"Luca, come here?" Isabella said, her voice soft—too soft. Dangerous soft.
Luca froze, then slowly shook his head, his ears drooping ever so slightly. "I don’t know what I did wrong, but I’m sorry, Isabella," he said, already surrendering like a man on trial without a defense.
A few villagers chuckled.
Isabella narrowed her eyes at him, but she didn’t press. He’d learn. Oh, he’d learn. She was just in too good a mood today to scold anyone—especially not Luca, who looked one apology away from throwing himself into the well.
Besides, she nearly forgot that beastfolk were basically gym rats by default. Even the women could probably lift her with one arm and still sprint uphill. So the fact that the bucket was a little heavier than expected? Not Luca’s fault.
Probably.
She turned back to the older woman who’d asked the question, her tone shifting back to teacher mode.
"This is a bucket," Isabella said, holding it up dramatically like it was a rare artifact and not a sturdy wood-and-vine invention that actually looked functional.
"And this—" she pointed to the sturdy container hanging beside the well, "—is a fetching pail."
The villagers blinked at her like she was summoning arcane magic. Some even leaned forward slightly.
"You take this," she grabbed the pail and let out the quietest grunt as she pulled it up. Good lord, why did everything weigh like betrayal? Still, she smiled like it was no big deal, ignoring the slight tremble in her arms. "You fill it with water from the well like so..." She dunked it with a practiced motion, then lifted it with as much dignity as she could manage. "And you pour it into the bucket."
There. She even added a little flourish.
A small hand shot up from the crowd, and a child’s voice squeaked out, "How do we get more buckets?"
Isabella blinked.
She turned to look at the tiny boy with chubby cheeks and wide eyes and almost melted on the spot. "That’s such a good question, baby!" she cooed, her voice going up two octaves. "What a clever little man!"
The boy looked like he’d been crowned prince.
Straightening, Isabella turned back to the crowd with all the pride of a kindergarten teacher mid-exhibition.
"More males will be expected to come to the palace where they’ll learn how to make their own buckets," she declared. "And not just buckets—no, no, no. I will also be making soaps for you. That’s right. For washing your bodies. Shampoo, conditioner, and even skin creams! You won’t even recognize yourselves in a few weeks."
She paused dramatically, placing one hand over her heart and scanning the village faces.
"I want you to live clean, soft, and good-smelling lives!"
The villagers murmured in awe, some nodding like they’d just witnessed a holy revelation.
Suddenly, someone shouted from the back, "You must be a goddess sent from the heavens if you can do all that!"
Isabella grinned, basking in the compliment like a cat in the sun. "Well..." she said coyly, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I won’t say no to that title."
She turned to Kian, practically glowing. "Can the males come to the palace tomorrow to begin training?"
Kian, still watching her with a strange combination of amusement and disbelief, nodded once. "Yes. They can."
He had expected Isabella to fumble a little—maybe stammer once or twice, or glance at him for reassurance. At the very least, ask for his help. This was her first time addressing the village, after all. And villagers weren’t exactly known for their gentle attention spans.
But no.
She stood before them like she’d been doing it her whole life. Like the crowd was her classroom and she was the headmistress. Her tone was firm, her words sharp and clear, and the way she handled their interruptions? It was almost maternal. She didn’t just instruct them—she guided them. Corrected them. Teased them.
Like a mother with her rowdy children.
And they listened. They actually listened. Beastfolk who wouldn’t even sit still during village gatherings were raising their hands and hanging onto her every word.
It was really something else.
Kian stood off to the side, arms crossed, expression unreadable—but inside, a shift was happening. Something subtle but unmistakable.
He was starting to see her in a different light. Not just the strange, stubborn girl who barged into his territory and demanded to be useful.
She was becoming something... more.
"I expect the men at the palace first thing tomorrow morning," Isabella declared, her tone light but firm. "And the women—" her eyes twinkled as she added, "—I have a surprise for you all too."
Her small, knowing smile stirred up murmurs of curiosity among the crowd. A few of the women exchanged excited glances. Whatever it was, it already sounded better than a day of carving wood.
Just as Isabella turned slightly, ready to dismiss everyone and finally take a break before she passed out from excitement and pretending the bucket wasn’t that heavy, a small hand lifted timidly from the middle of the crowd.
Isabella paused. "Yes, love?" she asked gently, eyes scanning for the speaker.
A young girl stepped forward, her body half-hidden behind an older woman’s skirt. Isabella’s smile faltered only slightly as she took in the girl’s appearance. Her face was covered in irritated, angry bumps—acne so inflamed it looked painful, like her skin had been waging war against her for months.
No one else in the village had skin like that. Beastfolk skin was generally healthy and resilient. This... this was new. Alarming even. And judging by how the girl wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes, Isabella knew this wasn’t just about skin.
She didn’t flinch. She didn’t look away. She simply gave the girl her full attention, nodding for her to speak.
"Will you be able to change me too?" the girl asked in a trembling voice, quiet yet piercing in the stillness that followed.
And it shattered something in Isabella.
The shame, the self-consciousness—the hope buried in that tiny question. It hit Isabella right in the chest. She felt her throat tighten, but she smiled through it.
Her first instinct was to ask, Where are your parents? Why hasn’t anyone done something? But she didn’t.
Instead, she stepped forward and knelt just slightly, so the girl wouldn’t have to look up so far.
"Yes," Isabella said, voice unwavering, eyes locked on hers. "Yes, I will."
The villagers all turned to stare at her again—this time with something more than curiosity. Something like belief. Wonder.
After all... this was the woman who made water appear from the ground. If she could do that, what else could she not do?
They looked at her now like she was a miracle wrapped in a mortal body.