"Why disturb me?" Kian finally asked, his tone cold as usual.
The four young women standing before Isabella straightened so fast their spines practically clicked. It was clear how much they respected their king… but it was also very, very clear how much they feared him.
They exchanged panicked looks, their lips twitching, eyes darting to one another like a flock of startled birds.
None of them dared speak.
Instead, they began a frantic silent argument—heads tilting, eyes widening, mouths shaping soundless words.
"You go first!" one mouthed.
"No, you!" another insisted, eyes bulging like she'd rather be eaten alive than speak to Kian.
The third girl gave the tiniest shake of her head, lips forming: "Not me, I'll die."
The fourth, the smallest of the group, looked like she might faint on the spot. She pressed her hands together, muttering silent prayers to the Moon Mother for divine rescue.
