The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts
Chapter 250 - 251: Yes, I’ll give you the full story

Chapter 250: Chapter 251: Yes, I’ll give you the full story

Isabella had been lounging on the wooden log like it was a throne built especially for her—a smirk teasing the corner of her mouth as if she ruled this entire land with nothing but a sharp tongue and sharper instincts.

But the moment Valen said the words, "I came back to the village yesterday and I heard you were hurt," her spine straightened like someone had just declared war on her favorite shoes.

She didn’t even look at Opehlia first—her eyes locked on Valen, and something in them sparked.

"Ah-ha!" Isabella said, the sound practically bouncing off the stone walls like the trumpet of justice. "Yes, I’ll give you the full story."

Her fingers cracked one by one as she prepared herself, clearly revving up for a performance that belonged on a grand stage somewhere, under torchlight and thunder.

But just as she turned, shoulders back, lips parting for the first epic syllable—

Opehlia stepped forward, soft as a breeze but with eyes that begged, and gently took Isabella’s hand. Her soft fingers closed around it with the delicacy of someone trying to hold together a storming dam.

Isabella blinked, irritated. "Why?" she demanded, her tone sharp enough to slice through boiled meat.

Valen frowned beside them, his arms slowly crossing over his chest as he tried to read the scene. He looked from Isabella to Opehlia, confusion growing on his face like moss on a stone.

Opehlia’s eyes dropped, then lifted again with that usual soft, glowy wisdom of hers. "It’s beautiful if we let it go," she said softly. "If we talk too much, things might get out of hand."

Isabella’s expression twisted. "Oh, get out of hand? We’re already out of hand," she snapped, yanking her hand back. "You’re out here looking like tragedy’s favorite painting, and I’m supposed to stay silent like some rock?"

Valen took a sharp step forward, voice firm now. "Isabella, don’t listen to her. Tell me what happened."

His tone dropped low and heavy, full of quiet fury and protectiveness. Isabella wasn’t going to lie—there was something impressive about the way he said it. But she quickly brushed the thought aside like lint on a fancy robe.

Her eyes flicked to Opehlia—who, of course, was already watching her with those watery, pleading eyes, like a bunny begging her not to set the whole forest on fire.

Then that wicked little grin began curling its way across Isabella’s lips. A slow, venom-laced thing.

"To the extent that he’d want to kill him?" she asked Opehlia, so sweetly it made Opehlia flinch.

Opehlia’s eyes shimmered with guilt and helplessness. She nodded with a sigh. "Yes."

And that was it. Isabella’s hands clapped together once, dramatically.

"Excellent. So!" she began, spinning around like she was telling an epic tale to a crowd of warriors around a bonfire. "When Opehlia was at my hut, minding her own business, probably singing off-key and braiding grass for no reason—"

"Hey!" Opehlia huffed, embarrassed. "We were sharing soap...or about to!"

"Right, right—sharing soap," Isabella said, grinning. "So, this man—Gerwon—"

"Gerwin," Opehlia corrected.

Isabella turned like a fox caught mid-heist. "See? Proof! His name was definitely something aggressive and untrustworthy."

"No—I mean—don’t tell him!" Opehlia stammered, stepping forward, clearly realizing this was going downhill fast.

But it was already too late.

Isabella’s arms stretched wide as she began her dramatic retelling: "So! This dirt-dwelling, rock-brained, sorry excuse for a beastman—Gerwin—comes stomping into my space like he owns the place. His feet probably smelled like regret and wet tree bark. He goes, ’Opehlia, give me some soap!’ Real demanding. And sweet Opehlia—who, mind you, is just a soft little bunny—she says no."

Valen’s jaw tightened.

"She was polite about it," Isabella continued, warming up now. "She probably said something like, ’I’m sorry, I only have a little left, I need it for the ceremony,’ or something wholesome and tragic. And what does he do?" Her hands slammed down on her thighs. "HE. LOSES. HIS. MIND!"

Valen’s face darkened.

"He starts hitting her! Like a deranged possum during mating season! Just—bam bam—right there, in broad daylight! Like manners were just murdered in front of him and he wanted revenge."

"No, no!" Opehlia interjected, cheeks flushing in panic. "That’s not true! He didn’t go that far—he just—just slapped me once. And I think he instantly regretted it—"

Isabella spun around and gave her a look so fierce that Glimora, sitting nearby, physically shuffled behind Isabella’s leg.

"You’re not helping, babe," Isabella said flatly. Then turned back to Valen with a hand to her chest. "Of course she’s defending him. Because she’s an angel. But me?" Her grin widened. "I’m vengeance in a fur wrap."

"You weren’t even wearing a fur wrap," Opehlia muttered.

"I was in spirit," Isabella replied.

Valen, meanwhile, was gripping the sides of his fur belt like it was the only thing keeping him from marching out to find this Gerwin immediately.

"So you know what I did?" Isabella continued, as though she were narrating a war story to a crowd of inspired young warriors. "I waited. I watched. I found out he had a whole crew. A bunch of beastmen—full-on boneheaded idiots—who like to toss their weight around the village."

"That’s not exactly—" Opehlia tried again.

"I said what I said," Isabella said, cutting her off like she was a ceremonial ribbon. "So I walked up to them. Hair perfect. Dress? Flowing like I was about to deliver a prophecy. Glimora at my side, ready to pounce—or fart fire, depending on the mood."

Glimora squeaked softly from the floor, blinking at the mention of her name.

"They laugh. Of course they laugh," Isabella said, pacing now. "Because I’m small and pretty and not at all what they expect from someone about to ruin their day. So I smile. And then I hit the ringleader so hard with a clay water jug, his great-grandmother felt it in the afterlife."

Valen’s jaw flexed. "Good."

"Thank you," Isabella said with a mock curtsy. "Then I told his crew, if I ever caught any of them near a woman’s hut again, I’d personally tie their tails in knots and feed them to Glimora."

"That’s a lie you almost killed them" Ophelia muttered under her breath.

Glimora looked up, confused. Then sniffed herself. Then blinked again, probably questioning if she was expected to eat people now.

"And guess what?" Isabella added, hands on hips. "They ran. Like puppies. Crying. I think one even pissed himself, but I can’t confirm."

"No they are already being severely punished because of her" Ophelia intervened again looking up at Valen.

Valen was quiet for a long second. Then his voice came low, clipped, and dangerous:

"Where is he being punished?"