The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 611: Isabella, what did you make? Is it for us? Is it for me? Is it for the babies?
Osiris’s lips curled.
"Understood," he said. "I will make it perfect for you."
He crouched by the fire pit. The flames changed slightly, becoming shorter, thicker, and more even. The log crackling softened.
Cyrus and Kian carefully moved the heated stones to form a small circle. They placed the clay pot in the middle, then covered its sides and lid with the hot stones and some glowing embers. It was like building a small stone oven around the pot.
Zyran added dry leaves and small twigs above, letting them burn just enough to keep the heat constant.
Isabella stepped back and wiped sweat from her forehead, even though the room was cold.
Her heart thumped.
At first, nothing happened.
She could not see inside the pot. Only faint sounds of bubbling came from within, like something thick and shy was slowly changing.
The men tried to look calm.
They leaned on walls, sorted tools, or pretended to poke the fire. However, their eyes always wandered back to the clay pot, then quickly looked away like they were not interested at all.
Isabella folded her arms and tapped her foot.
"If this fails, we are eating porridge," she announced. "Do not complain."
Bubu’s voice floated into her mind.
[Host, calm down. Your calculations are within acceptable limits. According to my baking model, there is a sixty eight percent chance you will not create a new kind of weapon.]
"Very comforting," Isabella replied dryly. "So there is still a big chance I will kill everyone with bad cake."
They waited.
After a while, a thin line of steam escaped from the side of the lid. It carried a strange smell at first, a mix of grain and something eggy.
Then, slowly, the smell changed.
The air grew warm and sweet. The scent of honey rose, mixed with the soft fragrance of heated milk and fruit. The spice she had added became faintly noticeable, wrapping everything in a comforting warmth.
Cyrus straightened unconsciously.
Zyran’s nose twitched so much he looked like a beast about to transform.
Kian, who rarely showed obvious reactions, blinked and looked at the pot with a tiny frown. He did not understand what exactly was happening, but his body told him that whatever was inside, it smelled better than most things he had eaten in his life.
Osiris’s eyes half closed.
"This smells... dangerous," he said softly. "If you feed this to other tribes, they will worship you as a real goddess."
Isabella’s lips curled smugly.
She also inhaled deeply. The smell reminded her of small bakeries from her old world. Winter mornings, warm hands, sweet crumbs, and soft light. For a moment, her nose stung slightly.
Before she could fall into old memories, a voice rang from the entrance.
"What is that smell!"
Ophelia rushed into the fire room like an arrow, almost slipping on the floor. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, and her eyes were wide and sparkling.
Behind her, Shelia walked in at a calmer pace, but her nostrils were clearly working just as hard.
"It smells sweet," Ophelia said, looking around quickly. "And warm. And... sweet. Isabella, what did you make? Is it for us? Is it for me? Is it for the babies?"
Isabella laughed.
"You smelled it from outside?" she asked.
Ophelia puffed her cheeks.
"The whole palace smells like this," she said. "If you eat without me, I will cry until your babies come out with my face."
Shelia gave her a small flick on the forehead.
"Stop talking nonsense," she scolded, but even she could not hide the curiosity in her eyes. "What is inside that pot? It does not smell like roasted meat."
The men all straightened their backs at the same time.
They had been pretending to be cool earlier, as if they did not care. Now that the women arrived and openly expressed curiosity, they suddenly felt uncomfortable.
Cyrus coughed lightly and moved a bit closer to the pot, as if guarding it.
Zyran placed one arm on his knee and tilted his head lazily.
"It is nothing special," he said. "Just something our goddess wanted to play with. If it tastes bad, we will all lie that it is delicious anyway."
Kian said nothing, but his gaze stayed glued to the pot like a silent guard dog.
Osiris poked the fire one more time, making sure the heat slowly lowered. He did not look away from the pot either.
Isabella felt like laughing.
These males. They all wanted to taste it, but their pride refused to let them admit it first. Their shoulders were relaxed, but their fingers were slightly tense. Their eyes brightened every time a new wave of fragrance escaped.
Time crawled by.
Finally, Isabella judged that it had been enough. Any longer and it might burn. She raised a hand.
"Move the stones," she ordered.
Cyrus and Kian quickly obeyed, using long sticks and thick hides to push the hot stones aside. A cloud of steam rose when cold air hit the clay pot.
The smell of cake exploded in the room.
Everyone inhaled at once.
Isabella stepped forward.
"Careful," Cyrus said, reaching out. "It is hot, I will open it."
She hesitated, then allowed him.
Cyrus wrapped his hands in thick animal skin and slowly lifted the lid of the clay pot.
A wave of fragrant steam hit his face. For a moment, his pink eyes even softened further.
Inside, the batter had risen into a soft, golden brown round shape. The surface was slightly cracked. Bits of fruit showed here and there. It was not perfectly smooth like the cakes from her old world, but it was complete. It was real. It looked edible.
More than edible.
Isabella’s heart jumped.
"It worked," she breathed.
Ophelia almost crawled into the pot with her eyes.
"So soft," she whispered. "It looks so soft. What is it, what is it?"
Isabella straightened, feeling very proud.
She put her hands on her hips, trying to look calm even though her own mouth was already watering.
"This," she announced, "is called cake."
Everyone stared as if she had just summoned a divine beast.
"It is still hot," she added. "We need to let it cool a bit before taking it out. If we rush, it might break."
Cyrus carefully set the pot aside in a warmer corner where the air could still move. His movements were extremely gentle, as if he was handling a newborn cub.
The room settled into a strange, hungry silence.
No one left.
No one even pretended to be busy anymore. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚
Even the normally reserved Kian stayed near, arms crossed, eyes serious, as if guarding a precious treasure. Zyran leaned so close that Isabella had to flick his forehead to stop him from breathing on the cake. Osiris casually sat near the pot, but his tail feathers kept twitching.
Ophelia and Shelia sat on low stools, feet tapping.
Bubu’s voice whispered in Isabella’s mind.
[Congratulations, host. You have created Stone Age Cake Version One. Taste test about to begin.]
Isabella licked her lips.
She looked at the slightly cooling cake and felt a surge of satisfaction spread through her chest.
"Finally," she said aloud, clapping her hands once. "We can taste it."
All four males, who had been trying to act calm this whole time, straightened at the same time. Their eyes shone with barely disguised excitement, like a group of giant predators who had just seen prey jump into their laps on its own.
It was so obvious and so cute that Isabella almost burst out laughing.
