Osiris looked so pitiful that Isabella had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop a laugh from escaping.
His shoulders were hunched, his blonde hair falling around his face like a curtain of misery, and his mouth was pushed into the smallest pout she had ever seen.
"I do not like it here," he repeated, voice softer, as if the village itself might hear him and bully him more.
Isabella folded her arms. "Why not?"
Osiris glared at her suspiciously. "Do not laugh."
"I'm not laughing," Isabella lied, her lips twitching.
"You are," he said immediately. "Your eyes are laughing."
She covered her mouth. "Fine. Sorry. Continue."
Osiris took a deep breath, as if preparing his heart for heartbreak. "The people here stare at me. They whisper. They look like they want to eat me."
"That means they like you," Isabella said flatly.
"I do not want to be liked like food!"
Her shoulders shook from holding back laughter.
