Chapter 782: Chapter 783: Do not poison my food with your personality.
"You need to eat too," he said.
"I can eat later."
"No."
Isabella stared at him.
Cyrus had said no.
Directly.
Sternly.
Cyrus, who usually spoke to her like a gentle stream and looked like he would apologize to a fly if he bumped into it, was now looking at her like he would not move on this point.
"I need to cook more for you," he said. "You lost strength. You need warm food. You need something with blood root and strength herbs. You need the broth while it is fresh."
"Cyrus, you look like you are about to collapse."
"I am not the one who just gave birth."
"You are the one I used as a blood bottle."
Zyran made a small sound. "That is one way to describe devotion."
Cyrus ignored him. His eyes stayed on Isabella. "I will cook."
She wanted to argue, but his face was too firm.
And honestly, she was too tired.
"Fine," she muttered.
Cyrus bent and kissed her forehead. "I will be quick."
Zyran immediately straightened. "Can I take his place while he is gone?"
Isabella’s eyes snapped to him.
Zyran smiled with full shamelessness. "Only to keep you company."
"Get out."
"I can help feed you later."
"Get out faster."
His smile widened. He looked happy. Truly happy. It showed in the way his eyes brightened and the way his whole body seemed lighter. Isabella had survived. She was still there. She was still glaring at him. And because she had survived birth, a future he had been waiting for no longer felt impossible.
After she recovered properly and became healthy again, his turn would come.
That thought put him in such a good mood that even Isabella telling him to leave sounded sweet to his ears.
"I will help Cyrus cook," Zyran said.
Isabella gave him a suspicious look. "You?"
"Yes."
"Do not poison my food with your personality."
"I will try."
"That did not sound like a promise."
"It was not."
Cyrus stood slowly. For a moment, his knees almost failed him. He caught himself before anyone else could move, but Zyran saw it.
Cyrus gave Isabella one last look, then left the room.
Zyran followed him.
The room settled again after they were gone.
The attack still sounded outside, but it felt farther away now, partly because everyone in the room was trying very hard to keep Isabella calm. Ophelia and Shelia helped the women arrange the babies. Valen stayed near the door with his back turned slightly, giving Isabella privacy while still remaining close enough to support Ophelia if she needed him.
Then Isabella fed the babies.
It was awkward at first.
Everything hurt. Her arms felt weak. She did not know how to hold three tiny snake babies who did not have the soft round shape she expected from human babies. The older woman guided her gently. She showed her how to support them one by one, how to bring them close, how to help them latch.
The first boy cried and fussed before finally feeding. The second acted offended until Isabella stroked his tiny head. The girl was the quietest, but once she started feeding, she held on with surprising strength.
Isabella watched them with tired wonder.
Her body was exhausted, but something in her chest kept filling and filling until she thought she might cry again. They had almost killed her, yes. She would remind them of that often. But they were so small. So helpless. So completely hers.
After they were fed and settled, Isabella finally looked for Glimora.
The little white beast had been staying nearby in unusual silence. She was no longer glowing as fiercely as before, but she still looked shaken. Her ears were low, and her eyes kept moving between Isabella and the babies like she was trying to understand what had happened and whether she should forgive these tiny creatures for hurting her mama.
"Glimora," Isabella called softly.
The little beast lifted her head at once.
"Come here."
Glimora hesitated.
That hurt Isabella more than she expected.
Usually Glimora came running when Isabella called. Sometimes too fast. Sometimes with stolen food. Sometimes with the face of a beast who had done something wrong and wanted protection anyway. But now she hesitated because she was still scared.
Isabella pushed herself up a little, and Shelia immediately moved forward.
"Do not strain yourself."
"I’m not," Isabella said, though she absolutely was.
Glimora saw her moving and immediately came closer, but she did not jump up. She only stood beside the bed and looked at Isabella with hurt eyes.
Isabella reached down slowly. "Come on. Let mama hold you."
Glimora was not a baby anymore. She was more like a teenage beast now, heavier and longer than before. When Isabella had been heavily pregnant, picking her up had been almost impossible. Now Isabella was no longer carrying three babies in her stomach, but her body was still weak from birth.
Glimora seemed to understand that.
She made herself easy.
She climbed carefully, placing her paws where the furs were thickest. Ophelia moved to help, but Glimora did most of it herself until she could settle against Isabella’s side without pressing on her stomach.
Isabella wrapped one arm around her.
It took effort.
Still, she did it.
"I’m sorry," Isabella whispered into Glimora’s fur. "I scared you."
Glimora made a soft sound.
It was not a growl.
It was a whimper.
The sound made Isabella’s eyes sting again.
"I know," she said. "I know. I did not do it on purpose. I was also scared."
Glimora pressed her head against Isabella’s chest and stayed there. Her body trembled a little. Isabella stroked the soft fur behind her ears, slow and careful, the way Glimora liked.
"Are you mad at me?" Isabella asked.
Glimora turned her face away.
Isabella looked at Shelia. "She is mad."
Shelia’s mouth softened. "She was worried."
"I know," Isabella said quietly.
Glimora peeked at the babies.
Her expression changed immediately.
