pushing down the twist in her chest. Instead, she latched onto the first distraction that came to mind.
"Zara," she said suddenly. Her voice broke the silence like a stone tossed into still water. "What kind of black magic was she under?"
Cyrus looked up instantly. Whatever sadness had dulled his expression was gone in an instant, replaced with focused curiosity. He stepped closer, tilting his head as if to listen more carefully.
"I couldn’t tell exactly," he replied, his brows furrowing slightly. "But I could sense it on her. Thick, like a fog. Her mind wasn’t hers when you saw her."