The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts

Isabella stared at Kian, blinking like he'd just announced he wanted to braid her hair or read her diary.

"You... want fruits?" she repeated, stunned.

Kian gave a small nod. That was all. Not even the twitch of an eyebrow.

From her arms, Glimora made a dramatic little "hmph" sound and immediately turned her tiny back toward him like a jealous toddler who just got dethroned.

Isabella looked down at her, scandalized. "Glimora!" she whisper-scolded. "That's rude!"

Glimora let out a snuffing sound and tightened her little limbs around Isabella's arm, clinging to her like she was a tree trunk about to float away.

Isabella sighed, trying to pry her off. "Oh no. No, ma'am. You do not get to act like this now."

Glimora turned slightly, side-eyeing Kian from the safety of Isabella's shoulder. Then, very slowly, she reached one hand out and slapped a nearby fruit off the stone slab like a cat who knew exactly what she was doing.

Kian blinked.

Isabella gasped. "Glimora!"

She gently sat her down on the edge of the fur hide and leaned close, lowering her voice to a furious whisper. "I told you to act like a well-behaved mythical creature, not a spoiled princess with food aggression issues. Stop acting like I've never scolded you before."

Glimora gave her a wide-eyed innocent blink and wagged her little tail.

"Oh gods, now you're pretending you don't understand me? I know what you're doing. You little manipulator. You better share, or no cuddles tonight."

Glimora immediately squeaked in protest, her ears drooping as she gave a long, dramatic sigh, flopped onto her back, and covered her face with her hands.

Kian stared down at the small fluffy creature like he was trying to calculate how something that tiny could cause this much drama.

"She's ridiculous," Isabella muttered, brushing her hair back and standing. "Okay, you. Let's go eat before she sets something on fire with her tantrum."

Kian followed her into the hut, and the moment the warm air wrapped around them, the outside world softened.

They settled on the far side, where a soft pile of furs and animal hide formed a kind of corner seat. Isabella plopped down with a theatrical sigh, dragging the gourd of fruits into her lap. "You sit too," she said, motioning him over. "You asked, so no backing out now."

Kian sat beside her, his movements quiet and efficient as always, but Isabella didn't miss the way his knee lightly brushed hers and stayed there—solid, steady, grounding.

She tried not to stare at his hands as he reached into the basket and picked up a fruit.

But of course she did.

Gods. Even the way he peeled fruit was deliberate.

"Here." She offered him a carved wooden plate with a playful smirk. "Put your royal slices here, my king."

Kian gave her a flat look that made her giggle immediately.

"I'm joking, jeez! You know, for someone so silent, your judgmental looks are loud as hell."

He raised a brow, but didn't deny it.

They peeled and sliced in quiet rhythm for a moment, the soft squish of fruit and the occasional pouting squeal from Glimora filling the space. At one point, Isabella leaned too far while reaching for a juicy berry, and Kian instinctively caught her elbow to steady her.

Their eyes met for a brief second. She froze.

Then he let go.

The silence stretched again—but it wasn't uncomfortable. If anything, it was kind of… cozy.

"You know…" Isabella began, popping a fruit into her mouth, "this is weird."

Kian glanced at her.

"I mean, you. Sitting here. Peeling fruit. In my hut. Not giving silent lectures or glowering at people until they disintegrate."

"I don't glower."

"You do. You glower so much it counts as a weapon."

Kian ignored that.

She laughed again, covering her mouth. "But it's fine. You're secretly kind of soft, aren't you? I bet you don't even know how to argue back."

He turned slightly to her, calm as always. "You're loud enough for both of us."

"Wow," Isabella clutched her heart, "I've been insulted in the cutest possible tone."

Kian peeled another fruit and held it up to her.

She blinked. "Is that… for me?"

He said nothing. Just gently waved it closer.

Isabella tilted her head in suspicion. "You sure it's not poisoned?"

Still nothing.

Then, when she leaned forward and bit into it, he finally looked a little amused.

Not a full smile.

But that small twitch of his lip that always made her stomach flip.

"What?" she said, chewing. "Say it. You're impressed by my chewing technique, aren't you?"

Kian said nothing.

But his gaze was focused—like she was a puzzle he wasn't sure he should be solving.

Suddenly, she felt warm.

Not from the hearth.

Not from the food.

But from the way he was watching her like she was something rare and strange and… worth understanding.

She cleared her throat, cheeks pink. "Anyway. I'll pretend you said thank you."

Glimora, very much awake, didn't even pretend to be subtle.

She sat upright, staring at them like a chaperone who had seen one too many forbidden romances unfold under her nose. Her little legs were crossed in front of her, her eyes narrowed to slits of betrayal, and her ears twitched in the most dramatic disapproval Isabella had ever seen.

When Kian handed another peeled fruit to Isabella, Glimora let out a sharp squeak—the kind that could only be translated as: "Really? In front of my salad?"

Isabella paused mid-bite.

"Glimora, what is your problem now?" she asked, exasperated.

The creature slowly turned her head away like a jilted lover and flopped to her side—hard—letting out a groan of complaint. Then, to top it all off, she dragged a fruit closer with one hand and bit into it with passive-aggressive rage.

Kian arched a brow.

"She's mad," Isabella whispered like it was a family scandal. "She thinks I'm cheating on her."

Another loud crunch came from Glimora, who refused to make eye contact but made sure they knew she was listening.

"She's petty," Isabella added.

"She's spoiled," Kian replied calmly.

"Don't let her hear that," Isabella hissed. "She's already holding a grudge for that time I ate the last berry."

At this, Glimora whipped her head around and stared directly at Isabella. Confirmed.

Guilty.

Caught.

Isabella glanced down at her and whispered, "Don't judge me, you spoiled gremlin."

The next few minutes passed with them finishing off the fruit in companionable silence. Kian picked out only the softest pieces. Isabella alternated between chewing and talking too much. And occasionally, their hands bumped—just enough to make her heart skip.

And then—

Just as Isabella leaned back, placing the empty plate aside, Luca pushed aside the hide curtain.

His eyes turned wide with the scene in front of him, but he said nothing and simply kept his thoughts to himself.

"The women are outside," he said breathlessly. "They're waiting."

Isabella blinked.

Kian stood up instantly, his quiet posture shifting into something more alert.

"Oh. Right," Isabella said, standing too. "Time to pass out shampoo and pretend we didn't just have a moment."

Kian said nothing.

But as he reached the entrance first and held it open for her, she caught it—that small flicker in his eyes.

Soft.

Present.

Hers.

And even if she'd never say it out loud, her cheeks definitely said it for her.