Two guards stepped into the moonlit cave, their faces drawn tight with unease.
Without a word, they dropped to their knees, the sound of their bone ornaments and leather skirts rustling against the stone floor echoing through the suddenly quiet cave.
Isabella blinked. The atmosphere shifted so fast it was almost disorienting. A second ago, she'd been dramatically leaning against Kian, basking in her own beauty, but now—
She raised a brow, one hand resting lazily on her hip as she tilted her head. "Oh?" she muttered, her voice laced with curiosity as she looked at the two men, then slowly turned toward Kian, trying to gauge his expression.
Kian's face had returned to stone. No hint of warmth, no sign of the man who'd just caught her like she was some princess from a dream. His shoulders squared, and even the moonlight seemed colder on his skin. A king, through and through.
"Speak," Kian ordered, his voice crisp and commanding.
The temperature in the cave dipped.
