Villainess is being pampered by her beast husbands-Chapter 387 --

Kaya didn’t move for three long breaths. Only when she was sure his feet were completely still did she ease her grip.

"Down," she said. "Now. Before whatever is holding you up changes its mind."

Veer folded his wings in tight, legs shaking as he sank carefully to his belly on the rock. Once he was flat, Kaya unhooked her hand from his feathers and shifted her arm from around Cutie’s waist to his shoulder, guiding his weight as she slid off.

Her boots hit the ridge. Solid. Cold. No give.

She helped ease Cutie down beside her, propping him with her own body while his head lolled briefly, then settled again.

Only then did she look back at Veer.

His beak was open, tongue working, chest rising and falling too fast. Feathers along his neck were puffed, not for show but because his body was trying to cool itself. Big gliding birds can run hot when forced to flap under heavy load and messy wind; landing with too much speed or too little control can break bones. [2][1]

"You’re done for now," Kaya said, voice cold but not sharp. Just stating the truth. "You try to take off again in this state, we’ll be scraping you off the next rock."

His dark eye rolled to her, tired and annoyed.

"Give me..." His voice came rough. "...a little. Then we go."

"We’ll go when I say we go," she replied. "You got us here. Don’t ruin that by pretending you’re not shaking."

She wasn’t thanking him. But the fact that she wasn’t yelling was almost worse—for him, anyway.

The ridge wind calmed after a few minutes, just enough that the air stopped trying to peel them off the rock.

Kaya stayed where she was, one knee down beside Cutie, watching Veer with a flat face. He lay stretched on the stone in vulture form, wings half‑folded, sides heaving. Each breath lifted his chest in hard, uneven pulls. Feathers along his neck still puffed, his body fighting to cool itself after pushing too heavy, too far. Even wild vultures that can cross countries still need long rests after hard stretches or they crash from sheer exhaustion.[9]

"You’re not moving for a while," Kaya said. Not a suggestion.

His dark eye rolled toward her. He tried to make a sound that was probably meant to be, ’I’m fine’. It came out as a rough, dry croak.

"Exactly," she said. "You sound like you swallowed sand. Stay down."

She turned her focus to Cutie.

He sat slumped where she’d eased him, back against a chunk of broken rock. His head tilted a little to the side, but not at a bad angle. She slid her hand behind his skull and adjusted him a bit, just in case. His skin was still a bit warm under her fingers, but not burning. The ugly cut along his scalp had pulled together more, thin new skin creeping in from the edges. It wasn’t pretty, but it was holding.

"Still breathing," she muttered. "Good job."

His lashes fluttered. For a second, grey eyes showed under them, hazy and soft.

"Kaya...?" he whispered.

"I’m here," she said, voice steady.

He blinked slowly. "You’re... safe," he said, like he just needed to check that one thing. Then his eyes slid shut again, deeper this time, body sagging as real sleep pulled him down.

Kaya watched him for a beat, then nodded once. This time, she let him go.

Her left hand clenched briefly against the stone beside him. The ridge was narrow but not knife‑thin; they had space to sit without dangling over nothing. The drop was still there, though, and so was the long way left to fly.

Only then did she remember the other weight.

She slipped her free hand into her pocket, slow and careful. Her fingers brushed cloth—the small bundle she’d tied earlier, back in that hell of a corridor. She drew it out and cupped it in her palm.

The Sparrow inside was light. Too light. She pressed gently, feeling for any sign of life.

There. The faintest stir. A tiny shift against her skin, like a heartbeat from something the size of her thumb.

"Still alive," she breathed. Not relief, exactly. Just new data.

Under the fabric, he didn’t speak. No smart mouth, no mocking. Maybe he couldn’t. Maybe he was just smart enough to stay quiet while hanging over a cliff in her pocket.

Kaya wrapped him back up tight and slid the bundle into her pocket again, deeper this time, making sure it wouldn’t slip out if she had to move fast.

One Sparrow in her pocket. One Sparrow with the vultures already, high above the reach of tonight’s mess. Two problems, flapping around in bird bodies, and a city full of beasts who had killed for one of them.

Her jaw tightened.

Today proved it. Those bastards in the inn hadn’t come for her. She’d just been in the way. Their real target had been the jackal Sparrow—information, leverage, whatever he carried that made it worth dying in wolf stone.

Which meant she, Cutie, and Veer were flying straight toward the only place that might hold answers: the vultures. Their cliffs. Their leader. The same idiot bird currently sprawled on the rock in front of her.

"How long to your home from here, at a sane speed?" she asked without looking at him.

Veer shifted, feathers rustling. It took him a moment to shape human words through a vulture throat. "Fast flight? Three, four hours," he rasped. "With you two... not fast."

"Seven, then," Kaya said. "If the wind doesn’t turn and you don’t drop us."

He didn’t deny it.

She leaned back against the rock, eyes closing for a second, just to rest the sting. The world behind her lids glowed red for a moment—the hotel corridor, blood, broken bodies, vultures dropping through the ceiling to clean the floor.

She opened them again.

Cutie. Sparrow. Veer. Vultures. Wolves.

Too many moving pieces. Too many people who could die if she guessed wrong.