The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts

Zara hit the wall so hard that the sound made everyone’s chest tighten for one second.

Then she dropped to the floor like a sack of bones and blood, and the fresh mouthful of blood that spilled from her lips looked especially ugly against the pale stone. Her shoulders shook, her chest rose and fell in short painful breaths, and for one moment, even she seemed shocked that she was still alive.

Cyrus was still breathing hard.

His great red python tail lashed once against the floor again, and the crack of it echoed through the room like a warning. His pink eyes still looked wrong, too bright and too raw, and the scales along his body looked almost sharper in the firelight. It was obvious to everyone there that if Isabella had not spoken when she did, Zara would already be dead.

That alone made the room feel even more dangerous.

Kian stood very still, and that stillness was the frightening kind. His lion blood had already risen, and even though he had not transformed, people could see it in the way his jaw had gone hard, in the way his eyes had narrowed, and in the way one hand rested near Isabella while the other stayed loose at his side as if ready to snap a neck without warning.

Zyran’s fingers still carried traces of swirling dark power too. He had lowered his hand because Isabella glared at him, but the black mist around his fingertips had not fully gone away. It curled there like he was still arguing with himself in silence, and from the way he kept looking at Zara, it was very obvious that he still thought killing her would fix the mood of the room beautifully.

Osiris had taken one step forward without even knowing it. His body still carried leftover heat from the brand incident, and now that same fire was feeding on this too. His eyes were fixed on Zara with the kind of direct murderous anger that only Osiris could show so openly. There was no cleverness in it, no hidden layer, no graceful control. He simply looked like he wanted to burn her where she lay.

Ophelia had both hands over her mouth.

She was shaking now, really shaking, because too many things had happened too quickly, and she had become part of it without meaning to. Her kind heart had been used. Her care had been used. Her trust had been used. The more she looked at Zara on the floor, the more she felt sick inside.

Valen stood close enough that one of his hands had already moved to the small of her back. He did not say anything yet because this room was too full of anger for soft words, but the way his fingers pressed lightly there made it clear that if Ophelia’s knees weakened, he would catch her before she even fell.

Shelia’s face looked cold in a way it rarely did.

That was because she had already disliked Mira for some time, and now all that suspicion had turned into certainty. Worse, she also felt angry at herself for not dragging Ophelia away more firmly when she had the chance. So she stood there with her arms folded tightly, staring at Zara with a look that said very clearly that if the choice had been hers, mercy would not have entered the room at all.

Luca looked openly disgusted.

Asael looked the same, only quieter.

Even Glimora was still furious. The little white beast stood near Isabella’s feet with puffed-up fur and the angriest tiny face in the world, and every now and then she let out another little growl toward Zara as if reminding the entire room that this witch had nearly poisoned her mother.

In Glimora’s mind, the matter was already settled. If Isabella had eaten, then something terrible would have happened. If Isabella had dropped the bowl, then maybe Glimora would have eaten from it instead. Therefore, Zara had nearly killed both of them. Therefore, Zara was trash. The beast logic was very fast and very complete.

Zara wiped blood from the corner of her lips with trembling fingers and looked up.

Her eyes were full of fear, but fear was not the only thing there. There was also calculation. There was also panic. There was also that ugly stubbornness that still made her want to survive this somehow.

Isabella finally moved.

She stepped closer at the same calm pace as before, and because everyone in the room was still wound tight from what had just happened, even that soft little sound of her boots on the floor made several heads turn toward her at once.

Zara saw it.

Everybody saw it.

The room was still following Isabella.

Even after poison.

Even after rage.

Even after seeing Cyrus lose control for the first time.

That alone made Zara hate her more.

Isabella stopped in front of her and looked down. Her face was calm now, almost too calm, and because of that, Zara felt a different kind of fear rising in her. Earlier, she had feared death. Now she feared something longer.

Since she had been caught, she had to still try and bend things in her favor. Maybe there is hope.

So Zara swallowed and spoke first.

Her voice came out rough because of the blood in her throat, but she still forced softness into it.

"I swear i have a reason for doing this," she said. "I would have never poisoned you without a reason."

The room went even quieter.

Because that was a clever line.

It made her sound wounded and reasonable at the same time, as if she were already expecting fairness from Isabella even while everyone else wanted her dead.

Isabella only looked at her.

She said nothing.

That silence forced Zara to continue.

And because she was cornered, she did what cornered snakes always did.

She lied.

"It was their doing," she said weakly, blood still on her lips as her voice shook. "They made me do it. They knew I came here with them, and they knew I still had ties there. My mother is sick."