Chapter 385: Chapter 385: You didn’t even smile when you said it. You looked dead serious! I nearly fainted!
For a heartbeat, Isabella couldn’t even breathe.
Had she really just heard Cyrus—sweet, gentle Cyrus—say that?
Her eyes went wide, her mouth falling open. Of all the things she’d expected him to do tonight, calmly offering to fight for her in front of the entire village was not one of them.
"If this is what you want, Isabella, then I’ll fight for you."
His words rang in her ears.
If this is what you want.
What did that even mean?! Did she look like she wanted them to fight? Did she look like she was standing here daydreaming about claws and blood and bones cracking under fists?
She couldn’t even imagine it. The brutality of it. The carnage.
Her stomach lurched at the thought.
Her gaze darted between them—Cyrus, calm as ever, Kian standing rigid beside her, and Zyran with that smug curve of his lips that spelled nothing but trouble.
And that was what made it worse. The fact Cyrus had asked with a straight face. No hesitation. No humor. Just calmly dropping a bomb into her lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Oh Moon Mother, she was going to faint.
Her mind whirled back to that night—the night she had seen Zyran kill with her own eyes. Men dropping to the ground with nothing more than a flick of his wrist, while Kian and Cyrus had actually struggled against their enemies.
And she wasn’t saying Kian was weak—he was their king, after all. And she wasn’t saying Cyrus was weak either—he was brilliant in his own right.
But compared to Zyran?
Hell. Nah.
The man was a monster. A shameless, beautiful, terrifying monster. And the thought that maybe—just maybe—this was all part of his plan again made her blood run cold.
Maybe he saw this as the perfect opportunity. A duel, staged in front of the entire village. A convenient excuse to rip Kian and Cyrus to shreds while everyone cheered.
Her head snapped toward him, her eyes narrowing into daggers.
Zyran’s grin widened immediately. "Why are you staring at me like that?" he asked, feigning innocence. "I’m not the one who asked the question."
Isabella’s nostrils flared. "Oh, Zyran," she hissed, her voice low and full of venom. "I’m going to kill you."
The villagers collectively gasped.
Zyran threw his hands up dramatically. "Please, someone hold her back!" he cried, his voice ringing with mock fear. "Don’t let her loose! I value my life too much!"
A ripple of laughter rolled through the crowd. A few brave souls even clapped their hands over their mouths, trying to stifle giggles.
Isabella bristled, ready to lunge at him, consequences be damned.
But before she could take a single step, another voice finally cut through the madness.
"Enough."
The single word froze the entire square.
Kian’s voice was calm, cold, commanding. The kind of voice that could silence a hundred men with a single syllable.
"Tonight is for celebration," he said, his gaze sweeping over the villagers. "Not for petty rivalries. Not for duels."
The crowd bowed their heads instantly, murmuring apologies.
Even Zyran fell quiet, though the glint in his eye suggested he was still enjoying every second of this chaos.
Kian turned slightly, his hand brushing Isabella’s arm, a silent reassurance. "The Full Moon Festival will not be ruined by this foolishness."
And just like that, the tension snapped.
Villagers began to disperse, the whispers fading into new laughter and chatter. Music struck up again. The drums resumed, voices rising in song, children darting between the adults with renewed energy.
It was as though nothing had happened. As though the idea of a duel for her hand hadn’t nearly set the square on fire.
But Isabella knew better.
She stayed rooted in place, her heart still racing, her gaze still darting between the three men who had somehow managed to turn her night of fun into absolute madness.
Zyran had wandered off, still laughing under his breath. Kian remained nearby, cold and immovable, his eyes occasionally flicking her way as though daring her to speak against his decree.
And Cyrus...
Cyrus returned to her side, slipping into place as though nothing had changed at all. His calm smile was back, gentle and warm, like the bombshell he’d dropped moments earlier had never happened.
Isabella turned her head slowly, locking eyes with him.
Her glare could have melted steel.
Isabella didn’t waste a second.
The moment Cyrus was close enough, she jabbed a finger at his chest. "You. What was that back there? A duel? Really, Cyrus? Do I look like I want three grown men clawing each other’s eyes out in the middle of a festival?"
Cyrus didn’t flinch. He just tilted his head slightly, listening.
Isabella scoffed, throwing her hands up. "Oh yes, that’s exactly what I want. To spend my night watching you all bleed all over the food and trample the decorations. Brilliant idea. Perfect festival entertainment! Should we sell tickets too?"
Cyrus’s lips curved faintly, but he stayed silent.
"And don’t even get me started on Zyran," Isabella continued, stomping off through the square, Cyrus following obediently behind her. "That man lives to cause problems. Do you know what would’ve happened if Kian hadn’t spoken up? I’d be planning three funerals right now! Three! And guess who would get blamed? Me!"
Her voice pitched high with indignation as she ranted, weaving between villagers. People chuckled quietly as she passed, amused by the sight of their Lady scolding the calmest man alive like an unruly child.
"And you—" Isabella spun mid-step to glare at him again. "You didn’t even smile when you said it. You looked dead serious! I nearly fainted!"
Cyrus simply nodded, expression soft, letting her vent.
"Unbelievable," she muttered, storming ahead again, still waving her hands as she scolded. "Absolutely unbelievable."
And like the good boy he was, Cyrus just followed, silent, steady, and unshaken, as though being roasted alive by Isabella was the most natural thing in the world.