Osiris knew he had said the wrong thing the moment Isabella's face changed.
It was not even a loud change. She did not scream at him immediately. She did not throw anything. She did not even sit up. Her body was still too weak for that, and she was still wrapped in thick furs with the three tiny newborns moving clumsily near her side. But her eyes, which had been soft and bright only a breath ago, suddenly cooled.
Cyrus felt it too.
His hand, which had been hovering near Liora's tiny horned head, stopped in midair. His pink eyes lifted slowly toward Osiris, and the warmth that had been on his face while watching the babies disappeared so completely that Osiris almost took one step back.
Almost.
He did not, because pride was still pride, and Osiris had a lot of it.
But even he knew he had stepped into something dangerous.
"What?" Osiris asked, though his voice was much smaller than usual. "I did not say they were ugly."
Isabella's eyes narrowed.
That was worse.
