Isabella’s eyes gleamed with mischief as she tilted her head toward the still-kneeling Luca.
"So, can I keep him?" she asked with an innocent smile, though the way her eyes twinkled made it clear she was anything but.
Kian’s gaze darkened as it shifted back to Luca. The weight of it was enough to make the poor man flinch slightly, bowing his head even lower.
Isabella, ever perceptive, immediately sensed what Kian was about to say next. She wasn’t about to let this moment slip away.
"And no punishments," she cut in smoothly, holding up a hand before Kian could get a word out. "I brought him here myself."
Kian’s lips pressed into a thin line, his expression unreadable. But he paused, and that was already a win in Isabella’s book.
Luca, on the other hand, felt a wave of relief crash over him. He had been so sure his life was hanging by a thread just moments ago. But now? He wasn’t just saved—he had an actual chance.
For the first time, he found himself thinking that Isabella’s sharp tongue and reckless confidence weren’t entirely bad. Maybe—just maybe—she was the only person who could stand up to Kian and survive.
Shelia, standing off to the side, folded her arms with a smirk. She loved this. Watching Isabella handle her brother like this was downright entertaining. But beyond that, a small part of her held hope—if Kian really let Isabella have her way...
It would mean he was changing.
That her cold, detached, impossible-to-please brother was finally showing signs of warmth.
She silently prayed he would agree.
Kian exhaled through his nose, his gaze lingering on Isabella far longer than necessary. Then, finally—
"Fine," he said, his tone completely emotionless.
A beat of silence.
Then—
Isabella squealed.
It wasn’t a quiet, reserved reaction either. No, she full-on bounced on the balls of her feet, hands clapping together in pure delight.
Luca’s jaw nearly dropped. Shelia had to stifle a laugh. And Ophelia? She looked utterly enchanted by Isabella’s excitement.
"You hear that, Luca?" Isabella grinned, nudging him with her foot like he was some stray pup she just adopted. "You’re mine now."
Luca blinked. What?
Kian’s voice cut through her celebration.
"But," he added darkly, making the air feel heavier again, "never take any of my men without permission again."
Isabella’s grin widened. "Wouldn’t dream of it."
She said it so smoothly, so easily, that Shelia knew—that was a lie.
Kian’s jaw flexed, his blue eyes still locked onto Isabella as if daring her to push him further.
Isabella merely rocked back on her heels, completely unbothered.
She won.
And she was going to savor it.
Then she remembered the food!
"Quick, quick, girls! We better eat and clean up because we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow," Isabella announced, clapping her hands as she looked at Shelia and Ophelia.
Then she paused, her gaze flicking toward Kian.
"And you too, my king," she added, her tone just as casual as if she were talking to an old friend instead of a ruthless warrior king. "I know you enjoyed it."
She said it so normally, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Kian, who was just about to take another bite, stopped mid-motion. His blue eyes flickered with amusement, though he didn’t look surprised anymore. He was getting used to this woman and her unfiltered way of speaking.
Still, he exhaled slightly, shaking his head. One day, her mouth would put her in serious trouble.
Meanwhile, Luca knelt there, staring down at his empty bowl at his side feeling utterly forgotten.
"What about me?" he thought bitterly. He had risked his life, crafted all these things, and not even a single acknowledgment?
As if sensing his internal suffering, Isabella turned to him with a raised brow.
"Why are you still kneeling?" she asked. "Get up!"
Hearing her words Luca glanced at Kian for approval.
Kian barely even looked at him. "You may rise."
Luca wasted no time standing, bowing slightly in gratitude. "Thank you, my king."
Satisfied, Isabella immediately got to work, serving each of them a wooden bowl filled with steaming meat, pepper soup, and yam.
Thankfully, the temperature was perfect—no one got burned, which was honestly a miracle considering how things usually went when Isabella was involved.
And so, they ate.
Well, they ate. Isabella, on the other hand, spent a good portion of the meal staring at Kian.
She didn’t even realize she was doing it at first.
But the way he ate? Effortless.
The way he moved? Effortless.
The way he existed? Effortless.
Was it witchcraft?
Her gaze trailed to his sculpted chest, the way the firelight cast shadows over his muscles.
And then there were the tattoos.
No one else in this entire Stone Age world had tattoos.
Except for him.
Well—except for that strange man who had randomly gifted her clothes that one time.
She blinked. Oh.
She hadn’t thought about him in a while.
"I wonder how he’s doing?" she mused.
Then, immediately, she shook her head. Did she really care?
No.
He was simply a blessing from the gods, and that was that.
Her attention snapped back to Kian.
And right at that moment, their eyes met.
Just for a split second.
Kian barely acknowledged her before looking away, like she was nothing special.
Isabella rolled her eyes. Men.
She scooped another piece of yam into her mouth and thought, If I ever invent mirrors, I’m making sure this man stares at himself every morning so he can admire how insufferable he looks. (She loves pretty people/things)
The meal continued, and soon enough, the bowls were empty.
Kian rose to his feet first. "Shelia, we’re leaving."
Shelia pouted slightly but didn’t argue.
Luca, instead of leaving right away, helped clean up—washing the bowls with river water and making sure nothing was left behind.
Once done, he finally gave Isabella a respectful nod before following Kian and Shelia into the darkness.
Now, only Isabella and Ophelia remained.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then, Isabella turned to Ophelia.
And stared.
Hard.
Ophelia blinked. Once. Twice.
Then her round cheeks turned pink.
"W-why are you looking at me like that?" she asked nervously, fidgeting with the edge of her fur-lined garment.
Isabella didn’t answer.
She just kept staring.
Ophelia started sweating.
Was something on her face? Did she do something wrong?
She frantically wiped at her mouth, glancing around.
"D-did I eat too much? Oh no—did I take more meat than I was supposed to?!"
Still, Isabella said nothing.
Ophelia panicked even more.
"I swear, I only had Ten pieces!" she blurted. "Okay—maybe thirteen, but I thought it was ten!"
Isabella finally sighed. "Ophelia."
"Y-yes?"
"You’re overthinking again."
Ophelia’s lips parted.
Then, she pouted.
Isabella smirked.
"Come on," she said, standing up and stretching. "Let’s get some rest before tomorrow. We have a long day ahead."
Ophelia hesitated for a second before nodding, following Isabella toward the hut.
The night was far from over—but for now, peace.