The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 92: Can’t you see that she’s bringing misfortune upon us?

Chapter 92: Chapter 92: Can’t you see that she’s bringing misfortune upon us?

The villagers were still watching.

And Cyrus?

He remained silent, lost in his own world, and Isabella wasn’t sure how to fix that. Not yet.

Zara, however, had no such hesitation. She wasn’t about to let this moment slip no matter what.

If she did, when could she have such beautiful chance again? She was really tired of Isabella and her pride.

She needed her...Gone.

She stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with something dark and self-satisfied. "See? See how she speaks?" Zara practically spat, her arms thrown dramatically in the air. "She’s always like this—always spinning things, always acting like she’s one of us when she’s not! She hasn’t even been here a full two weeks, and look at her! The way she talks, the way she carries herself, the way Kian—" She cut herself off, sucking in a sharp breath, her face twisting before she reined it back into a sneer. "It’s unnatural!"

The murmurs in the crowd grew louder, and Isabella could see a few of the men—especially the ones who had come with Kian—glancing around, uncertain.

"She brought him here," Zara continued, pointing an accusatory finger at Cyrus as if he were some sort of rabid dog. "And what if this is just the beginning? What if this ’brother’ is just the first of many? What if more of these... things start showing up? What then?!"

"Oh, come on," Isabella sighed dramatically, throwing her hands up. "You act like I smuggled a pack of bloodthirsty monsters in my skirt. Do you hear yourself?"

Zara whirled on her. "And you!" she snapped. "You always have an answer for everything, don’t you? You waltz in here, smile your too-perfect smile, bat your too-pretty eyes, and suddenly everyone just—just accepts you?" She gestured wildly at the men, her voice rising. "Are you all really going to let yourselves be fooled just because she looks like some delicate little flower? Have some sense!"

There was a pause, the tension stretched thin in the air.

Then Ophelia, sweet, round-faced Ophelia, stepped forward, wringing her hands together nervously. "Zara... maybe you should stop now," she said, her voice uncertain but kind. "You’re being a little mean. I mean... Isabella hasn’t done anything. And—and if she says Cyrus is her brother, shouldn’t we at least—"

"Ophelia," Zara snapped, rounding on her. "Don’t be stupid."

Ophelia’s eyes widened, her mouth opening and closing like a startled fish. "I—I just meant—"

"You always do this," Zara cut in, voice sharp. "Always trying to make everyone get along like we’re children. We’re not children, Ophelia. This is serious! She could be putting us all in danger, and you want to coddle her?"

Isabella sighed, shaking her head. "Oh, Ophelia, you’re too nice for your own good."

Shelia, standing beside Ophelia, crossed her arms and cocked her hip. "Zara, don’t be mean. You’re just mad because Isabella doesn’t have to try as hard as you do."

The crowd collectively gasped.

Zara’s head snapped toward Shelia so fast Isabella thought she might sprain something. "What did you just say?" she seethed.

Shelia shrugged, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "You heard me."

"Oh, so now you’re on her side too?" Zara’s voice rose, high-pitched and furious. "Are you all blind? She’s a stranger! She’s been here for two weeks, and already she acts like she owns the place! If we let this continue, if we let her continue, we don’t know what’ll happen! She’s already gotten too comfortable, already changing things, already making everyone look at her like she’s—"

She clenched her fists, chest heaving, before whirling back toward the group of men beside Kian.

"You see what’s happening, don’t you?" she demanded. "You must see it! If things go on like this, Isabella will be the one making the decisions. She’ll be the one changing everything! Can’t you see that she’s bringing misfortune upon us?"

One of the men hesitated, his gaze flickering toward Isabella. And that was when Zara really lost it.

"Oh, don’t tell me—" she took a sharp, shaky breath, hands trembling at her sides, "—don’t tell me you’re hesitating because she’s pretty."

Silence.

Zara’s chest rose and fell, her fingers curling into fists. "Is that all it takes?" she hissed. "Golden hair, blue eyes, and suddenly we just forget to question things? Suddenly, we don’t care that she’s strange, that she acts like no one else does, that—"

"Enough."

Kian’s voice was quiet, but it cut through the chaos like a blade. Instantly, the crowd stilled.

Zara, mid-rant, snapped her mouth shut, turning toward him expectantly.

The men looked at him. The women did, too. Even Isabella, despite her usual flair for dramatics, tilted her head in genuine curiosity.

Kian had been silent for most of the argument, his expression unreadable, his presence like a storm cloud waiting to break.

And now—finally—he was going to speak.

But before Kian could even open his mouth, Zara caught it.

That look.

That stupid, soft look he had never given to anyone else. The barely-there warmth in his usually cold, unreadable eyes. The way his sharp expression eased, just a little, whenever he spoke to Isabella—or even about her.

No one else noticed.

But Zara did.

Because she loved him. And that was the worst part.

Because every time Kian looked at her, his eyes didn’t soften. They darkened. Like he despised her very existence.

Something in her snapped.

A loud scoff tore from her lips. Isabella, who had already been preparing for another round of Zara’s nonsense, rolled her eyes.

Then Zara screamed.

Not just any scream.

A full-blown, soul-ripping, what-in-the-possessed-demon-is-this kind of scream.

It made everyone flinch.

Even the beastmen tensed like some unknown supernatural force had just been unleashed into the village.

"Oh, good gracious lord—" Isabella physically recoiled, gripping Ophelia, who had already latched onto her like a terrified baby koala.

And the worst part? Zara didn’t stop.

It went on.

And on.

And on and—

"She’s lost it," Shelia declared, arms folded, an amused smirk dancing on her lips.

Oh, this was beautiful.

This was the moment she had been waiting for.

The sweet, poetic justice of watching Zara—the woman who made her life in the palace unbearable, who nearly made her give up on her brother, who drove her back to their mother in the city—finally breaking apart.

Shelia had suffered under Zara’s schemes.

And now?

Now it was her turn to watch Zara fall apart.

Meanwhile, Isabella was busy trying to gently pry Ophelia off her, but the girl was gripping her like her life depended on it.

What she didn’t notice, though, was Shelia glancing at her.

It wasn’t the usual side-eye or the casual acknowledgment she gave most people.

It was a look filled with something deeper.

Something warm.

Something protective.

Only one person had ever received that look from Shelia before.

Ophelia.

And now, Isabella did too.

One thing was certain—if anything ever happened to Isabella, Shelia would burn this entire world down.

And then she’d find a way to bring her back.

This woman... she had the potential to change lives.

Well, at least her life.

As for the others?

Who cared.