The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 670: She is protecting soup quantities like a widow guarding inheritance
The morning had come wrapped in white, and the snow outside made the whole village look softer than it really was, as though the world had decided to cover stone, wood, and trouble with one pretty clean blanket and pretend nothing ugly could possibly happen beneath it.
Inside the dining room, however, everything was warm, lively, and full of smells so good that even the people who had already eaten once kept finding excuses to sit around longer.
The big stone room was filled with the sound of bowls touching the table, warm soup being poured, low voices, and the steady crackle of fire from the hearth.
Thick furs had been spread over the seats, and the windows had been covered well enough to keep the cold out, so anyone sitting inside with a bowl in hand would feel that winter was not so terrible after all.
Especially today.
Because today, Isabella had been in the mood to cook.
That alone was enough to make half the people around her act as though they were attending some sacred event.
She had already made soup first, because she wanted everyone to have something warm in their stomach before she began making dumplings later with flour, meat, and all the little things that would make the filling rich and fragrant.
To be honest, she was already half excited and half hungry thinking about it, which was why she was sitting with a bowl in hand and a soft fur thrown around her shoulders, looking warm, pretty, and pleased with herself.
As expected, the others around her also looked pleased.
Very pleased.
Shelia, especially, looked as though she had forgotten shame somewhere outside in the snow and had not bothered picking it back up.
She was stuffing her face with such determination that Isabella had to stop eating for a moment just to stare.
The girl had one hand on a thick piece of bread, the other around her bowl, and that bowl had barely left her mouth for several breaths.
Her cheeks were full, her eyes were bright, and she looked so deeply committed to food that if someone had told her the world was ending, she probably would have nodded and continued chewing.
Isabella looked at her for one second.
Then another.
Then she laughed.
She really could not help it.
The sight was too ridiculous.
"You look insane," Isabella said, laughter still caught in her voice. "Did the soup insult your ancestors, or are you trying to defeat it personally?"
Shelia swallowed with some effort, then looked up with a face that held absolutely no shame. "It’s good."
"That is obvious," Isabella replied. "I am asking why you are eating like this bowl is going to grow legs and escape."
The poor girl sniffed and went back for another bite almost immediately. "Because if I eat slower, other people will eat more."
For a brief moment, the room went quiet.
Then Zyran laughed first.
He laughed so hard that he actually had to lean back and cover his mouth, because the logic was so honest and so shameless that even he found it wonderful.
Osiris also snorted into his own bowl.
Cyrus lowered his head and smiled that soft, helpless smile of his, the one he always wore whenever someone around Isabella behaved like a fool in a strangely lovable way.
Isabella stared at Shelia with open disbelief.
Then she turned to the others and asked, "Do you all hear this? She is protecting soup quantities like a widow guarding inheritance."
Shelia shrugged, then tore off more bread with complete peace in her heart. "You made it. So obviously everyone wants it."
That answer, unfortunately, was not wrong. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂
Zyran, of course, had been entirely too quiet for several breaths, which in itself should have been enough to make everyone suspicious.
Isabella had only just lowered her spoon after another mouthful when a piece of meat suddenly appeared in front of her lips.
She froze.
Slowly, very slowly, she turned her head.
Zyran sat beside her with the most innocent expression a shameless man could possibly wear, his red eyes curved with amusement as he held the food toward her as though this was the most natural thing in the world.
"Open your mouth," he said lazily. "You cooked, so naturally you should be fed."
Isabella narrowed her eyes at him so hard that any normal person would have felt fear.
Zyran did not.
That black panther only lifted his hand a little higher, looking almost patient, which somehow made him even more annoying.
"I have hands," Isabella said.
"I can see that," Zyran replied. "And yet mine are already helping."
Osiris choked on his soup.
Shelia immediately looked over with bright, nosy eyes, clearly ready to enjoy a show.
Cyrus looked down at his bowl again, but the faint smile near his mouth gave him away completely.
Isabella glared at Zyran for another long moment, as if she were seriously considering whether stabbing him with a spoon would be acceptable in a room full of witnesses.
Then, perhaps because she was hungry, or perhaps because the food smelled too good to waste, she opened her mouth and ate it.
Zyran looked unbearably pleased with himself.
Isabella chewed, swallowed, and muttered, "Do not make that face. You look stupid."
But after that, she kept eating until the warmth in her stomach spread through her whole body, and by the time she finally lowered her bowl, she was full enough that even her annoyance had softened into something lazy and quiet.
Shelia was still eating crazy and Isabella wanted to continue making fun of her, but then she glanced around and noticed someone missing.
Her smile faded slightly.
"Where is Kian?"
Shelia did not even pause eating before answering. "In his room."
Then she dipped the bread into the soup and kept eating like the information she had just dropped carried no importance at all.
Isabella raised a brow. "He did not come out to eat?"
That got Cyrus’s attention immediately.
His expression changed just a little, not enough for others to call it dramatic, but enough for Isabella to see the concern that passed through him.
"He has been busy since early morning," Cyrus said quietly. "I thought he would come once he finished with the reports."
Shelia blew lightly on her soup, then said around another bite, "He’s been in there forever."
Isabella looked toward the direction of Kian’s room, then back at the table, and a tiny crease formed between her brows.
Kian missing one meal was not the end of the world.
Kian missing one of her meals, however, was at least a small offense.
Also, she knew him.
If he had buried himself in work again, then he was very likely sitting there with that cold stubborn face of his, ignoring hunger as if hunger would become frightened and go away.
How annoying.
She set down her bowl and began to rise.
"I’ll bring him some soup."
