The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 563: You think I do not know how heartless you can be
That night, the village celebrated her return.
Fire torches glowed. People whispered Isabella is back. Children ran around excitedly. Women cooked late into the night. Men sharpened their spears for no reason except to impress her. Even the air felt different, warmer, brighter, more alive.
But none of it reached Isabella.
She sat alone on the edge of her stone palace bed, her hands trembling gently over her rounded stomach. Glimora curled beside her silently, sensing her mood.
The small beast would usually chirp, tug at her dress, or climb into her hair, but now she only lay still, watching Isabella’s face with wide, worried eyes.
Isabella’s tears had long dried, yet her chest still felt heavy, like a stone pressed against her ribs.
She wished she could sleep.
She wished she could forget.
She wished her heart did not ache so painfully.
But she could not.
Every time she blinked, Cyrus appeared in her mind.
His smile.
His gentle voice.
The way he always said her name softly.
The meals he made for her.
The necklace he used to protect her.
The warmth he gave in silence.
And how she told him to leave.
How she told him she never wanted to see him again.
How he believed her.
A deep shiver went through her. She pressed her palm against her forehead.
"I need to get him back," Isabella whispered.
Glimora squeaked softly at her feet.
"I know," Isabella whispered. "I know, baby. I messed up. I messed up so badly."
She stood suddenly. Her blanket fell from her shoulders. She wiped her cheeks roughly, pulled air into her lungs, then reached straight into her space.
She did not bother with fancy clothes. She grabbed something practical. Something she could walk through forests with. Something she could run with if she needed to.
Her hands shook while tying her belt. Her thoughts raced.
Where is he now.
Is he safe.
Is he eating.
Does he hate me.
Did I break him.
Did I ruin everything.
Glimora climbed up onto her shoulder and clung to her neck gently, cuddling her face.
Isabella swallowed hard.
"I am getting him back," she whispered again, stronger this time. "I do not care what it takes."
She opened the palace door quietly, hoping not to alert anyone. But the stone palace was old and its doors creaked loudly. The sound echoed like a proclamation of her intentions.
Still, she stepped out.
She did not bother telling anyone where she was going. She did not bother bringing extra supplies. She did not bother informing even Ophelia.
She simply started walking.
The night air was cool and humid. The moonlight washed over the village path. Every few seconds she wiped her eyes angrily, scolding herself internally.
How could I let him walk away.
How could I not stop him.
How could I be so stupid.
And then...
A shadow appeared beside her.
Tall. Dark. Familiar.
Isabella did not even need to look to know who it was.
Zyran.
He stepped forward with an unreadable expression and said calmly, "Off to where."
Isabella’s face hardened immediately.
"Do not speak to me," she snapped. "You disgust me right now. Mind your business too."
Normally, Zyran would grin. Normally, he would flirt, tease, provoke, or annoy her. But tonight, Isabella’s voice carried something else.
Something dangerous.
Yet Zyran stepped in front of her anyway, blocking the path with his broad shoulders.
"Isabella," he said, "stop."
She did not stop.
She walked straight into him, shoved him aside with surprising strength for a pregnant woman, and growled, "Move."
"No," he said, planting his feet. "If you are so worried, wait. Let me go search for him and bring him back."
Isabella’s steps halted.
She turned her head slowly, glaring up at him with a fury that could kill a dragon.
"Do you think I am stupid," she asked calmly. "That I will put my trust in you. You, of all people. To go and bring him back."
Zyran stiffened slightly.
"You think I do not know how heartless you can be," Isabella continued. "If I let you go, you would use this opportunity to make him disappear forever."
Zyran opened his mouth to argue.
She raised a finger sharply.
"Do not try to lie to me. I can smell your evil intentions from across the mountain."
Zyran closed his mouth.
He tried again. "Isabella, listen to me. I can help you."
She stepped forward, poking him hard in the chest.
"Move, Zyran."
The air between them crackled.
And then...
A new voice approached.
"If you do not trust him," Kian said as he stepped into the moonlight, "I can do it."
Isabella spun around to face him.
Kian had always been handsome in a cold and unapproachable way, but tonight he looked different. Tired. Shadowed. Almost guilty.
She narrowed her eyes.
"What makes you think you are a better choice," she asked sharply.
Her tone cut through the quiet night.
Everyone froze.
Zyran’s brow lifted.
Kian’s expression tightened. There was something unreadable on his face, something almost painful. But he said nothing.
Isabella continued walking.
More footsteps sounded behind her.
Ophelia rushed from the palace holding her dress with one hand, Valen following behind her calmly.
Even Osiris was watching from a distance.
"Isabella," Ophelia said breathlessly, "wait."
Isabella refused to stop.
Ophelia caught up and grabbed her arm gently. "Tell me what is going on."
Isabella’s chest rose and fell quickly. She looked at Ophelia, then at Valen.
"I need to get him back," she whispered, voice cracking again.
Ophelia’s eyes immediately filled with tears. "Isabella, I am so sorry."
Valen stepped forward.
"I can go," he said. "If you want me to."
Isabella blinked up at him.
Then she frowned at all of them.
"What is this. Were you all waiting outside for me to come out or what."
Nobody answered.
Because the truth was yes. They were all waiting. Her emotions were loud. Every beast in the village sensed her leaving. Especially the three men watching her like she was the moon about to disappear forever.
Finally Isabella exhaled and rubbed her forehead.
She looked at Valen.
"If you can sense where he is," she whispered, "I will be really grateful."
Valen nodded.
"I will find him," he promised.
Isabella stepped closer.
"I want to come," she said quietly. "Please."
Ophelia put a hand on Isabella’s stomach. Her voice was soft and worried.
"It may take a long time to find him, Isabella. Walking everywhere might not be the best choice right now."
Zyran, shameless and ridiculous, immediately stepped closer.
"I can carry you," he offered confidently.
Isabella turned so slowly that even the wind paused.
Her expression was deadly.
"You," she said, "are the reason I regret coming back to this village."
Zyran’s confident smile broke.
Ophelia snorted by accident. Valen covered her mouth before she laughed too hard.
Kian looked away, jaw clenched.
Isabella ignored all of them.
She focused on Ophelia again. "I can handle it."
Ophelia nodded reluctantly.
Kian stood behind them, silent as always, his eyes fixed on Isabella with an emotion he never let anyone read.
Regret.
Sadness.
Longing.
And something like fear.
Before Isabella stepped away, she turned to Kian one last time.
"When I come back," she said without looking at him directly, "I will start the preparations with Shelia."
Kian’s hands tightened at his sides. He opened his mouth, maybe to explain, maybe to apologize, maybe to plead.
But Isabella was already gone.
She did not wait for him to speak.
She turned her back on him.
She walked toward the village gates.
Valen followed quickly.
Ophelia clutched her hands in worry.
Zyran ran a frustrated hand through his hair.
Kian stood frozen in place, absorbing her words like a wound.
Isabella did not look back.
Not even once.
She only whispered to herself, voice trembling with hope and fear.
"Cyrus. Wait for me."
