The moment Isabella declared that she was "coming for Shelia," she marched straight ahead like a woman possessed, shoulders pinned with determination, her magical map glowing faintly in her hand. The lines on it shifted and rearranged themselves, creating a path that curved in soft blue light toward the upper tiers of the mountain.
Osiris didn't understand that level of resolve.
Mostly because he didn't understand anything.
He stared at her for a long second, watching the way her brows tightened and her lips pressed together in a thin line. Her mood had changed. Sharply. Sudden seriousness. A heaviness beneath her tone.
And quietly, behind her back, Osiris thought,
This person must be really important to her.
He didn't say it out loud.
Of course not.
He wasn't stupid enough to let Isabella know he had functioning emotions.
