After dinner, the cave finally went quiet.
The only sounds were the lazy flicker of the fire and the soft little snores coming from Glimora, who had rolled into a ball of fluff on Isabella's lap and fallen asleep mid-chew. The smell of cooked meat still hung in the air, smoky and sweet, mixing with the cool mineral scent of damp stone and the faint floral trace of the Moonpetal Lily she'd sealed earlier.
Isabella stretched her arms above her head and sighed. "Finally. Peace."
The phoenix man, sitting cross-legged a few paces away, was anything but peaceful. His eyes were still glued to her like she was an unsolved riddle.
She ignored him. She'd had enough male nonsense for one day.
From her spatial storage, she pulled out her magical tent — a soft shimmer of gold runes flashed in the air before fabric unfolded itself like a blooming flower. It was large, neat, and honestly gorgeous: the kind of tent that screamed diva who will not rough it.
The man blinked. "What is that?"
